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Poem
Stood upright, between two roads,
On a thin metal rail,
A solitary, brown coloured bottle 
Of beer,                                     
Sporting a red and whitle label,                      
Emptied and callously abandoned...
Just like the tin can of cider
Plonked down beside you on your 
Little polished mahogony table.                     
An unremarkable glass bottle,
As if a piece of submitted 
Street avant-garde left on display,                                             
Purposely discarded by some 
Unknown person or persons here;              
Whilst, with the whole passing 
World 
Seated in driving ignorance before 
It,
All existence dashing endlessly
Away                                                                          
When  frantically tumbling and 
Twirling
Inside the madly spinning,           
Half-rounded Hemisphere.                    



Somewhere, after enduring a short 
Commercial break...
Every advert dryly commented upon -
Each being accorded an equally
Dismissive and condescending stare,              
One in particular informing it's 
Disinterested audience
Of the frightful perils 
On developing pancreatic cancer,                  
A warm couch, motionless, 
Suddenly stirs and starts upwards 
Like a cornered panther                           
Snarling before the hunters gun!                 
Your sullen visage momentarily
Betrayed                                     
When briefly enraptured by dazzling
Images 
Of the shimmering Aegean:-
And you, swimming alone, in your
Perfectly constructed little rocky 
Idyll                  
Where brightly coloured shoals of
Exotic fishes teem; 
Then that reinstated glare,                    
Fiercely conveyed with all the
ferocity 
Of a blazing Grecian sun,                              
That perpetually resides 
In all its burning arrogance there!            



For I envision a single angry tear,
Pertaining to a faint hint of dark
Mascara,
Hesitating against a brushed 
Indentation
As if a last remaining,
Desperately-clinging, raindrop
Being pushed acrosss the oily 
Curvature
Of my panoramic windscreen...                            
A tear that contains, perhaps,
The whole of the worlds filtered
Oceans;                                                
The pitiless look in those wild, 
Turbulent eyes
Awash with the currents surging ebb;
Low utterances of broken trusts,
Unrequited love and misplaced 
Devotions...                                             
All precursors to oft repeated vocal 
Denunciations
Spawned from some unjustified,
Obscure, nagging doubt;                                   
Recalling my own dismal resignation's 
When knowing better 
Than to try and hopelessly intervene!                    
Same old recriminations and wearisome           
Accusations                                     
Now being muttered, I should'nt wonder,
Barely audibly throughout...                                                                                            
Will herald the onset of newly 
Assembled confusion... 
As you struggle wretchedly 
In preparation for another troubling
Dream!                                                                       



Overhead, lunar dignitaries, arisen  
From behind confinement of their cells 
Celestial bars...                                            
But irrevocably anchored to the
Impossible deeps;                                                 
Here, patiently awaiting, in all their 
Accursed immortality, 
The defeated Titans and great usurped 
Cronus soundly sleep;                                                                                                       
And a gathering together when offering 
Obedient prayers:-                                                      
Cloistered abominations of awakened
Stars -                                                                       
Whose exultation's shine brightly in
Dutiful obeyance -                
In worshipful praise of his most 
Hallowed regime!                                      
They whomst unashamedly dare to 
Brazenly gaze 
Upon portrayal of flushed irreverence;
Now attempting, albeit she greivously 
Offended 
Like a cast-out Angel,
To stagger up the step's defiant 
Incline;
Which, in supportive awkwardness, 
Stoically resists the steadying 
Advantages 
Proffered from thickly carpeted 
Stairs.                                                               
But I have long since fled.
For soon I will join the thining lines 
Of departing cars 
That invade upon the unearthly realm
Of flittering Bat and barred Nightjars.        


Please read part two.
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