Out Of Date Poem by GRANT FRASER

The words
had a use by date
and kind of went
mouldy,
in their little jackets,

cause I ate one
then spat it out,
threw the rest away,

now I don't know
what to say,

with what I have,

that is,

the words were
not really mine
to begin with,

anyway...

why can't I be like
space and shut up,

quietude,

thing is I can't
get into it,
without writing it
down,

mirror mirror
out in space -
what kind of thought
spreads all over
your face,

when your seriously
thinking that is?

A buffoon down
here has lost
his place,

among the toads
and roads,

two smooth watery
big eyes
that somehow need
to go,

somewhere different,

vouch me that,

they swat down on
old dead activities,

are they motionless,
should I dig some up?

escape from life's
mechanical pretend stardom