POEM: The Oven

I wonder if the oven knew

that nothing had cooked?

Just set to pre-heat and left on by mistake.

A changed mind; a different dinner.

Switched off forty minutes later just as it was switched on:

Empty.

Enough time to heat up a meal,

using the same amount of energy,

but nothing to show for the effort.

And if the oven doesn’t know

when its time has been wasted,

and it’s purpose left unfulfilled,

do we?

POEM: Brighton Beach

The clock has counted down

And with a kiss you break your promise to me

That you wouldn’t promise anything

But soon you are gone again

Although our lips are still touching

The darkness hides the loss in both our eyes

And by flashing siren light

The senseless makes sense

As an angel preaches that love can be rented

We are wished a happy new year

Whilst under bloodstained sheets

All dreams born there are soon to die

For a different bell tolls later

As I sail away to Singapore

For an unfamiliar reaper

With a different kind of death

One with too many futile resurrections

That leave it hard to remember

Just who was fucking who?

Only that it felt good while it lasted

Like a sugary donut

Bad for you – but what flavour!

And on a train full of people

I felt so alone

As I remembered how when the clock had counted down

With a kiss

I broke a promise with myself