3 poems

six weeks holidays 

I look at the sky and hope it rains

So i don’t have to feel bad

About staying in and playing

Playstation games  

But I will either way

I see kids around the block

Some are kids that i know

That i know i should be out with

But am not

The sun is both a dream

And a cage

The bringer of life

And the (unwanted) reminder of it

Nothing is happening

And it keeps on happening

trainwards

The red car lights pass by

Like an army of blood clots

While I too pass them by

Me never to know them

And them never to know me

All train journeys

Are painfully boring

Sat among mouths that don’t talk

And fingers that don’t point

All in the good name of politeness

And you think of the journey:

That’s a few hours I’ll never get back

But no time was stolen

No thief ransacked your hours

The hours were yours: you spent them on the train

standing at the bar

You need to be drunk for some reason

Although I’m not sure what it is

And no one can tell me

So I chug down the drink to avoid the question

The bar is lit up with faces

Some I know, others I don’t

All people I’d likely never see again

If it wasn’t for the bar we’re crowding

Like it’s a holy temple

And the Jager is our communion wine

The topic of conversation

Is old stories

Most of which i don’t remember

Or wasn’t there for

So I smile, laugh and drink

And think of the bars I’d rather be at