the very first piece I ever read aloud in public
Visit to where I once belonged
Dust thick without age
Gloom where once was light
Bone white death where once I had life
Last of my kind when once I was many
Radioactive fallout killed once already
The need for money lost on me now
Mushroom cloud took that with my life
Man grew up in a flash
Now he is dead!!
I no longer want/need my old dancing shoes
They were sold to the board of common sense.
When dancing became the latest taboo.
I no longer want/need my old pint glass
I smashed it with the bible of insanity
Sobriety the only insanity not now the latest taboo.
My coffee cup now grows a green fur coat
Caffeine highs only now for the ruling classes
Thinking now taboo for the lower classes
My guitar hero now hangs by his ankles
His double ankle noose wanted/needed by the caffeinated class
As the music of happiness now the latest taboo
I want/need my old life back
When thinking for myself was all the fun I needed/wanted
Let’s have the power crazed caffeine fuelled added to the list of the latest TABOO
Aug 2019
Corona the goddess of social media,
Corona stirs up her pilgrims,
Her pilgrims stir in fear,
Social media her many agitating implements,
Coronas pilgrims panic buying everything,
Stirred up by her social media,
I am no Corona pilgrim
Living outside her social media box.
© 9/3/2020 r leach
hello one and all at #dverse tonight I have reworked an old poem from back when I could manage to grow onions for the pickling jars. time does not allow these days.
PEELED AND PICKLED.
Tears peel from my eyes,
As I strip the onions,
Out of their papery, papery skins,
Birds eye chillies sneaking inn,
Ready for salty, salty bath time,
Prepped for the,
Dark malty vinegar,
Before hiding in the cool,
Darkness of the potting shed,
Three months until edible treats,
Until served with cheese ploughman’s,
Pickled onions BOMB my taste buds,
To the twang of the cheese.
© rog leach 24/2/2020
reworked 01/08/2023
           Bless the blackness of my love,
Sing of the love in my black heart,
My rock and roll life darkens my view,
Of my wife’s wonderful words,
Throttled by my drugs,
Drowned in my booze,
Extinguishing a million candles
One by one by one.
Black on white your view says,
White on black says your word,
But your lack of grey,
Steals away my life’s’ motivation,
Over complication of darkened thoughts,
Cloud your true thoughts,
Like flocks of paper planes adrift,
In the true-blue sky of my mind,
Dreaming of surfing the flesh,
Of the groupie’s ample chest,
Like all rock stars before me,
Here I sit alone in the dark,
Too much love to live,
Too little to thrive,
Not a dribble in the midmost.
© rog leach
perspective poetry 
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