Writing: Off Days

by Beauchamp Art

-I- Weekday / -II- Burrow in / -III- Afternoon Empire


Head displaced
Slipping sideways
Falling backwards
Words dribbling
Yet keeping together

Vertebrae in disagreement
Pelvis popping
Joints jaded
Throat closing
Teeth ungrateful
In unforgiving grimace
Tongue leather tanned with misspeaking
Ears tin drums ringing

Grease addled in creased sheets
Heavy with several days
of intermittent occupancy
with unsavoury habitation

Falling behind on rest
Semi-sleepless and half-starved
Through and absence of due diligence
Gone midday, gone midnight
A weekday


Burrow in

Attenborough is on
My head gone
The world is bright again

But come the conclusion
Or bodily function
And all I need is aspirin

Blue Whales and polar bares
Shifting climate and solar flares
So nothing is ever green

But buffering breaks up
The euphoric scene
And all peace slips away


Afternoon Empire

Mornings should be banned,
Time barred for half the day,
Liberating lie ins compulsory,
Free dreaming a must.

Clocks all stopped,
And pendulums held.
Let lethargy regin supreme,
And no more face the dawn.

Early birds shall be shot,
Breachers of the peace hanged,
No work is to be done under rising sun,
When the Afternoon Emperor is crowned.