Poet's Tea

October 25, 2005

Beenleigh Blue

Eating Stilton before bed gives you more vivid dreams. Not only is this reported in the news but I found Beenleigh Blue (a delicious blue devon cheese) to prove the point on Saturday night. I would have taken some more home with me, but having been stricken by a stomach bug on Sunday night, (non cheese related) cheese was far from my mind on my travel home.
More about British cheese here.

Beenleigh Blue
Your blue scribbles
Weaved their way
through my subconcious last night
Dreams in real-time,
Colour, full surround sound and even
They leapt
Through my imagination

The halllucinagen of Devon's table,
You gave me your hit

With one sweep of a knife
On a warm walnut slice.

October 22, 2005

Tea for just me, please

I spotted one other
Dining alone
Not lonesome though,
You - cradling your phone;
Animal-like in its responses,
Me - scribbling intently;
Cradling my thoughts.


London's glitterati-catchers
On close for comfort hard-backed stools;
Surveying the sushi.

Critical Mass Poem

As by Johan's request, and also in honour of this week's upcoming halloween ride...

Critical Mass

At half
Or thereabouts
The mingled metal mesh
Of cables, Cogs and wheels

Takes off

Into London's inner capileries.
Pulsating, pedal-powered bass
Pumps through sidestreets
To the melody of whistles, bells
and the call
to join
The heady swarm of space;
Slippng by,


Inside the rush of lurid glowing traffic.

October 12, 2005

Critical Mass Flyer...

If you cycle in London get yourself to this month's critical mass - last month the MET issued a letter to some riders, stating that CMers need to inform the police of the route 6 days in advance - clearly against one of the best things about critical mass - its leaderless, fluid, unpredictable, fun!

Here's my lovely flier anyway - if you've got a bike then come along! :o)

October 05, 2005

The Butcher's Door

I was half their height, then,
Onto the empty arm of a woollen jumper
Elongated by years of stretching.

We stepped over the metal partition
A large, looming door within a door
Onto the street,

Off for a walk,

Behind the opening
The devious child who cheats at Hide-And-Seek;

He stood,
All straight and stern
In camoflage that stood out like my yellow boots;

Out of place somehow.

It was the first time I'd seen a gun

He held it, cradled,
eyes wide with anticipation,

watching for the enemy,
As ducked shoppers
Made their way through saturday.