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In defence of unhappiness


In defence of unhappiness

“Happiness is a warm gun” – John Lennon

As the cuckoo grabbed a nest
and crushed eggs to death
blackbirds sang

As hurricane winds blasted
and tree trunks fell
wood beetles sang

As mayflies starved and died
exhausted swarms collapsed
hover of trout smiled

As meteor crashed to Earth
the sun went black
jellyfish smiled

As serfs and slaves revolted
blue blood was spilt
beheaders sang

As Job tasted pestilence
a hunger reigned
Almighty sang

As foetus died stillborn death
a mother wept
a hope was born.

____________________

Note: Audio recording is here https://anchor.fm/e/993838?at=1085154

After Sunday

‘It’s hard

to start…’

______

After Sunday

A roll of the dice 

A cut of the cards

Slot-machines

Night and Day

rolled into one

Background & Hinterland.

Did Elvis chant

‘Let’s Strip You Bare’?

Music & Musaque 

‘ Where have all the jute-boxes gone?’

——

What’s your poison?

Your cocktail?

Your justification?

To be sure,

none of us expected you to order

“Massacre on the Rocks”.

No parrot sang

“Pretty Polly

Off your trolly

No folly

Pretty Polly

Off-duty

Police officer

Nurse

Local government employee

A couple of Canadians

With his fiancé 

A very good mother

Heavy-duty mechanic apprentice

Maple Ridge

Big Sandy

Henderson

23

29

20

22,000

Vesuvius 

Pompeii on the Strip

_______

‘I won’t be right

until I’ve written 

– even then

I won’t be right.

I lost my heart in Vegas

Nevada

Cork.’

Nobody but you

There are too many bloody good people around
They make me sick with their good intentions
Puke with Generosity
Retch with Universal Love
Angels cast in vomit.

Too many spirits carry the burden of pain
– as if one snake’s venom was bedfellow
to a reptilian Collective Conscience.
Give me the fiery “Go fuck your trouble
anyday.

Stop feeling for me.
Cut out the empathy surrogacy.
Drown in your trade-marked tears.
Do something for yourself.
Go walk your own mile.

Go be nobody but you.
Isn’t it hard enough to live one life

than to be mother to another?

So many good people

Twas a bitter night,
earthworms driven deep,
swifts and swallows flown from sight,
few nuts laid to sleep.

On the road well-trudged
shoes sliding behind,
crowds into my face misjudged,
to their rhythm blind.

An all-weather pitch,
hummingbirds and rats,
a carpet woven eldritch,
oodles of green hats.

Twas a spark, a flame,
kindling wood for home
way beyond a trace of shame,
whispering coxcomb.

Too many good people
abroad with wisdom,
blessed good loving people
mend sorrow’s kingdom.