Long Shuffles Poems

Yours truly would never be confused for a gourmand, nevertheless I could enjoy experiencing taste testing select food samples if offered an opportunity of attending a fancy feast viz smörgåsbord, whereby oral indulgence would arouse,...

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Food glorious food

Asia generic guy gastronomy (and how gourmet foods eat destructively clearly beyond any) excess enthusiasm, the necessity to feed and clothe this lean mean exercising machine gunning corporeal essence christened Matthew Scott Harris...

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Being Bob

Bob, is just an ordinary guy in every sense of the word. Five ft eight inches tall, a little on the chubby side and has lost most of his hair. No one pays much...

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As dawn unfolds today beyond my fractured windowpane,
a breeze beguiles the ashen drapes. Like snakes they slip aside,
revealing wanton worlds that race and run aground, insane,
immersed in scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and...

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Anomalous poetic contrivance evokes...
googling inept kickstarted lame outré jaunty hokum

(alternately titled:
Random screenshot within me noggin
instantaneously transforming, 
née devolving into gobbledygook.)

I got born with poker faced physiognomy,
no matter yours truly doth not play cards
though self same...

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My classmates
Theresa Trot had a snot
Hanging from her nose
She sniffs and snorts and swallows
But Theresa never blows.

Now it’s run down past her lips
And settled on her chin
Her teeth look really shiny
When Theresa starts to grin.

She...

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That godless sound
His head explodes at 6:01am
Same as every day
He falls out of bed
Steps on the cat
Slides into his slippers
Shuffles to the kitchen
Puts the coffee on
Bumps his head on the cupboard door
Again
Sits down and looks...

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I wrote the Invisible man poems many years ago. These poems, and I have not submitted them all, was for a little girl who died in a road accident. They are a tribute to her...

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I am standing outside my bedroom, on the precipice of lost innocence.
Wide eyed, and barefoot on cold hardwood.
Someone is hammering on our front door.
My father, looking a bit annoyed, shuffles anxiously down the stairs.
Tussled hair,...

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A single branch, clawed and pecked, fickle and straining,
Lonely Nestling and father, paw and peck at their home
Lonely branch, spasms in the wind
Nestling and father paw and peck, yearn and whimper
These Flightless Birds, on a...

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I see him stumbling around looking for something to hold on to but there was nothing there except the open thin air and a bunch of bureaucrats wearing thin frocks walking around on wet grass...

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Old Mr. Nicholson
totters across the town square
to the barbershop where
Clive has cut his hair
for the last forty years or so

Not hardly needing
even a trim
but pretending
he has a reason besides
the gossip waiting within

Inside, the shop smells...

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Clinging moss
grazes my hair,  
    the ground
almost sponge like
       under my step
with the same growth.

Off to my right
   splashes and lapping noises
permeate through...

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“Ghost Bees”



Inside damned to Hell
The Man walks free

Outside he discovers
what monsters are waiting
to ingest his brain cells

Like bees bury their youth in wax
In the centre surrounded by worker words
sings the ancient Queen

Waiting for prodigy to...

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A Carpet of Sprinkled Stars.

1.

There is solace to be found,
amongst the midnight shadows,

with,

stars embroidered on the carpet of night,

offering comfort,
to my tattered heart,

that seeks only stillness,
as cryptic day retreats.

2.

My wandering mind,
shuffles silently,

massaging the cacophony of...

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In the night's chilling air a phantom figure, drags itself from
The watery edge of the river bank, emerging, rising upward
From beneath the moonlight's illumination, she is free, to walk
The earth's spiritual plain of existence once...

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As snowflakes form into crystalline  beds
Santa dresses up in his suit so red
Reindeer restless to come out of their stall
Christmas is the most wonderful night of them all
All across the world it's so beautiful...

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I am beautiful no matter how dirty I feel
There is beauty from ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and muddy water has never been so clear, wilting petals never so strong
Life is a journey...

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The old codger hobbling upon his cane                            ...

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Night time rituals, that little space of time,
Cathartic relief, along with sweat and grime,
Tribulations of the day wash away, too,
Pool down the sink hole, tomorrow starts brand new.

Night time rituals, bring with them repose:
Weary souls...

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She sits half-dressed next to the nightstand trembling… a constant reality once the night is ready to put her to bed...She shuffles her fingers over the top of the dusty leather bible she always keeps...

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My hand splits the deck, divides the weight  
of galaxies and shadows, halves of fate.  
At a drive-in, the Cutlass grows hot; glass bursts  
like safety-grade stars scattered between laps,  
a...

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She wonders about me so pitifully misinformed
But I'd rather she despise me than let her know the truth
A crazy decision; doesn't make sense and
I wonder what she thinks I'm doing
Can't even explain it to myself

Consequences,...

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The sun spills through the window’s pane
And settles upon a cherry wood cane.
And on that cane an old woman leans
As she stares out the window at trees of green.

Her mind drifts back to much younger...

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A day in June.
Tuesday.
Week’s worst day!
Twenty to five.

A wintry sun,
Low in the sky,
Casts long shadows,
Emits no warmth.

I’m in a dorp
With tired shops,
Bank and church,
GPO and a Court.

Tucked together
Along a street,
With bumpy tar
And dusty holes.

Now and...

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