The Stuff That Dreams Are Drunk On

Forest of Disappointment

The leaves left
The seeds disappeared
The trunk fell down
And the birds were left wanting

Idiosyncratic Dreary Walls

My life was imbued with skulls on shelves
Disappearing figures and drinks that spilled
Phantom shops with mythical products
And holidays that made fun of the definition

My days were awash with smoke that crossed the line
Movies that broke my mind
Thoughts that would not go away
And memories that didn't seem quite right

My hours were carpeted with words
Looks that expressed nothing but apathy
Ways that led nowhere but everywhere
And a smile that made tomorrow nervous

Skulls on Shelves

Shit Into Gold

I stared at a monitor today
Silent subservients hovering -
And all of us turning shit into gold
And that kind of thing.

And there was a flicker.
Dancing, silent deadline-denier,
Are you real?
Dance with me forever...
Make this deadline never.

The image of you was lovely
And it made me cry.

So I turned right back all told
And turned shit into gold.

Red Helicopter Society

The Internet's frequented by drones
Leaving bombs
made of insults
That explode in the face.

Breathe out and release

Then an authoritarian figure
Presses delete.
We're much too dumb for this thing
We can't see the irony.

Breathe out and release

Might as well stay calm
And stare at the sea
The angels above me
In a red helicopter society.

Breathe out and release

You Mean The Movie Lied

According to certain animators I know
Who surely could not have been putting on just a show
The world I grew up in was a wonderous place
A stage in which animals talked and fairies flew with such grace
Such glorious places were just beyond the horizon due north
Where ever so special people sang songs for all their worth
The discoveries we made with our friends whatever the weather
Would be served up with messages to keep with us forever
So now that I'm older and the magic has died
I'm appalled to find out that these animators lied.

The world I now reside in doesn't have chatty grinning cats
In fact most of the humans don't speak they just shout and they spat
The only time I believe anyone sings
Is to get on reality tv shows which apparently deliver dreams
And of all of the messages I learnt from such fare
The only one that has helped as far as I am aware
Is in fact none of them... So there!

The Woodpecker

If I told you I could fly
You'd look at me and roll your eyes
If you spied me banging my head against a tree
You'd have me committed as quick as can be....

So, how come it's okay for the Woodpecker?

Point

With these eyes I cannot see
My love for you has blinded me
These poems I write they are so twee
I'm blinded to what a fool I've been

Pin

There's a camera looking at me
I think it just winked.
It's stolen my identity
With it's shutter I think.

Those Foolish Days

Regretted forever
Tiny moments
Remembered forever
Dagger point injuries
Resented forever
Isolated always
We can never make amends for those foolish days
Except by making sure they never happen again.

Pointed Sundown

Snakes and Vultures
Cacti in Spring
Dust on the High Street
The Elderly on the porch.
Wooden painted houses
Fireworks In town
Ice creams now melting
The sun always pointing down

Alone, Not Dancing

It always was the greatest pleasure
To watch you dance, my little treasure.
On a dance floor, at a party
In the street or under that tree.
If it made you sad that I made you dance alone
It was not from being cruel, In fact I have always shown,
That when I'm not dancing I'm watching all the time
The love of my life doing what makes her shine.

The Tumbleweed Memories Alphabet of The Alternative Part 11

Long Weekend

For years the shocking plight of the environment and the creatures we share it with has been the touch paper for many a movie, this Australian gem is one of my favorites. A couple whose relationship is waning venture out into the wilderness for a weekend away, an attempt to recapture their feeling towards each other. Showing as much disregard for the land around them as they do each other the couple slowly start to notice that something is wrong, the wildlife around them start to display a more aggressive type of behaviour as if angered by the couples abuse of the land.
Although it was remade in 2008, Long Weekend is a forgotten masterpiece, the two lead performances are astonishing, despite their characters having to be deliberately unlikeable for the story to work, both John Hargreaves and Briony Behets make their roles seem real and not mere cyphers in a script. The events that lead to the denouement take place gradually and the pace is pitch perfect matching the collapse of the couples relationship, nor is any of the violent scenes of nature turning for the sake of exploitation. A subtle, genuinely chilling movie that despite having a serious message never becomes pushy.

