Innerlogue

Some people hear a voice in their head
That they don’t think it’s them,
But that’s okay.
They’re not schizophrenic,
They just don’t think that it’s them,
This lodging-voice of grey.
And some people hear a number of voices,
But know they’re them,
So they let them stay.
And some people hear no voice at all,
They’re only them,
A one-voice play.
Some have a voice-of-God narrator,
Or invisible ‘them’
Who must have their say –
Or something less reliable,
But they still hear them
On a quiet day…
Just diff’rent flavours of subconscious-
It works for them,
In their own calm way
And they’re each quite normal, each quite sane,
Are you one of them,
With a chatty stray ?

A Mug’s Game

No matter how new the blade,
And no matter how thick the foam –
No matter how many passes made,
My stubble sits right at home.
The razor burn is fiery,
As striation still sing out –
Yet my chin is grey and wiry,
With the crevices in-sprout.
My whiskers are a warning
That I’m not so young and steady –
It’s first thing in the morning,
Yet it’s five o’clock already.

Hold Your Breath & Count To Ten

Hiccups come with a thump thump thump,
To wrench out guts and punch our lungs –
A painful start, but soon each jump
Has settled down to ting our tongues.
But we never notice when they go,
They slip away to no concern
Once we ignore their gulps below –
To build their strength for their return…