Poetry Blogs (flat)
The dead man sits on his sofa and watches TV
in his East German tower block apartment.
Cash in the bank pays his bills, no eviction notice here.
What was once a real person is a mummified corpse, all wrinkled and shrunken.
For three years he's been like this, a TV critic.
Bored fucking shitless, dead.
From soaps to films, he's endured them all.
Monday 9th September 2013 12:20 pm
Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.
Worked nights so didn’t see much of it
but in his head he’d got stories of
the Fire God supreme,
vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.
He called the Sun ‘Hero’,
believed it had six pairs of arms,
giant wings of flame
and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.
Made moons blush
Friday 17th December 2010 1:38 pm