Threatening Mushrooms

We all sit under the threatening mushrooms,

Fat ignorant fingers, 

Attached to fat ignorant hands,

Hold all our fates with a buttery grip.

This world is a sinking slippery ship,

Held afloat, afloat by a careless oiled grip.

 

Better minds hold their heads in dismayed hands,

Our past has been forgotten, we walk on repeating sands.

Backs all facing reason, 

Cheeks all turned about.

Madness threatens to send us back to stone.

Suggested violence now seems,

The daily current tone.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

Blushing Lungs

The man stands and mumbles his words, bound by twists and tongues,

The air sits trapped, his voice weighed down,

Weighed down to his blushing lungs.

The call he makes falls silent,

No phone is there to be rang.

With a domino flick,

His sentence comes falling down.

 

It happens only when the man is put in centre and spot,

Head lamped with a rabbit surprise,

He searches the crowd for understanding,

Understanding rescuing eyes.

Alas, these eyes are only fair weather,

Always closed under stormy skies.

 

He leaves the stage gasping,

Mouth like a talking fish,

Circles his bowl like a clock face, razor thoughts seal his lips.

If he could have the moment again he wouldn’t forget his lines,

He would fire back with fury, the words would ribbon their minds,

And sorry, he would all but be.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

No Title

 

I did not turn out the man I would hope I would be, 

Not as brave or broad chested as some would think, 

Can’t handle the basics or connect the link

Rage my fall-back position of choice, 

Trembling voice, sweated tears,

Cowering boy hiding in shadows of memory fears, broken years,

Lost, I wander from one day to new.

 

Lives and loves pulled to the depths with me, 

Head-locked down I take them deep

Down to the pits where my nightmares creep, 

Down, down, down, darkness drowns,

To a place where banshee`s wale, a repeated story, repeated tale.

Always the dancing tear eyed clown, absent the tears, absent the frown,

Further down into the drown, 

I take them all.

 

The stage is lit and burning bright

Crowds of selective vision, selective sight, 

All with their own worries, personal plight,

No more answers, 

All ears dumb to my screams,

Muffled claps, broken dreams,

Again, the curtain  falls.

 

I feel nothing, an empty hollow void,

Hell bent destruction spat life destroyed

Not a flicker of love, not a flicker of care, 

Empty heart, thousand yard stare. 

With a bull dust kicking pant,

Trembling rambling poison tongue tipped rant,

Feelings disregarded cast to dirt from spit,  pick up your feelings from between the grit

Together we sit, in this hell cursed mind raped pit,

Connected,

We all but are.

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

Back To One

Return the bull of charge and stamp,

Crashes the china, turn down the lamp.

Close the shop, pull down the shutters,

Back to the grey, the flooding black gutters,

Sledging,

My hammer comes falling down.

 

With a hammered crash the birds flee from top and wing stop rest,

Flee from hanging branch, from sea view nest,

Set beyond the green lands of new, fly to skies of calmer blue.

The animals startle, the horses back hooves punch and dance,

Back to the rack,

The dead eyed trance.

 

Back to the brink, the endless track,

Pause the clapping, the patting of back,

Back to the worry and waiting room walls,

The silent smiles, announcement calls.

The same record scratches the needle to nub,

And spinning, it waits to be turned.

 

Myself be picked up and set back to one,

That time has passed, the moment has gone.

All starts again, this race to be won,

Cranking starter, rusty gun,

Hammers pound the flattened earth,

And so, this beat goes on.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

 

Brittany

Here happiness lays where happiness lies

Between the shutters of hazy eyes

Between the sun across the fold

In the cafes where tales are told,

And all the smoking stars.

 

All the lines of sea and grain

All the bobbing boats floating plain

Still their sails they rub the shallow grain,

Hark the gull and gliding bird

Telescope eye has mouse disturbed,

Scampering, he dashes the tinder grass.

 

Anchors weigh the muscled floor

Crashing they broke the watery door

The gentle lap the washing shore

Strokes the land as always before,

And rides, the giving tide.

 

All warm the world warms with warming rise.

Beads flow across no longer lined brows

No red cheeks no tempered rows

That moment but a moment in a memory frame

Glowing light dancing flame, two lovers perched above the grain

They spoke, their spoken dreams.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.