only meet on peaceful ground

a sextet of forest illustrations

evening of laments,
past projected remnants,
mindfulness might be good,
maybe some food.

scrolling window blinds,
growling stomach finds,
mindfulness might be good,
probably need food.

they might like me,
have I got the key?
mindfulness is good,
just don’t forget the food.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

the question is not

Illustration of a domestic cat with cosmic powers

questions not working,
we try to help
by asking this question,
“just ask for help”,
with what?

“you need to yelp”,
what?

“what is wrong?”

it’s not so strong,
“get over yourself.”

so I stopped asking for help.

all answers surrendered correct,
the quietest of cries
from want of neglect.

“I must be alone”,
excuses the truly
loneliest excuse to me.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

plaqued from my brain

A painting of the cryptid Dire-Cat or Dire-were

phenomena arises,
sustains in part
common gross mind throughout.

back to the future
don’t exist,
like santa,
his helpers,
and his kids.

things decay,
returning to the sky,
like carbon dioxide bubbles
aspiring to fly.

all choked,
none helped,
“cosmic tragic”,
this autistic joked.

this is earth
mass extinction.

will hominids survive?

the insects might be ok,
they’ve survived a lot,
they say,
small mammals maybe,
some stuff in the sea,
a tardigrade or two,
swimming in poo,
birds probably.

they eat insects,
and grubs
and have fluff.

any bigger than tabby cats,
will be worm food for rats,
rats the size of cave bears,
cats roaming as dire-weres.

the insects stay small,
not enough oxygen
to grow tall,
in numbers they explode,
without hominid manifesting
with their scoops,
refining poops
now poisonous soup.

out the gobs of asses,
proclaim to the masses,
while our land is dying,
politicians play their dices,
betting against evolution,
apocalyptic dumping,
crack in the earth
tells horrors unheard,
dying seabeds,
all laying
now
with dead heads.

their names you will know,
they grow and they grow,
like social cancer,
the cruelty
and
the banter.

politician they label,
important and able,
take money from the old,
steal our lives in their mold.

politician policing
all their guilts
like it’s singing!

this decays now,
it looks like snot
expelled from a bot.

be moderate,
be boring,
stop the snoring…
the dire-cat is calling.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

when does loneliness end?

painted face in profile rest in one hand

laying on the sofa,
listening to the ambience,
dreaming of what was lost,
living for the transients.

waiting for what’s impossible,
that wish that never comes,
believing that someone will notice,
as this tragedy floods.

no-one wants to know,
hoping the quietest fades,
stories of sadness,
cancelled by old age.

when will this end?
no longer noticing pain,
lost in the memories,
that will never live again.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

look act feel secrets

nine human faces arranged in an irregular grid

look,
no need to analyze why,
simply felt,
feelings are true.

act,
the need to ask why,
doubtless sceptic,
wary of truth.

feel,
watch the clouds pass,
blissful eclectic,
abandoning the proof.

secrets,
kept behind closed doors,
funking spasms,
holding the passions.

one,
go freeform you see,
just two,
maybe just three.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

truthfully felt

a big cat profile picture

why do they exist,
I mean feelings that is,
the hard done dealt,
the sorrowful one dwelt.

surely it only matters
if they’re true?

if the main point
is to sense the moment,
why do we
do it again?

each moment feels
unique in its stills,
a perfect capture,
a blissful chapter
continuing to everything else.

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM

is it just me

silhouette of a buddha like shape in the backdrop to a cosmic phenomena

not interested in ignorance,
grant audience to wisdom,
fake news by fake news,
distractions of trillionaires,
blessed those without hatred.

invented war of want,
taken every penny legally,
as they push on our walls,
“bollocks to this,
no more taking the piss,
down with the lot of ’em,
they’re the ones driving this.”

to ignore them would be foolish,
to follow just foolishness,
don’t be a fool,
“you’ll be just a tool,
satirist drained of humourous gaze,
the authority is built by moguls,
media steals socials,
vomits it back as hate!”

stop reading the news,
look for clues,
find out for ourselves,
if they’re the ones,
or are we just foolish old self?

© Copyright 2023, IsatTM