It's the wrong trousers!

The world has the wrong trousers on.And nothing fits my head either.All is akimbo.All is dark. Glimpses of light come and go like tube stations, but basically I'm in a black tunnel, travelling horizontally when I need to go vertically to the daylight.

I won't go on other than to warn you that the first poem is a dirge, but it is the only thing that fits exactly, so I have to wear it.

Tis Titus's bus drive and a fine one about animals but the only animal I could come up with was me. Apologos. I've added an old one at the end that fits the prompt a bit better, but comes from the same well. I only have one well, I'm beginning to think I only have one bucket too. Links to Titus below and to the side.


Parallel lines


Live within them
tumble without them
stumble the dire strait
The straightened narrow
Confined cornered
Bitched bollixed bewildered

Is it a pit or a pendulum
They’ve tied to nights
Sleepless arrow ?

Daybreak
Faces up like wallflowers
No sun no yard arm
sanity unrequited
Common cents
The finishing lines
These pistols of dawn
their rising panic of
another day
laid out before them
like a swaddled corpse

Waxy sweats break out
On the bus the train in the car
The shakes beaded beats like
Tiny hammers and coffin nails
Mirror after mirror
Day after day
Finite/infinite
Fleeting/eternal
Darkness, daylight
Incessant repetition
black dogs barking
And no going back
And no going forward
Grinding the gears, meshing the cogs,
of work, of death , of dreams.






Menagerie a tragedy.
(The auld triangle)


We hibernated most winter
but roared like snotty lions in the spring
We were howler monkeys, whooper swans,
cheeky meerkats always looking for a better view.
Our dads were grizzly bears
who never let the hare sit,
and when they were angry
the women showed their arses-
(only metaphorically, not like baboons)
especially the big ones who
were all cellulite and combustion.
We swarmed like rats in the summer
and swam like seals in the sea,
lounged like lizards on the canals grassy banks
and slept like lambs in our beds.
Mam and dad would fight like cat and dog
then make up like love birds, months later
we would be quiet as mice while the new one came along
When we could we ate like pigs and
as we grew we drank like fish,
Goldfish, that went round and round the pale
but still, like elephants, we couldn’t forget.