OLD MATTRESSES

OLD MATTRESSES

They have raised a highway

Across our valley

And landscaped it

With blocks of windowed concrete.

Beneath, the river strangles itself

With shopping trolleys

And bits of old bicycles

Worn-out mattresses

And smashed-up pallets are everywhere

While a bloated condom

Flutters by on a piece of driftwood.

Painted hoarding-women

With rotating eyes

Compete for attention

With pram-pushing young love,

Their stilettos tap-dancing the hard shoulder

On a clear day

Juggernauts gleam in the sun

And rolled-up tabloids

Tell tall tales about Royalty

Or football….and Sex

BRIEF ENCOUNTER ON A TRAIN

 

BRIEF ENCOUNTER ON A TRAIN

Blue-green compact

Hazel green eyes

She powdered busily

Then blinked in surprise

When  I winked

Not once, but twice

The train rocked on

She powdered her nose

She looked at me slyly

But I feigned repose

She stuck out her tongue

And I winked once more

Then the train came to a stop

And she dived for the door

DEFRAGGING THE SCANDISK

tube-roehre3

DEFRAGGING THE SCANDISK

All this talk about the mathematical concept of infinity
As if it was a numbers game
Real numbers, that is
Not those sets of integers
Or Cardinalities
Favoured by the current crop of God-botherers
Lemniscate my arse
Stop going on and on and on
Infinity is not a number
When you’re gone, you’re fucking gone