Thursday, March 13, 2008

Hot Chips Cracked Lips

They dart around

One two quick

Through owlish reading glasses

Long once intelligent face

Grey hair

He bends

Fingers snatch two pieces of chips

Off the dusty pavement

Greasy browned chips grimy white fingers

He straightens

Eyes dart around

One two quick

The hand raises

He wipes his nose

Palms downwards

And chips plop into cracked lips.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Partying In March

It creeps over the sky

This locust cloud darkening the land

With wannabe’s

As mouths go dry

Hearts pound

And the winds of change

Against their shackles strain

Swollen neck veins

As the mike at the star rally

Protests why not just a simple party-

A kitchen top up maybe..?