Mondays are Right Bastards #writephoto


And so to Sue’s prompt – v. late as I am, a poem about time from this


Monday Morning

The clock flips over.

I stir, dragged from my Kapok smothered dreams.

I struggle upright like the first primate,

And the forward shuffle, preternaturally aged.

Wobbling I make the bathroom without memory.

I sit and piss. If I try to stand and perform,

I prove, for the umpteenth time, that I can’t multitask.

The clock flips over.

I exercise my eyelids; small, painful push-ups.

I stare in the mirror; a dark eyed cadaver is blocking my view.

Like some trainee barrista, practising his skills,

I tip blood-rippled foam into the sink and sprinkle it with bristles.

My fingers have solidified overnight.

My trousers and shirt fight with flimsy determination to stay hung.

My cuff links scurry away from my grasp, like coy beetles, refusing to pair off.

The clock flips over.

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Author: Cianaodh Óg

Cianaodh (Pronounced Key-Ah-Knee) is Old Irish and means Ancient Fire. Óg is also Old Irish and it means Young which is my surname in modern English. My given or legal name is James "Troy" Young but my chosen, magickal name is Cianaodh Óg and most people who know me outside of my spiritual family know me by my middle name, Troy. I am the High Priest of Tribe Of the Standing Stones in Arlington, Texas - Spirit Of the Sycamore Tradition and variety blogger as well as Chief High Mucky Muck at Alliance of Polyspiritual Eclectics.

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