Life is, I hear you say,
life is like
cyber mice eating cyber cheese
‘The nourishment just ain’t there
The cabbage turns a leaf towards me
and says ‘Do not mind my muddy feet
fair Squire, only please take my dainty hand’.
Red sky and bearded horse
clip clop down the lane
and bay leaves smell the air.
My skin turns reptilian red
and dry scales flee my body in the breeze.
The taste of honey syrup too will pass,
chased away by lemon drops on plastic trays
– teamworked lions hunting hapless zebra.
‘I hear what you’re feeling
Can you smell how I look?’
Mathew flourishes his flowery cape
pencilled eyebrows highway straight
glares and fumes
hopes I’ll shrink
‘But does a cyber mouse need any nourishment?
And what is nourishment?
Let’s define this curious sound’.
Poor Mathew, listed first
confuses chalice with the wine,
thinks to drown my ego
in his challenging remarks.
But my wave front is strong
and I vector him to hell,
and will not be spoken to
in a manner such as this
by a bunch of atoms
insolently swirling .
‘If a Buddha can stand to peel a grape
then I can drink the wine
grid-bound though I be.’
The moon rises
and the tendrills of its madness
gnaw at my nerves
‘Pou pas paidaki mou pou pas?’
I wish I knew where I was going
Then I’d put the old mother at ease.
The meliflous rodents of my super-ego
‘His bilges are open.
Give him more syrup!’
But I fling my wand of ambiguity
in the gap between the words
and jump through to more exotic
A nanny smiles at a child
like a Baraccuda eyeing a shoal of fish
and the Pharaoh
will soon devour his people
The confident table
and his friend the chair
whispers to me
‘Just sit on me and make him happy’
The pen cries out
‘Write with me, with me’
And I plough the paper.
And the table winces.
And the bed tucks Mathew into the sheets.
And the iron rusts