Tag Archives: poetry from Livepool

Every Night I Say Sweet Dreams.

Every night

I say sweet dreams, I check

the room for spiders

and walking beasts that might scare

you, I wipe gently

the crusts from your eye

and tickle your nose

and it is that holds me

together, for a while

but then I see the papers,

and I know I fight my own

losing battle each night,

a small war, a territory

lost in the middle of screams,

silent and rubble

built back over night

to show a smile to the world;

Half Time.

The category is now changed,

the box to tick is shuffled around

like a deck of cards in the hands

of a teenager drunk

on sideboard cider, cheap

and trashy, a sly grin of arrogant pissed up

humour, which now says I have found Middle-Age

and I scratch my head in confusion,

is it Middle-Age or is it just a shorter time

available in which to get things done.


Perhaps not the right way,

perhaps the way to see it

is that I have earned the right