Cold Morning

The animals complain
The birds don't want to fly
The grass and the flowers can't see the sky
The world that we know makes us shiver and stir
Knowing that soon it'll be summer again

Positively Nocturnal

I fell for the charms of a misguided night
Shared by no other, no shadows, no sound
Those moments we were entwined in a midnight so black
Could not last forever, but we could not go back
So we're left with a gaping hole with light all around
A place where these night times seem ever so trite

Only every other...

You were never so important, not even once a week
They seemed to count the hours, until they bought back the meek
That time every day inbetween, like a world in which you didn't exist
They never saw you dance and sing, they never saw you through their own life's mist.
If they could see the colour, the brightness you bring each day
They would never want to leave you not in any way.

From The Country

Shadows in the moonlight
Dancing in the sun
My days always appeared lonely
As if invented just for one

Sunday The 15th

Two days less unlucky than you imagined it could be

Like a facebook status update nobody read

Like a twitter account never tweeted

Like a blog without a conscience

Like a slasher sequel to far

Like a rambling spiral with too much time on it's hand

Unlike the day you've just had

Song For Nobody

The music plays
At the start of the movie,
And nobody knows my name.

It's a melody.
Passed down through the ages,
And nobody knows my name.

There's a broken man,
All lost and afraid,
And nobody knows my name.

And he walks alone
To the seedy spots
And nobody knows my name.

And he window shops
Then he goes inside
And nobody knows my name.

Then he buys a smile,
And he stays a while
And nobody knows my name.

And when he leaves,
He does up his sleeves,
And nobody knows my name.

And the rain comes down
And hurricanes howl
And nobody knows my name.

Then he finds a bed
And lays down his head
And nobody knows my name.

And he dreams of her,
And cries inside
And nobody knows my name.

Then the next day comes
And he ups and runs
And nobody knows my name.

Now he's ten years gone
It's the same old song
And nobody knows my name.

He's been sent down three times
For separate crimes
And nobody knows my name.

He finds a grave
And places a rose
And nobody knows my name.

He goes to the chapel
Where nobody goes
And nobody knows my name.

Then he picks up his things
And heads to the bridge
And nobody knows my name.

And he thinks of the life
She couldn't deliver
And nobody knows my name.

And he hurls himself
Straight into the river
And nobody knows my name.

Then the music plays
At the end of the movie,
And nobody knows my name.

It's a melody.
Passed down through the ages,
And nobody knows my name.

As the credits roll
All the lovers go home
And nobody knows my name.

There's a drinking man
And he's sinking his pay
And nobody knows my name.

He's a broken man,
All lost and afraid,
And nobody knows my name.

January February

..... I know, it doesn't get much better.

January Imbalance

It all came to pass in a flurry of tossed tinsel and packed up fake pine.
That twinge of sadness at returning to a life you were perfectly happy with until three weeks ago.
The reality that waistlines and bank balances don't look as healthy as they did in November.
The horror that there is so much new stuff in the house that you have no place to put it all.
And worst of all the fear and terror that in twelve months you have to do it all again.

January Revolution

It All Starts Here in Your Brand New Police Academy Calendar!
You're going to lose weight, cut down on drinking, stop smoking, get a new job, learn to love your old one, talk to your relatives more, not argue with your partner as much, learn a new language, find out how to use the Internet, save more money, climb a mountain, start that first novel, meet your neighbours, rediscover your love for crocheting you had in the 80's, make every day at least 5 out of 10 day, make amends for that murder you committed and got away with, clean the house at least once a week, not lie so much, discover you can appreciate the little things in life like sunsets without having to spend a fortune on gadgets, not use the takeaway as a viable option for Sunday dinners.


Or perhaps you could just take today as every other day and just see what fucking happens!