Take 5 Poem by GRANT FRASER

1.


Running in and out
of several directions,

every vibration
a picture, taking off,
into history,

billions of red diskus's
rush forth,

young men returning
from town, despondent,
trying to look hard,
in mass produced sportswear,
hood's up!

I keep edging to the left,
why?
with Victoria Bridge
wall at my side,

the student rowers
down below,
oars poised!

the river fluttering,
burning silver,

a frustration
of knowing,

drowned out...


2.


No! I'm not going
to kill myself anymore,
I've got a new coat,
and a partly good photo
I think I took yesterday,

it's good when you feel
you have a purpose,
even better when other's
perceive it too?

as perception leads
you out of the torn depths,

explosions of innocents
hitting your armoured walls,

No! I'm not going to kill
that young guy or anybody,
take my own life just because
I had to get out of there,

I mean evil, is for control freaks
who know no better, than the freaks
they seek to control,

your a flower with a frail
pale helmet, already damaged,
and who knows what else...


3.


I'm so not part of it,
there is too much for
me to love on,
living hard as a curse,
with the shadow gladiator,
retaliating!

people coming out
of their crevices with hooks,

they want catch some
f******,
'new victims required'

even the goverment
with it's crooked fear,

they camoflage it all,
with politics,

I mean if you could only
see it through a telescope
from afar,

(another planet)

a confliction of patterns,

don't follow true....


4.


If your nice,
they'll put you on the map,

I mean if you follow
what they know, or the standard,

if the sun glows ebullient,
and doesn't crackle and snort!

I mean the moon is a fig leaf!
for hiding your C****!

hard to live with out,
this hot burning flow of jysm,

sew demands, of all our women,
consternating in their tight pants,

the bright red pea,
a pulsar in a purse of hair!


5.


I keep thinking something
better is bound to happen,

and keep returning to the
moment where words turn,

into something renewable
for my knowledge in chains,

forgive the poorer pupil
lost in the great big shapes,

that surround me daily
in that daft despair of dunces,

where I can craft a half decent
sentence to float on out of here...