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 

It's a shame when something bugs you so much you can't sleep for the angry feelings burning away inside.

Anger

A day can turn on a sixpence
By the simple act of one deed
The rug is whisked from beneath you
As others question your creed

Accusation is all it takes
To give root to this deadly seed
Injustice creates imbalance
Wild envy thrives on pure greed

Insecurity feeds anger
And that’s when the heart starts to bleed
The steady slope is all downhill
When fears are let loose to breed

Friction serves to stir fry our souls
Then we forget what was agreed
Can't anyone reset the clock 
To the harmony we need?

Can't explain where this one came from. The culprit may recognise him/herself.

The Sound of Silence

The hectoring tone drones on
And demands adherence to her rule
Silence is the required response
Bullying, her self-serving tool

When will the worm turn, I ask
When will the rebellion begin
Well, not before time, says the owl
As the pussy puts on her grin

But soon, the storm will appear
And our wanton ship will start to sink
Takes only one to rock this boat
Before the crew begin to think

The gang plank is the answer
We'll make her walk away from this group
Then we'll be rid of this monster
And can enjoy our pea-green soup

We'll sing to our hearts' content
Play wistful tunes of a yesteryear
Listen to waves that surround us
And wallow in this peace so dear 

Some days are more productive than others. This is the third one I started last Thursday.

Beauty, skin deep

He's one lazy eye and a leg that limps
Past arthritic joints, a builder's bum glimpse
Simple distractions from what lies within
The joy of a life you might share with him 

Breathe his expelled air and feel his presence
Hear the weighted words that speak his essence 
His pock marked visage, may it shield from you 
That rare breed of man whose heart will stay true

Imagination, cast ugly aside
If you answer yes, you will be his bride
He'll pucker his lips, your promise to keep
Revealing your dream: a beauty, skin deep

Another one prompted by observing an argument:

Listening skills

Close mouth
And breathe
Open ears
And please
Try to look
As if you care
Are interested in
What I have to share

I've already had
Am truly blessed 
With your thoughts
Firmly impressed
On my still resisting
Under strain
Screaming, dreaming
Addled brain

Imagine, I implore!
My ideas could
Be equally good
If only you would 
Start believing
I had anything
Worth leaving
At your so sure door

This poem was written yesterday while observing group dynamics first hand.

The put down

When the right of reply
Is refused, now time's out 
Real debate disappears 
Or is struck dumb by doubt

Then, a bullying tone
Can kill inspiration
While just one sideways shrug
Can snub aspiration

So blunt and ascerbic
Is the perfect put down
Watch it poison goodwill 
Will it topple the crown? 

Let's not play this war game
We're wasting precious time
Stand up and be counted
While we still want to rhyme

What's worse than knowing? Not knowing?

I started writing this poem a month ago and its half finished status blocked me from writing anything else. So, today I've finished it.

The demon

Fear eats into the heart
Chomping through beating tissue
Till eyes that are red raw 
Doubt that she can trust you

Watch the darkening cloud
Sadness settling on her brow
What was a steady path
A blind man's stumble now

Hear the pain of her cries
As your vows evaporate
As the demon strolls in
On time, but far too late

Morbid thoughts, I feel them approaching like a veil, a cloud across the sun.

That unconscious step

So, yes, unconscious 
I must surely be
As I slip away
Across the sea

Know the ferryman
He has no change
My leaving date
I must rearrange

A ticket to pass
A farewell kiss
Release the life
That I will not miss

And yet, my mentor 
Ever, it seems
I may return
To weep in your dreams

Members of MoreWriting are taking part in NaPoWriMo 2009 and here's what I wrote for today, promoted by a Flash Poetry title supplied by parisDramaqueen24.

Comedy Club

Ho ho ho! Ho ho ho!
Panted red-faced Santa Claus
But in the Comedy Club
There was no applause

Tell us a funny one
Some wag shouted from the back
And hand clapped poor Santa
As he emptied his sack

No presents for you lad
Santa boomed across the hall
In fact, the joke is
I’ve no presence at all