Searching Through The Noise
We've had wars before
but in this day and age
it doesn't seem right
the major power
can occupy
a small independent nation
for as long as it likes
and stuff everyone else.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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A Hard Edge
Haven't we been
married
long enough
to cut out
Mother's Day
Father's Day
Valentine's Day
Renewal of vows crap
and leave the flowers
for the commercial interests
bleating.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The Statistician
The statistician
tracks our life
with his parabolic curve
our nose bleeding highs
to free falling low
life as a graph
tabulated as a statistic
marriage divorce birth death.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Death Match
Tom the alley cat
took out the possum
the Ray-Ban wearing
bicycle riding
death defying
high wire artiste
met his match
though he left Tom
looking like a badly shorn
poodle.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Welcome To The Big Time
Straight from the amateurs
and into the ruck
from the first bounce
I was out of luck
they broke my nose
and kicked me teeth
trod on my pride
and booted me out
to the street.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Talks
Are needed
With an open mind
Not prejudice
To distort perceptions
An ongoing story
Becomes open and shut.
Truth be known
We're not wise
With our secret thoughts
Of subversion.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The White Cabbage
I suppose
I'm in the garden
as much as the next person
but I can't recall
in recent memory
seeing a coloured butterfly
it seems the only one left
is the white cabbage
butterfly.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The Wake
The ancient dowager
In her chair
Only her eyes
Were awake
She could no longer remember
The bustle and fight
Soon she'll be no more
Than a form
Beneath the dust
Covering her wake.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The Worlds A Stage
The damage done
by the overwrought players
in this soap opera
outweigh their negligible impact
on the big picture
ripples lost in the slipstream
of rushing water to mother ocean.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Subterranean
Something sick
spewing such images
from my core
I'm scared to dream
I wish I had a smile
like a baby in her sleep
sweet innocence sublime
instead of that famous line
from Larkin.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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