March 31, 2010
My response – Addictive Whine Hobo
Addictive Whine Hobo
A victim cackles his hideous whine
Wretched me, my life nullified
by unfeeling intelligence
rationalising anguish
impossible to fight against unfair odds
let me have more whine
and sod the power crazed
monkey feudal overlord
and smoke and fire my ageing corpse away
no more to betray
working class northern chips
on both shoulders
but
in one more life
please
may I have gold and gold
and smirk at those that will be
as I once was
a victim of Dr Eames
powerful monkey
clan magik
no laughter here in potters hell
but cold wet grey slime
gunges my greed and dribbling
slurp
of clay feet and airy head
why me why me why me whine
they are all fat privileged
swine
Jeff’s Magnesium deficiency
My dreams they fade away
I burn my shadow
standing on the edge of my future
My destroyer is me
Retreating, a strange dance
Performing rituals, decadance
Ambiguous eyes flashing
Pray, muscles tension
Music mellows my mood
Mathematical gymnastics conclude
Silent screams, volatile Kung Fu
Menacing machinations
A power hungry monkey’s
Futile search for lost toys
Jeff’s Oh Profundity
Oh profundity
Seams like only the master tailor
Fits like a dream
Looking the part, apart
Must resist the temptation to share
Values
Being believing, an efigy of class
The superficial discord of the fight
Never giving in to want
The creek of the rusty hinge
Times erosive qualities
Put me in my place
Realism truthfully frightens
I sideline my life through occupation
Catching a glimpse
Of multiple coloured darknesses
Mr Existensial – my response to Jeff’s last poem published below…
Mr Existensial
Flashing his synapse
quizzically analysing
comparing and contrasting
fearing what is ahead
regretting what has been
he restlessly
finds that he can not live
now
laugh at his coffin
shake his rattle
so must throw all of his toys
out of the pram
grinding his teeth
but unwilling to pay for dental treatment
he dreams of Dr Eames and what
might have been
potter or potty
making yet another cup of tea
he offers biscuits
in return
for love
Houses are elaborate coffins – a poem by Jeff
man made machine to replicate
still silences, repeated kaleidoscope mirages
stoney cold judgements
as if intelligence rules
human flaw, can’t see
listen without ears
vocalised, song sung.
sing little bird
whose voice shatters, vibrations quaked flat
mouths side smiling, teeth bared
whispering
I’m watching you, with no need to wait
because I know our demise
we share
Dr eams
March 21, 2010
The roles of friends..
Friends are an aid to the young, to guard them from error; to the elderly, to attend to their wants and to supplement their failing power of action; to those in the prime of life, to assist them to noble deeds ARISTOTLE
March 20, 2010
Jeff tormented by what he cannot control…
Rest in Peace
Theres a moth attacking the burlar alarm
I know it is
Readily I have the code
The high pitched squeel, remains in my head
I cant find the moth
I cant sleep
What if someone gets into the house
I hear noises, outside, inside
I no longer trust Im safe
All my possessions lost
The fire burnt well, too hot
Now I shall sleep
If I can find a bed.
March 19, 2010
Jeff the thinking Artist challenges meaning in these two new poems from this emerging genius – contemplate….
Sometime friend
Pungent smells, tardy room
The fixer,
Bringing boxes of all sizes
Creating harmony through disorder
chaos through truth
One big lick sir
One big trick sir, one big stick stir
The mixer
Whirling eddies, florid clouds
The flower falls breaking an apple tree
Fruitless, tireless effort, meaningless contradictions
Your a jinx
Feel no pain,
We need lids
An elixir
Hard water.
My escape is made, it surrounds you
I am an artist, my work is complex
My brushes are people, my canvas , the street
The colour’s are symptoms
Media combined, a world image
Hidden from view, from you.
No one can see through tubular eyes
Mouths that are slanty, sloped words fall
The edifice, the mind, sculpted, furrowed brow
Leaden ears
Do you want this gift, its free
Smiling, holding, waiting hesitation
I can smell the fear, the excitement
Something for nothing
Nothing for something
A long time passes
Yes, I know
You took the gift, now learn to live in it.
March 17, 2010
Jeff’s poem – Hi Ho Silver Whining – reflects his own doomed attempt to grapple with life…
Hi Ho Silver Whining
The wise man sat impermeable on the block of ice
His pale body exacted the cold windswept alcove
Thinking intemperate things, chanting gloop
His name was shiatzoo swamy, he had many orbs
Years passed in trance, blood pressure lowered heart beat faint
Alone, elemental, No-one visited him
No-one knew he was there
Shiatzoo realising his error
Walked down to explain his views.
Now owning a powerful advertising and media business
Shiatzoo drove past in his limousine
He didn’t notice me or feel my presence.
One day father, I will wreak my vengeance.
His ice cream melting, dribbled down his hand, licking
Limbless, the sugary sweetness engulfed his diabetic metabolism.
Remembering
Instances of joy and the first global televised program.
March 11, 2010
Poor Old Jeff thinks he has hurt my feelings! He must think I CARE
That’s rubbish
My rhyme obviously harmed you
My deepest sympathy
I didn’t realise your vulnerabilty
A fragile shell of applicabilty
It’s easy to suggest
And difficult to digest
That you suffer from suggestability
This positive aura of suseptability
Seems opposed by deniability
May I manifest
That you put feelings at rest
And return to your specialist abilities
