Short Lightbulbs Poems

A rusty old retro vintage bubblegum drop machine
Positioned next to me as I am seeing above me
Spherical lightbulbs and strobelights of flashing rainbow colours....

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The ground was full of brittle crackly things
They broke as I walked.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
I thought I was walking on lightbulbs.

I stopped walking to look and see
These things were curvy and brittle.
I put them on my fingers and wore them to dinner.
They were cicada shells

Not a big hit with others at the table....

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Brightness peeps into
yellowing net curtains;
brief wafts of a semaphore sky.

An elderly lady has planted her mind
in an apartment,
lightbulbs burn out, are never replaced;
sunshine squints through thin drapes.

Daily she shoos the world away,
discourages rumors
of unnecessary things.
Mail piles up
on her unwelcome mat....

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big ideas
     unfilled 
four months of thoughts ive kept in my vacuum
twirling 
     swirling 
spinning ideas bouncing off each other
cracking spines in empty space
     shattering 
lightbulbs
     unlit
scream all you ****ing want
nobody is listening 
nobody cares
you’re another fallen leaf
     floating 
held in thin air
by your stubborn pride 
and inability to admit 
you need some ****ing help...

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In my room with its broken latch
There's postcards of hens and foxes
and a disused TV set
There's a collection of analogue cameras
Some I use
Some of my lightbulbs are out
There's a book of Trakl and his Blue Melancholy
and Sylva Plath with her German Mannequins
 There's albums out of time
Susan Pilsbury and Jimmy Campbell
You see  the past comforts me
There's poetry of my own
some bonded others nestling on my cupboard
I hope to get published soon 
...

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