Short Aluminium Poems

mound
vacation leap sadness viol frame pit
castle
ground elevator hold testament
kitchen

situate
aluminium
oculate


octopus talk biblical stories...

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This vacuum
of empty face,
trickles condensation
of empty smiles,
foreign tongue points
and at last a happy mouth
on aluminium stairs,
as the light descends
my reflection....

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Metal thou art not,
Ye alchemists’ Majestic Aluminium
Thou regal geometric shape with equillibrium
Siphoning H2O to the nether world,
Making us not to rot,
Metal thou art not.
[ Bodna: Water container used in toilets]...

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Far from the warm holes
a mess of doors and
wings, wrecks of dents

and the broken lights of
lost souls,
the shitten hope

of a young man`s last skid
that led to flowers
cold on a country roadside

and the whisper
between the aluminium
begging till the battery leaks;

I did not want
To lose my body
But I was no good at life....

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Check your cheques
You must realise or recognise
Quarrelling analysing skillfully
Without criticism centre or colour
Judgement no theatre of grey of arguement
Like a boats draft determined by draughtsman
Curbing ones thoughts like avoiding a roads kerbs
An encyclopaedic almost an un-parallelled programme 
A marvellous jewellery there not of aluminium but of pure Gold
Just English...

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I could see the old woman's figure,
not quite straight, comedic silver eels
of white,writhing in her hair

by her side, an aluminium pot, 
plastic-wrapped, an errand perhaps 
or totem for a friend?

a glimpse of her gentle jaw and 
deep-tanned face, belied her peasant 
strength, her country grace, 

I opened up, and quickly sped ahead, 
and when I reached her funeral pyre,
I realized she was dead...

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Don’t bring me down
With all this shopping around
Piling things up high
Making others wait   being a hoarder guy

So very smooth you are
With hand sanitizer by the box so far
Some may never need again to buy
Toilet paper stacked to the sky

So instead of many aluminium foil hats
They will be making paper trains and that
Perhaps the whole world could enter now
That wedding dress competition out of toilet paper to take a bow.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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Waiting for you
Is listening to the tap dripping
Into a sink full of cold dishwater

Waiting for you
Is watching a cockroach
Cautiously poking its feelers
Out from under the fridge

Waiting for you
Is feeling a cold pain in my fingers
And a hot pain in the small of my back

Waiting for you
Tastes like an aluminium spoon
And smells like a damp rotting floor mop
Waiting for you
Seems never to stop
Waiting for you
Is

		Unpleasant.

© Barry Freeman - May 1997...

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