Incoherent verses!

cooling down

You pause for thought
And you wait for a while,
The tide comes in,
It moves with style,
Lapping at your laptop,
Waving you goodbye,
Getting salt in your wounds,
Like an onion makes you cry,
Punching through the drunkenness,
Maybe a pleasant surprise,
It is the high beam of a Toyota
In a dark lane, burning your eyes,
But it never makes sense when it needs to,
It never cheers you up when you’re feeling blue,
Like a bad day full of curses and reverses,
It is the hidden meaning in my incoherent verses.

Slap a plastic doll for a bear hug,
Line up a shot on your billiard table,
Screw the luck as you screw back and follow through,
Clenching your ass cheeks as you always do,
You’ve got it on tap as you tear the green,
Chalking a stench through the smoke filled air,
Pocketing the prize without remorse or surprise,
Sometimes life can be so fruitful and unfair,
Sliding on through to the next laser beam,
Be a wise old chicken, who stole all the cream,
The cats have moved on to a gluten free diet,
Finding something peaceful in a West London riot,
But it never makes much sense when it needs to,
Maybe the penny dropped and gained interest,
Losing the plot as you pay taxes on empty hearses,
Looking for an answer in my incoherent verses.

Crumbling memories from an over rich digestive,
Dunking sweet discs into over sweet tea,
Scolding hot as you forgot to blow or whistle,
Like sitting down bare naked in a nest of thistles,
Climbing up higher, only to be shot down,
Branching out desperately into diseased ridden trees,
Falling down head first as you snort like a clown,
A lucky escape as you only scuff your knees,
Amazing facts twisted around barbed wire lies,
Phenomenal outcomes from a one way ride,
Burnt to a crisp as you play with a hot potato,
Cool as pumpkin pie, that’s the way to go,
But it never makes sense when you want it to,
No matter how much you punch it out of shape,
You can’t bribe the truth with empty purses,
Looking for some worth in my incoherent verses.

Getting fatter as you work the straight and narrow,
Donating your thoughts instead of the bone marrow,
Emptying change into the nearest, stinkiest drain,
Listening to the coined music in the torrential rain,
You orchestrated yet another great escape,
Monkeying around while you parents go ape,
When an orangutan plays the banjo better than me,
In makes my heart bleed just like a gelada.
From an African nation to a province of Rome,
From stories and legends lost in the myths of time,
Hidden treasures hidden below the playing surface,
A foot and ball and a full time whistle,
But it never makes much sense when it should not do,
Maybe there is a story in here waiting to be found,
Sick to the brim the fever is controlled by strange nurses,
Are we still looking for the light in my dark incoherent verses?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s