05 | February | 2014

Dare, go on dare, do some work!

Teetering on the brink, uh.

Watching the kitchen sink.

Go on and do some work.

But…

there’s the pain, and the weather,

and the tories, and those socks, the dog,

and the…Shut up and do some work.

Chatting small, enduring twaddle and passing comment on the news,

the wonderful weather, Ents and death trances, and

recent sightings of drunken old muckers puking on poodles

Every so often there are smartphone snapshots of dormant pets,

a dinner dance after a few, a flying saucer over Tesco’s,

the paddling pool in the back garden, and some baby humans.

During tales of goings-on in times past, the clock is seen, nattering over.

Down to brass tacks: hoovering, bed-making, tidying, graft, filling in forms.

Today I am torn between Albert Camus or Kermit the Frog: I sign ‘Dean Martin.’

…real but invisible,

defined but uncertain,

yesterday and tomorrow.

For forever and a day.

The sheer never, never,

Neverendishnessness…

…And you, fellow sucker,

And me over here, shallow fucker,

bob about in these

shark-infested waters,

Quints ready for the taking,

Bamboos and rubber Treeplants.