Monthly Archives: August 2017



5 Kroner’
With a hole in the middle
What to make of this?

Found on the street
It fell on a downward spiral
Into the deepness of my pocket –

Living on the street up to now
Now I imprison it
in the dark recesses of linen.

The hand went deep to
retrieve it
on returning home

Examination ensued
I’m told –
don’t necessarily
collect coins…

Catalogue: –
Worth anything?
This Danmark Kroner?

Very little.
So back into the pocket you shall go

Why have you come into my life?
You only pose questions.

And the hole in the middle?
Hi Diddle Diddle
(there’s a hole in the middle)
the cat and the Fiddle…
Cows jumping over moons –
I mean…come on?
Dogs laughing?

Dishes and spoons animated?
Running away with each other?

No – just a hole in the middle
Hang it around your neck –
liberating it from the cell
of your garment and once again
into the light of day,
no longer
to return/remain
on street
at feet
amidst the dirt and grime
but rather
exalted and exultant in
full majestic view,
joined to a handsome chain of gold enthroned on the neck
for all curious glances
made a fuss over
as the story unfolds:
‘I found it on the street…’

No longer homeless – adopted – a permanent child with a father…

Kroners with holes
I at last have seen and obtained
LG 1995 Jp with hearts and crowns

Worth little
for exposure and PR.

If only holes could speak.
If only Kroners could smile.

And yet I can sense it’s satisfaction
See it’s silver glint
All washed up – on display
an all-washed-up existence.

“Oh Kroner attached to my person swinging on a permanent swing of gold.

I know little of your life or background – I have never been to your birthplace.

But you will remain my friend, my companion, my little muse.

I might even grow fond of you”.





Just another man walking down the street
Just another man walking down the Avenue.
Inside – body particulars –
in all men
made the same

Inside – a mind that ticks with time
– ticks with the clock

“What makes you tick?”
the question is often asked
the heartbeat’s journey through time,
That’s what keeps me ticking.

Keeps the mind alive
In meditation’s ponder

Looking to the left – looking to the right
He crosses the road of the street of the avenue
Not taking enough care in concentration

But he gets there
To the other side – I mean
His mind ticks over and he realises his mistake

So he ventures back the way he came
A long enough journey – he strides to return

To the newsagents – where he’s already been
Yes thankfully – he did leave his umbrella there
And yes – no one else took it.

“While I’m here give me another packet of
those Fisherman’s Friend’s.
You know the one’s that help you breath-easy”.


He returns the way he came before he returned
the way he had come

He crosses the street of the avenue
with great care and concentration.

And disappears into the crowd with his Friends.












“And I just want to thank Jim for all his hard work”

With this – it was over
And it only remained for glasses to be chinked
And conversations expanded to subjects
other than the toast and the toasted.

Relaxed – on chairs and sofas they lounged
And exchanged semi-serious views
And ‘attention getter’ remarks
That allowed he who was totalling things up
To give ego points filed in his brain.

The toasted decided to go
Leave the company
knowing he would leave the Company

No-one else knew
Seemed a shame really –
all that toasting business
For a deflated aftermath
Expected –
when he would announce his resignation

Still – there is always the memories
The lasting memories
Lasting at least a year.

Better paid it would be
Bigger office no doubt
‘Advancement’ – the cause
‘Advancement’ – the cure.

Further up ladders
To peer down at him
Who would look up to him
And who would look down on him

Hims or hers
As the case might be

He ventured home in a taxi
With toastings – still ringing in his ears

As he hit the pillow
His nose disappeared
His neck took a cramp
It extended to his ear

But he salvaged the situation
By relaxing…

He had salvaged the situation
in his life…





Dog driving



There is a dog’s head floating in my rear-view mirror
Musn’t get distracted while driving
But look again – how can an animated dog’s portrait
Find it’s way like a floating balloon?
I adjust at the traffic lights and stare more fully
Into the mirror
And then I see it is the glass in the car behind
that adds the transparent sun-kissed mirage-illusion of the body-less hound
It’s head actually stuck through the half lowered window
I try to see if there is a dog driving, according to these sun-staccato’d windows of deception.


I stare at the wall
In the waiting room
Its raining outside
A number of folks stand-by
The bus will leave soon
It means going out in the rain
My eyes wander
Other eyes stare at the wall
One pair of eyes wander
And as though synchronized
Both sets – land on the clock face
Five minutes to go
Soon it will be like we are rescued
When we reach the bus seats
Cause it rains cats (lions) and dogs (wolves).