THE MAGIC WHEEL

The magic wheel stops turning and with it any hope is gone

of ever getting my machine back to how it was as it sits stalled

still at seventy-four percent, just like it has been now for the best

part of ten hours.

I write now with a deadline in mind as in a short while my

father will rise from his pit and want to listen to the news and

he'll need to get this machine back so time is of the essence

as I sit here in despair as to what the hell to do

The machine age was meant to be a blessing for human kind

but all it does is provoke angry responses as the updates bring

it all to a stop and leave us wondering if we wouldn't all be

better off going back to the old-fashioned typer

I could have scrawled these words on a nice glistening piece

of white paper but not even I could keep track of all the poems

written if they weren't stored somewhere, giving me the hope

that maybe they'll be there when the update has stopped

But now, as it still sits on our coffee table reading the same

god damn seventy-four percent, I wonder if it'll ever work again

as night turns to day and it still updates, for fuck sake

when will it end?

-----------------------------------

DREAMING OF THE SUN'S WARM IRRIDESCENT GLOW

Damp creeps up my walls

As outside the winter comes calling

The long months ahead of

Chilled frozen nights coming

To wrap me with its refridgerated

Glove destined to keep me cold

Unless I dare venture outside

During those rare few days

When the sun comes to bless us

All with its warm irridescent glow

I just hope that the winter passes

Quickly so the damp don't

Completely overrun my room

And soon we will wake again

With the sun in the sky already

Not looking like 5a.m. at just

Five in the late afternoon as

Darkness comes to steal away

Our warm glorious light where

At least it's warmer than in my room

AWAY AT LAST FROM THE LAST RESORT

I sit in my room

A new room

But still stoned and a little hung-over

As if nothing has changed

But it clearly has as the hallway is calm

And the neighbour to be confirmed

Not yet a junky crack den

For that, I’m grateful

But here the view is just a wall

And the street so anonymous

A buddy who works around the corner

Didn’t even know where it was

When I told him to come visit me

And my phones’ GPS is whacked

As it tells me I sit about a half-mile

From where I actually am

Frankly, it’s all quite odd

As I settle in somewhere new

And still yet, two weeks in,

Still haven’t seen a neighbour

But really I don’t care as all I want

Is to get some rest

Away at last from the last resort

Of junkies and thieves

And the constant fear

Of worst case scenarios

COLDWATER BLUES

On this cold-water Tuesday night

I sit alone

Dreaming of warmth

With a beer at my feet and

A mountain of smokes piled

Up in my ashtray

As winter grips hard

In this apparently moderate

November evening with

Football on my radio and

This laptop on which I work

Most nights are like this

Now deep in the hole

Of middle-aged oblivion

Another day at the shit-tip

Tomorrow is there to look

Forward to and that thrill

Comes just after dawn

And by the time I get

Out it'll already be dark

Before rewinding and doing

It all over again

MISSING YOU

I hate

How this makes me feel

When all I want

Is to feel your skin next

To mine

Embracing kissing

I just want you

To hold me

Like you used to do

The nights are now

Spent alone in bed

Hoping that the next

Time I wake up

The pillow I’m holding

Will have suddenly

Changed for the better

Into you meaning

Us, my first great hope

For a very long time

I want us to return to the psychedelic

Love boutique where nothing else will

Matter except pleasuring each other

SAD AND LONELY EXISTENCE

I know I’m not ready for love again but sometimes the urge

The urge to just go out and find someone and fuck

Well it grows real strong some days and today and yesterday

And tomorrow almost inevitably will be the same

As at work they come straight from the beach and my eyes are on storks

Walking in she would buy her wine whilst simply wearing a tiny bikini

If I ask her for ID I wonder where she’ll pull it from or come to think of it

How she’s even going to pay for it.

Well, to that last question I got an answer but it would almost certainly result in me being sacked

And out on the streets it ain’t much better as the skirts grow shorter

Whilst the amount of bare flesh on display simply gives me a boner

So all I feel I can do is go home, wank and cry myself to sleep.

Bradford Middleton