Finding the way

Finding the way

Sitting in Tavistock Square
Deciding whether it is
The correct measure
To be making decisions
On how to handle
This situation

Yet at the same time
Feeling the threat
Of missing opportunity
Because of deem-acting
The syndrome of change
Must occur

What we seek
Has been found
As expected
As usual
In the form
We try to escape

Free people
Float out
Resist returning
Only confirming
And instilling
The reoccurrence

Saddening in thought
Deep and familiar
In impact, yet
Circumstances remain
Leaving purity
And shared knowledge.

Fateful encounter

Fateful encounter

The cycle repeats
Meaning time has come
Factors remain suspended
So fate will reoccur.

Making the right call
The eternal dilemma
Instincts battle logic
The environment intervenes

Choosing wrong affects
The chances of being right
Next time around
The backdrop evolves

Take a late encounter
At a taxi stand
Will she, won’t she
Consequences multiply

Watching myself
Being watched
Forming opinions
That might not exist

In her mind
Chances are
As things are
Fate will reoccur.

My belle

My belle

Big beautiful roses have long stems
Hormones and selective breeding
Growing the body mine desires
Yet tainted by this falseness

Irony. Symbolism. Lesson.
But it’s unlearned.
Nothing is known.
Like why is it I find

The odd one out special
An exception to the rule
Falling into a finite band
Whose boundaries obstruct

One side says she’s the one
Whereas the other enumerates
Long lists of components
Hormones and selective thinking.

A moment’s peace

A moment’s peace

Inspired by a drum beat
The downward spiral of keys
Harpsichord and accordion
Then cutlery, crockery clatter
A steam burst, milk froths

Closer still, individual voices
Fading in and out of range
Random and incessant action
Accompanied by punctual rhythms
Both catering to my soul

But which do I prefer
Does music lift me up
As I strive to catch the melody
Or is my imagination stretched
By snippets of conversations

Then it occurs to me
I’m not alone
And more problems exist
Here collectively
Than in my single life

Dithering globalist

Dithering globalist

My life ticks backwards
While glancing over my shoulder
And thinking I should
Face up to things

I sit and wax lyrical
Into a vinyl cylinder
An ode to joy
With an eastern allure.

Some cultures attract
Others threaten
Drawing pretty lines
In defecation brown

Global homunculi
Featuring sensitive spots
And a soft underbelly.
I reject the arguments

In favour of backtracking
Knowing old times
Are not what we want
Yet cleanliness calls.