Paul Grimsley
Actor
i paralysed
myself intentionally
this cat and mouse game
extended
pushed to lengths of infinity
chess board
we compartmentalise into a
division of eyes
of i, and different
perspectives
funhouse mirror directives that
work us divergent
broken apart where the decision
forks the road
for one room a mask; for the
other a shadow
and later, when the script
demands consolidation
i am picking shards with careful
fingers
and laying them aside in tiny
piles
like needle sharp smiles
scattered
poking around and pushing for the
gestalt
while the broken calculator gives
back wrong answers
i cannot collect myself,
together
pulled and pushed and left like
tide borne debris
they watch from the
outside
throwing voices into this echo
farm
trying to pull narcissus from the
snail shell
extricate from the downward
spiral
but the winding staircase
collapses
looking at myself ahead,
behind
my travelingunraveling mind
sat amongst
the fragments laughing loosely
Empty
Phrasing
poets and prophets of nothing
all your dog end days and
ramblings
stubbed out in the ashtray
smoking
debris in the beer
floating
it collects in the veins, that
crap
works to change the inner
workings
rust in an over wound
clock
that ticks as a bomb until
disintegration
our words scrawled on the wax
tablet
our thoughts erased on the cold
morning
philosophies dredged from the
beer mug
vagaries gathered from the
shaman's drug
all our vision quests are on an
in the maze centre
all these failed attempts to cut
the umbilical
inertia push from the centrifugal
impetus of
mother spinning like a lynchpin
in your world
Freud would be proud of your
denial
all the chauvinists stood on
trial
with their crocodile tears
standing stagnant
anything real in them left
dormant
they might make a stab at real
some day
with their flaccid pricks in
their hands
surrounded by empty
bottles
taking a piss test because of
some low rent whore
Voices
Breaking
some
voices are lost in the passage of time
others shatter in brittle
instants
the fragile beauty tested,
stressed
pushed to the limits of a
straining note
that no one can hold
it is the resonant frequency of
dissemble
we waited to hear what was left
to say
but the half formed alphabet
soup
is a gobbledygook of
nothing
an incoherent suffering leaking
out
to stain the other
pages
to provide an unwanted
footnote
Made in the UK, remade in the USA (with
better technology), the writing machine that is Paul
Grimsley, rolled off the assembly lines with reinforced
titanium fingertips in order to facilitate the prolific
output for which he is noted.
He currently has twenty poetry
books published and two collections of short stories, all
available from http://www.lulu.com/psgri2003.
| 