Shooting up from the oceans

PROSE FROM THE PENCIL CASE

INK IN THE SKIN

Gas Station Horror PoemGas Station Horror

If you can’t write your dreams, remember to live them. Then maybe someone can write them for you.

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Dog catches car, drives it off cliff

POETRY

In an analogy of Brexit I ask, if a dog ever caught up with the car it was chasing, would it know how to drive? In my world of political poetry, who’s afraid of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings anyway?

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN DOGS AND CARS

Dog Driving2

It’s the end of the world we know

POETRY

It’s Easter, and I see local news anchors handing over gleefully to weather reporters, “Isn’t the weather lovely?” No it isn’t. It shouldn’t be like this. But because it is, thousands will flock to the beaches and leave their plastic human pollution behind. I’m also following the Extinction Rebellion movement on London’s streets, and counting the days before the government approves water cannon. I’m stuck at home with a typewriter, watching the first clashes of fascism with socialism

GUINEVERE

Human-Extinction-Upon-Us2Is human extinction upon us? (Might that be better for the planet?)

The end of a world we once knew, is the foundation for a world we don’t know.

The asymmetry of infant species

POETRY

Give an infinite number of monkeys a typewriter each, and some will eventually transcribe Shakespeare. Others will sit on those antique writing implements and eventually sell them at boot fairs, while still more might not work out what they’re for. It’s all about evolution.

Thinking anxiety2Image: Tambako the Jaguar via Flickr / Creative Commons

Give a laptop to an ape though, and it might realise it has an evolutionary tool.

Dead typewriter

More Pan troglodytes / Homo sapiens collaborations in the poetry section of evolution.

 

They’ve gone away on holiday

POETRY

We’re only gone when we’re forgotten, but when we remember, sometimes they visit us. They still walk among us. You just have to keep your eyes open to notice them.

BLINK

In a moment3

The cat thinks it wants to go out

POETRY

Where you’re from doesn’t have to be where you were born. Your heart can come to life many years after you’d merely breathed to find belonging. Where you’re from is where your heart beats, and for me that resides in an ode to London SE13, and especially SE6. It’s a world where nature prevails, word on the street is the jungle book, and cats wear murder mittens…

catford se6 cat poem

No empty bench at Sainsbury’s

POETRY

I write poems for the people, I write prose for myself, and I write for everyone. Sometimes I write in one form about writing in another. Poetry is often made of shared memories…

Monkey Black heart Sid and Nancy

Words © Steve Laker.