What am I going to do with you?

What am I going to do with you?
Fill up the kettle and make us a brew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Sit down beside you and wait for your cue,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Listen to you carefully as I know you are few,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Stand up above you and wonder the view,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Touch your skin gently and wipe off the dew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Study your skin tone and worry the hue,
that’s what I am going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Listen to your day with Support Worker Sue,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Lift up your cow mask and laugh at your moo,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Encourage you promptly to go to the loo,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Pinch my nose tightly and say ‘smelly poo’,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Feel my frustration and call you a Jew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Feed you to lions for a good chew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you

What am I going to do with you?
Slice you in half so you become two,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Slice you up neatly and cook you,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Put your pieces in some beef and ale stew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Melt you down quickly and box up the goo,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

What am I going to do with you?
Mix it all up and start you anew,
that’s what I’m going to do with you.

M☻g

June 2010

Soul Numbers

I like writing poetry with words
and numbers.
1,
10,
100,
1,000
10,000
100,000
1,000,000

A mountain of numbers each one symbolic in my mind
Ever increasing numbers of my dreams.
One
Ten
One hundred
One thousand
Ten thousand
One hundred thousand
One million.

The same mountain
parallel in words.
But different in my soul
and different in my dreams.

Words in numbers can’t fill my soul
Like digits of numbers fills my dreams.


M☻g

109

109
One hundred and nine
That would have been lovely.

1009
One thousand and nine
Definitely do-able.

10,009
Ten thousand and nine
Scary but a climbable mountain.

109,000
One hundred thousand
With Nine thousand
Odd figures not included
(at this stage).

100k
Just meaningless figures
On a page of
An unknown life
By an unknown man
Who lives with me?

100k
One hundred thousand pounds
Struck heavily, pulverized
Into months and years
of debt that
I don’t know
I never knew
But should have.

100,000
One hundred thousand
Building daily by interest
Accrued by institutions
Who neither know nor care
About me.

23,400
Seconds sitting in crowded waiting
Rooms hopeful for advice
And praying for salvation.
Avoiding others eyes
Wondering.

100,000
times
Are they as bad as us?
Are they fucked too?
Are they as old,
As tired, as desperate,
And probably homeless
As me.

Mog

The Sphynx Who Fucked the World

Frozen mid-pounce into recumbence
The failed twist of a tongue
Strangulates to cleanse the master race
Spawn of Chimaera told it true
An equinoctial marker of evil,
Not a goddess, but a demon
Paralysed by brilliant rays
of an omnipotent sun.
Waiting for the day the darkness comes,
Sphynx beast will stir awake,
To cross the bright beam threshold
to let shadows strangle fools; laughing.
Her plastic allegiance with man
Ripped forth from the womb of Mother Earth.



Luna

Dysmorphia

">Dysmorphia

Scrutinising in despair

Her naked reflection:

The cellulite that might be

In two, ten or twenty years,

Hair that shines like gold,

That might turn silver... or grey.

The deep furrows that burn into her skin.

Lines that etch her frown and each anxiety;

Cold desert cunt, false teeth smile and prescription lenses,

Scrutinising in despair

Her naked reflection.

Tits too small, yet sinking slowly

To their rendezvous with the navel,

Perhaps those hidden rolls of fat

May concertina over stomach

And ripple down thighs -

A tsunami plague of pies and cake,

A self obsessed depression.

She scrutinises in despair,

Her fated reflection.

Luna

Catalogue of Ignorance

I've got a catalogue of ignorance at home.

It sits in the corner and murmurs obscenities

from my mind.

Sometimes I long to read them out loud

whatever the consequences of announcing

my catalogue of ignorance to the world.

At each interview with authority

their questions of diversity demand

that I close my catalogue of ignorance

and open the big book of political

correctness instead.

This page turning blandness

rumbles out of my mouth

to impress and astound.

Yet my catalogue of ignorance

constantly struggles to be heard.

Its pages flickering and turning

like an ever gossiping mouth.

Drawing me into the corners

of my opinions and the reality

of my catalogue of ignorance.

M☻g

By Firelight

By Firelight

I feel the leaves crackle beneath my feet.

I look up and find you

haloed in fire light.

Your effervescent glow in the raging bonfire

fills me with a heat not known

by mere flickering flame.

The sun has set behind me,

the last vestiges of day have finally given up

their steely grasp on the expectant revellers.

They mill about the firelight

like moths drawn to its warm embrace.

I stand clear in the newly formed shadow

watching, the light catch your hair

as the soft tendrils dance

in the breeze of the chilled evening.

You move around the crowd

capturing all those you look upon.

I wonder when it was that you first seized

my heart and clamped it in your fist.

A tight embrace I would never relinquish.

Darkness takes the party,

the smell of burning permeates the air.

You and the firelight are the only barriers

to the cold night that seeps in

around our small gathering.

Hushed watchers huddle protectively,

both anxious and enthralled

by evening’s soft kiss on their cheek,

a tender stroke of its cold fingers down their necks

trails along their slender arms nestled against chests.

A shiver passes through your body

though you do not flinch,

just smile into the encroaching darkness

in anticipation of further delights

offered only in dark hours.

The sky explodes into life

illuminating the grounds once more,

touching all the faces with hues of green and red.

You see my face illuminated in man-made stars

destined to burn out in a heartbeat.

Your eyes penetrate my being

sending the cacophony of many fireworks

skittering to the back of my mind.

Our breath holds us, sentinels

watching the world catch light

and burn around us.

Reflected in your eyes I see myself

rooted, as the light of the world

rains down on me

and for a moment it is beautiful.

JC

SHC

What ever happened to the man in the untouched chair
with burnt out legs, his top half staring outwards
completely and silently sad?

What ever happened to the big blonde haired lady
dying quietly on her unfashionable quilt.
Her left arm a pile of burnt out ashes leaving
just an imprint shadow?

Whatever happened to Spontaneous Human Combustion?

Mog