Archibald Simpson's... Poem by GRANT FRASER

I drained three German beers
and couldn't get out of the seat,

the people looking very
Carrivagioesque,

a sheath of light igniting!

Earth one great big blue
ball of worker ants,

the tragedies, boredom,
the bills, what to think while
your here and what to do next?

thoughts smudged like dark
green paint onto an imaginary canvas,

I am not going to do it again,
black greasy rivulets of water,

clouded beer growing warm & stale,

an imaginary big arrow - pointing
at the truth:

You lie, you lie I tell it....


I can't pretend I don't have quality words,
and that eating big ones, or devouring
the whole mechanism of complexity will
make a jot of difference,

guide me guide me to descriptions that
are beyond this, or poke their heads up out
of such murky worlds,

a disappearance of conscience,
you mystery you, I will never touch or know,

propping myself out of the big living coffin,

maggot mouthed and jaded,

everything is overrated, technology is such
an old Space ship now!

human presence is denying...
and it has cornered itself!

but the deflection comes up
quite real,
you could walk in, disappear!

yet those faces are watertight, but breaking,
they are starless, if not empty!
going along with everything...

the dark red smudge of my heart
writhing in a black closet of stones...