Rock and Rant. John(The Celt) Roach doing the reading of the poetry, music by Smokindog and words by the one and only Straycat.

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…and it’s only Monday



By Straycat


The usual clash:
I turn in the bed, pull them sheets over my head
They continually but hopelessly attack the absurd oddity
Of a dream so real I still shake

Adjust to the nastiest of lights,
Artificial and so bright it might………burn its spite right into your eyes
[You’ll have a hell of a time trying to hide]

At this point, avoid the mirror
Just get this face clear ………and smooth, dreary, bleak, yes, discreet
[Go unnoticed- sympathy is defeat]

One sad smile and off to the tram,
Prevent touch with a bit of luck
I don’t want any contact
Leave me to work
And release me to home
Where I’ll be alone
Waiting on the telephone

Maybe I ought to plan an escape
But I’ll end up in that same old bed anyway


I have things to do and wounds to scratch yet


I won’t lay here apart again tonight
With no one to confide in these dreams when I wake fearing
Death in every corner
Pleading "let me make it to the morning"
Aching for a new dawning
With you here and no need to leave,
A day that belongs to no one else







John