Hampstead glory

April 30, 2016 § Leave a comment

Mmm… that striking way London has of giving us two or more types of weather at a time… I love it.


That short walk in Hampstead town
Was really quite invigorating.
I made the trip from station to station
Feet slapping the pavement tilted briskly downhill
Owing to the location of each station.
Or, should I say, each station’s location?

The sky was rather dark
But that’s not to say ’twas not the middle of the day.
Anyway, the skies were cramped
With soaking dark-grey underpants
The recurrent threat of rain makes them shudder
But me, I’m amazed by the sight this light uncovers.

By god, the light of day is beautiful
Striking the leaves of April trees with such exuberance
But it is particularly heart-stopping when it…
When the whole scene is set before a dark-grey backdrop
Rainclouds miles away where the day is dark
Framing our splendid sunset like gorgeous art

It happens sometimes after a bout of heavy rain
Often accompanied by a rainbow or two
Though truth be told, I find them almost frivolous.
A period of breathless calm and regenerative quiet
As the storm clouds sweep into the distance
And we are left with naked rays of sun.

Or it may happen as the clouds approach
(Sometimes they even pass by without relieving themselves upon us.)
But anything is worth it for that view
God, I could gaze at it for days at a time
But it only lasts for such a little while

If other people raised their heads for a minute
Perhaps they might see it, too
For the time being, it is mine and don’t forget it
I am sole admirer of this blue-metallic sky
And of the goldish green leaves that silhouette it


Again with the angst

April 30, 2016 § Leave a comment

Angst of creation and not being able to create. Thinking back to the days I’d obsessively write and draw in my childish little notebooks, uninhibited creation, where has it gone? Not to mention dancing!

I watch and read Bukowski
I need to write, I need to drink
I need to write anything as bad as I can
Once I get over this obstacle of mediocrity
I can get back to that old state of creativity
I used to drink, I used to have fun doing
Stuff that no one needed to see
And no one ever even cares
Not even me
And I used to dance
No fear of shame, for the shame was on them
And I used to laugh
Because I was the only one on the floor jiving
To silly rock covers
Sometimes they joined in; I was a character
Fear comes from shame and the unknown
How can I be afraid when I’ve already done it?
What stops the pen from marking paper as it used to?
Why must fear step in now, when I most need it conquered?
Dance again, Jen
And drink
You know
You can.

A poem about work.

April 6, 2016 § Leave a comment

To anyone who works in the catering industry. Or any other industry that this may inspire.

On the one hand, they are so nice
On the other, they make it difficult
To be part of a world of false smiles
And distasteful discomfort, when something fails to go their way

Money has changed hands and
Forgive me if I’m mistaken but
This seems to be the ultimate contract for total compliance
To their own personal wishes in spite of whatever
Other humans may stand in between
Them and their desire for total satisfaction

And, if possible, partial reimbursement
At the end of the whole ordeal.

Where Am I?

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