Tap, tap tapping on the window  

Close your eyes,
open your wings.
Fly my little bird.
Don’t look down.
You’ll drown in something less pleasant
than gas and air.

‘Hold your fire,
he’s coming in’.
The joke is lost on this crowd.
Stoney faced,
Hoping for day time telly.
Getting only hard tech,
Splitting them in two.

‘Raspberry coulis never tasted so good,
as when spooned off the bill
of the cuckaborough’.
No words,
for what the world
took a lifetime to create.
slowly creeping.
Blink and you miss it.

Lusting for ice cream
In Yum, Yum cottage.

A futile dawn of senseless options.
Cloud break,
bathing children,
In warmth and beauty.
Noising up the neighbours,
who live by buying pensions,
insuring the insurance.
Double glazing the dog,
to stop it chasing the vet,
who has a clean car
on a new plate.
Smug as crushed powder,
daring us to fall fast first,
in to the experience
hat ripped the guts out of us,
last time it tried us.

There in your wasteland,
You felt like you really had something.
Love never entering it,
Never leaving.
on all fours,
taking it hard.
Like a pin.
Don’t look me in the eye
I’m liable to cry.

Loquacious to the last,
gushing froth.
‘No Gawping’.

‘Let the spirit flow
through you,
within me.’
salt triangle.
Only magic means anything.

‘Did you move a finger,
When the wizard called?’

Say something profound,
like egg custard tart.
Stop editing your work.
Only when I’m lonely,
do I cry.

‘Other people make me angry.
I’m really quite nice.
If I miss the beginning of Emmerdale,
I’ll knock your block off’.
Prison dinner queue banter.
Compulsory laughing.

‘I wonder, my good man,
could you tell me.
Is this the road to ruin?
(Intentions laid on sharp
in a roman style).
‘Go back to where you’ve come from.
You’ve such good teeth.
There is nothing for you here.
‘oh, no, no, you misunderstand.
I’m here to pick up my son’.

Knock me to my knees.
Tell me my father died.

It’s a trifling matter.
Vienese fingers,
Two bowls of Nana’s,
and driving is out the question.
Reckless peak experience.

‘If the patterns in the glass,
hold more fascination,
than the world beyond it.
Ask a passenger to locate,
a safe place to stop’.

And relax.

Now is not the time.
We’re turning the power down.
Atomic drift weaving,
through the gaps.
It’s roomy.

‘Don’t hold me like that,
you’re off the hook’.
His face was a picture,
nailing water to the wall.

Particulate processing.
The aether is thinking.
finer than a Swiss watch.
What a tone.
The gap the pendulum gorged.

Staring in to the abyss.
Knowing we’d cut the rope.

The cat made it’s home
among the diamonds
and the chandeliers.
Only the grand piano foxed it.

Belly crawl under the wire.
We’re all friends here.





Ben Greenland
Picture Rupert Loydell

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