10,000 POEMS – Posted freshly most days
This locked-in-ness takes
getting used to [it has to]
My excess remote talents
feed on lurking/ I forlese
& let a stream of services
play – endless loops keep
me low [it’s easy to fall in
line if lines of drugs don’t
do it] I cry at Episode 4 of
Normal People & I Google
Kanagawa’s waves & miss
a plot twist as they buss –
a-page-a-minute storyline
[until my remote is aimed
& isolation re-established]
Nostalgia –
Don Draper said –
is of Hellenic origin –
an old sensation –
pain from a wound
Don Draper pitched
in a dimmed meeting room
as he – Don Draper – spun
his so-subtle remorse
via a sentiment-filled –
brand spanking new –
Kodak – a Carousel!
Don Draper quoted Greek
at less fortunate men –
Kodak’s suited marketeers –
who shed rolled tears too
as Don Draper sold his love
on an advance button
That softest sell –
a hard-pressed remote
connected to a hot projector
made in Rochester – New York
Never buy quotable poetry –
even Don Draper’s will not do
As long as we can
afford a fineless
subscription to Netflix
we can be assured
that our emaciated
high definition lives
are not falling apart
as much as those
in Series One Two
and then tired sequels
which follow on and on
This life is but a trailer
of endless streams
in which we crumple
on our part-paid sofas
hoping not to be seen
We are suckled
on distortions
of God-given truths
before widescreen tales
Anthropomorphism Rules
Recall childhood absurdities
e.g. Tom and Jerry
showing ink-stained human ways
drawn on pets and pests
We squeeze other species
into a blender of credibility
Perhaps our normalised violence
was induced by cartoon irons
those height-dropped anvils
cast by Dastardly’s Muttley
alongside Disney’s kingdoms
of deviations from the norm
We have taken all naming rights
and re-arranged such old orders
No wonder
that we no longer see
any natural way in this world
Brian Cant
always did,
the man who sang
for this country’s kids;
each late afternoon,
no dull school rules,
as I grew older,
he still played the fool.
Into teenage years,
then into adulthood,
I hoped Brian still did
what he could.
She left her job
at The Mandarin
to finally feel
the London sun,
to another routine
in another place,
her future shifted
into the day.
She made her escape,
back to the sky,
leaving the sick
and trays behind.
Outside the rain
of London greyed,
a stolen light –
sodium replaced.
But she flew past the doorman,
shouting ‘Goodbye!’
The girl from the hotel
danced out from the night.
Answer me – Charles – take as long as you need –
do you know when you will accede?
Prince of Wales – dear chap – you may be disposed –
so instead get crowned on reality shows
Come Dancing – Chas – you would win in a puff –
plus Grand Designs – possibly not Bake Off
We’d all vote for you – ever so ‘umble –
You’ll be crowned King – of The TV Jungle
MIKE BELL | 10,000 Poems 