Nick Monks studied philosophy at Hull University. Spent about seven years working
and travelling around the world. He likes fell walking and post modern philosophy
books. His pamphlet Cities like Jerusalem is published by bluebell publishing.

Five haiku poems 2

A blissful meadow of grasses
With thousands of geese feeding on seeds
Is the outside wrapper of a city

Floor of wood, plaster walls, tile roof
A bed is a train, a plane ticket, a car seat
Where we travel to stay still

If it snows for 600 days on suburbia land
Then where tasting the baptism, the first
Wine snow, cinnamon snow, sap snow. The new

A light bulb is an imposter sun
A sink an imposter ocean
We like tidying up and making coffee

The people wandered the plain
Looking for a home, in the wilderness
One man got lost and wandered alone

Sabre Toothed Tiger

I am alone

My teeth are curious, only seven left

I try not to see the others on other side of walls

But hear them sometimes swearing

At midnight I start my work, poetry work

I smoke dried banana skin, rose petals, newspaper, bed mattress dust
In rizzla's with natural gum from sustainable forests

I accept Marx's ideas on the illegality of all utopias

Believe in being born as often as possible, through baths, poems, books, new cloths,
other celebrations, marked by roll ups and pepsi in plastic disposable glasses

Adorno and Baudrillard are my personal aquaitances

I don't play rock music. Get real this is suburbia!
Not Glastonbury or Woodstock

I am realistic and see mortality daily

I leave the fly sticky paper dangling from the ceiling up all winter to save time in August

If they come to get me, they may conclude I am not in

And the rain the screech owls call the harmonic tinnitus

Back to Front.