Doest Thou Loveth Me?

It's late
what's the date
silly onslaughts breaking out
oozing fears
spewing countryfied ideals

I'm in a state
Of dependency
and clemency
of giving
wanting living

being adroit
jumping idiotic
reaching my climax
beneath the sheets
I'm flowering, open

yet fading with every snap of doubt






Had a tiresome day.
Docs for me for minor yet persistent niggle.
McDonalds for mid afternoon McFlurry. Mum and me sitting ticketless in surgery car park.
Had my friend round for reconciliation cuppa. Now all calm on all fronts. The wonder and magical power of kitchen tangos.

I'm off out now on my late night station run, Mr H obviously beating the Olympic rush.

Mr Obama takes on Mr McCain tonight in a head-to-head chat.
This fascinating piece of political theatre is being shown live on Sky News at 2 a.m. and if I had the strength I'd stay up to watch it. But I don't so I can't.
Whilst waiting for a Madeira cake to rise this afternoon I wondered things.
I wondered how long hair takes to grow because earlier I fiddled with my fringe with a pair of nail scissors...
Will David Cameron would go 'noteless' at the Conservative Party conference next week. I think not, I think he'll use a lectern and funny little screens.
Will Monty ever drink water.
Would a poem about life as a cleaner/fantasist/quiet wife go down well with the judges of the National Poetry competition.
What would Charles Bukowski say if I asked his ghost something via a website.
Would you give me the time of day?
Would you give me a lesson in how to write
not proper sentences like in novels
but
improper sentences like on how it feels to be on the outside and not wanting to go in
on wanting people I can't get
and some advice on
whether it's better to starve and call myself poet
or continue polishing and call myself honourable
Would you sit with me and give to me all the rules on how not to write
I know you've heard this all before
but not from me you haven't.

If I get an answer I'll keel over!
Goodnight All...

I Don't...Poem

I don't use the word Love much.
Only using it to express my feelings for Lipstick, Brown Sugar
and
People

I don't see People much
Only when they're here to FIX taps or save my soul
or them at number 88
who taunt me with holiday stories/good car deals and their holy God given grandchildren

I don't Neglect people who
Need my silence so they can hear themselves speak
and who
Leave jollier and wiser with a spring in their sodden feet
who call later saying
Thanks wanna beer?

I don't do Bad Things DELIBERATELY
Only when I have to
or
when I need a right red raw ripping laugh
mostly at nine with cocoa by my side
and a mirror

I don't WEEP much
Only weeping when
I accidentally crush a yellow shelled SNAIL
then I curse and breakdown
my imagination leaving me stock-still like the snail embedded in my boot.

I don't use white killing powder
except
to ANNIHILATE the ants which are marching around my conservatory
then I kill with ease


I don't play GAMES
except with people who are players
then I stab medals into my pock marked breasts
and count them like a child, one, two, three, ten.
I don't use the word LOVE at all
except when I feel it all over

I don't HAVE much SEX
except on my keyboard
where my characters do it all for me
I feel through them and I come with them
then delete them with swollen wet fingers

I don't use the word Love much
Only using it to show my Love
for Lipstick, Brown Sugar
and
People.

copyright Angela Norris