Repeat Prescription

fun addict
sun addict
marathon run addict
pain addict
train addict
new muscle gain addict
smoke addict
coke addict
laughter and joke addict
sport addict
port addict

prescribe yourself God.


FIFA addict
COD addict
grand theft auto 5 addict
i-phone addict
wi-fi addict
virgin and sky addict
wealthy addict
selfie addict
trying to be healthy addict
food addict
good addict

prescribe yourself God.

buckie addict
lucky addict
cash in the attic addict
porn addict
scorn addict
sad and forlorn addict
sex addict
hex addict
text and Tex-Mex addict
hair addict
prayer addict

prescribe yourself God.

love addict
glove addict
push comes to shove addict
fitness addict
witness addict
countdown to christmas addict
small addict
tall addict
going to the mall addict
spring, summer,
fall addict

prescribe yourself God

church addict
mosque addict
temple, synagogue addict
hate addict
weight addict
avoiding being late addict
darwin addict
marlin addict
business is the business addict
pill addict
thrill addict

prescribe yourself God...

 

posted on poets united poetry pantry #169

...rejecting the science of love...

shooting out across this space
spun aboard this mirror ball
no thread or safety net
alleviating threat,
just hanging
and 
evolving at the perfect pace
(some say)
to find us face to face;

sure skeptics can believe
we were not meant to be,
a chance encounter
surging from some 
mass
atomic 
spread;
 
but facts are facts:
i am secure 
and you were there
and you are here
for all i know
(words left unsaid)
the world's a snugger place
when tucked inside our room
atop a planet's pirouette 
i wake again
on your side of the bed.

Rain

... pouring rain,
is typing down,
in clicking bursts of
punctuation on the patio
rhetoric in the residue,
letters to the land, 
one question mark
or two...
 
a season ends 
and brings
the fury of the dove
up close again
(send her deep) 

in rainfall 
it's you,
who asks the earth to 
whisper back,
to sleep,
or to remain awhile.
 
perfect rain
casts out fear,
no question asked, 
no quarter given,
aiming shards of deluged heaven
(soak in)
on doubtful ground

and suddenly 
no sound.

Bolt (100 words)

The gun cracks and fires everyone to life again. The stretched elastic seconds of hush are released. I unfurl my back and my legs piston into motion.  I zone out, channel the crescendo of  voices, the frenzy of emotion and never let go of the line. Colours are liquid, bobbing in the distance and I am moving across my dance floor. I am a hunted gazelle in a cheetah's body rushing to freedom. And all too soon I am pointing. Draping the flag around my shoulders. Joining the party and dancing. Touching skin in a volley of high-fives. I am untouchable.



Photo copyright Daily Mail.



old friends

apparetif voices meet in mid-air
cadence cracked, unbroken,
gushing from well-remembered yesterdays,
before the main dish is served:
an embrace
with hearty helpings of
chatting and cherishing
tasting their heritage:
private punchlines pulled from the past
memories long gone,
supping stories,
turning time meaningless,
eyes go glistening
with a tear or two,
a laugh, a nod,
a sip, a swallow,
of who they were,
forgetting, re-forging,
savouring on their palates
the food and drink
of their history.