THE OLD MAN OF WARSAW WHO HOLDS UP THE WALLS

A ZIG TO THE ZAGAT

The bar on Avenue B looked suitably dirty

It was dark and the windows gave no hint

As to what went on inside

I needed someplace quiet

To finish the thoughts I had been carrying

There should have been sawdust on the floor

Like the pearly Yates’s of years ago

A few bearded men sat at the bar

Nibbling on their nuts

It was a trick they’d learnt early

I ordered a stout and watched the menu

And looked at the t.v. screen

Two ultimate fighters got bloody on the canvas

It was obscene

I could find no peace

The pizzas were dairy free

The gravy was vegan

And  the hippies happily nodded at my disgust

They have landed

A few punches

A righteous hook

Here and there

The cheezeless amongst us

WILDLIFE OF THE EAST VILLAGE

ONCE A MURPHY...

There was a baby named Ava

Known for her good behaviour

But with a twinkly eye

She gurgled a reply 

I'm not signing the naughty waiver

BORN IMMIGRANT

    

New York’s a mother

Who has held a torch for me

Visible in beauty

Through the fogs of liberty

THERE IS A CHASM, AVOID

There is a small space

Between forefinger and thumb

Where I sat

In expectation

Of some dark pressure

Whilst in this place I

Twiddledy dummed 

Yet then woke to a raucous call

There is a charming voice

After all 

These years

Deep like light and yodel

ly yours

GONE AND FLAKED

The Erumpent Eructations of Ava
Something worth waiting for