Archive for January 1, 2019

All the thick kids

Posted in Uncategorized on January 1, 2019 by antonyowen

Peace Poet Antony Owen

people walking on street near building Photo by Paweu0142 L. on Pexels.com

For Rob

In maths class

all the thick kids drifted into sky,

I was too busy working out the Algebra of starlings,

one day in May I cracked the code that all of them were pulled

each weaved trajectory was a huge nest from the Tigris to Jatinder’s house.

In other sums

my Dad never worked me out right

he said Drama was Dandy with his Factory swagger.

One day fate subtracted his Father and he wept dry like men do,

each yanked breath sounded like a child inside a man going grey like highway snow.

In Rob’s house

I was myself in a chrysalis of music.

He made new equations of music remixed into dreams.

One day he became a Dad, and a Dad, and a rock star of Cov song,

he worked out all the clever kids were jailed in status symbols…

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The Years

Posted in Uncategorized on January 1, 2019 by antonyowen

A poem for 2019

Peace Poet Antony Owen

bird s eye view photography of road in the middle of desert Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery on Pexels.com

Last New Year’s Eve we made the coldest fire,

lit a fire from our bones and collapsed into undealt things

they call them dreams in the real world but we exist in the realm.

On the last day of twenty seventeen I stared deep into space and me,

I can tell you how whole new worlds burst out like bluebells in black soil

I can tell you how scars of a log hiss out from the hearth like Hiroshima bones.

All of us exist in the realm with the crow fingered sky broken by its touch,

we exist in the climbing ivy wrapped around a house it cannot let go of,

these are beautiful things, haunted as Chernobyl wolves mute to moon.

This New Year’s Eve my hair is so grey its as if my fire has turned to smoke and ruin,

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