I have days when poems slip in and out of my mind, but I don't write them down. I just let them flutter by, like butterflies. Then I do a flash and out comes goodness knows what!

Out of control

Sinking into oblivion
Through shadows on the wall
Taking nothing for granted
In the world of forgetting all

With jagged thoughts, arrested pain
Sharp-tongued harridans cry
Completing the spectacle
Of last night’s nightmare flying by

I’m wide awake in the knowledge
Of things I’ve never known
I trip the light fantastic
And watch me dance before the throne

I feel the crowd falling on me
I take my curtain call
I am slipping through the mist
And becoming so very small

Alter ego, out of control
Bleeps off the radar screen
Gone, hooray, and good riddance
To the someone I’d never been

The four stages of group dynamics are forming, storming, norming, performing. I loathe the storming bit and norming's not within my nature. Much rather go straight from form to perform. Life's not like that, though, is it?

Never again

We witness so many closed eyes
Shout to ears with noise defenders
Lips that cannot be prised apart
By charitable pretenders

Hell arises without warning
Suddenly help is what we need
The reluctant heroes could win
If they were to follow the creed

But the time has passed us all by
The hour glass is devoid of sand
The opportunity trickles
Through a forgiving outstretched hand

Never again are we given
The chance to walk once more this way
To meet the challenge we are set
To live, briefly, the dream today

Wrestling, unless of course it's in mud with another naked lady, is at best undignified and at worst painful.

Bliss

What bliss! To be unprincipled
To kiss the arse of the man
Who offended your wife
To move on, regardless
Of any whim and without requiring him
To apologise or show remorse
To be inured against another's pain
To sleep so sound and wake refreshed
To face tomorrow's harrowing
Disjointed, disfunctional, distance again