2 Poems from Colin Dardis : U.O.I. & Panning Home


you owe i
what I gave
you chewed in return
and burnt the deeds
now you owe i me
got rid of the id
shoved under the dustbin lid
and showed the world
your property
you claimed me
now you owe i me
you see

you saw the world
in an oyster pearl
and i as rudimentary
grain of sand
compressed in your hand
and then your thoughts formed me
but i was clean, you dirty
yet you saw fit to polish me
astonish me
with fragmented philosophy
given out over cups of tea
now you owe i me

I thought that thought was free
but you laid penalties
for me to suffer
I the caller, you the bluffer
until realism just got tougher
and tougher to be
I exhaust eventually
now you owe i me

after you hurled my conscience
into a new world of appearance
there i swirled through acceptance
then unfurled with reluctance
gave new definitions to the face of bravery
now, oh yes now, you will owe i me.

so I tip toe around the settee
I creep across the sofa
just to settle in your dust
and collapse your casanova
I steal your dead skin cells
and collect your errant hairs
count your toe nail clippings
and bag your exhaled air
wipe the sweat off your leathers
catalogue your dreams
take rapture in each nightmare
enjoyment in each scream

and if my identity
was crushed by your fair hand
I’ll adopt another entity
start being a different man

so since my fragile ego
lies shattered, corpsed and dead
I think I would rather like
being someone else instead

I will take each precious specimen
and use my spite for glue
if I cannot be me, I think you’ll see
that I can be just like you

Panning Home

Our land is close, the end is near
as the world turns, unstoppable.
The horses loose, buck up and rear
and won't return to their stable.

As the world turns, unstoppable,
where day and night forever jeer
and won't return to their stable
with skyline fogged, the stars unclear.

Where day and night forever jeer
as mists of time become fable,
with skyline fogged, the stars unclear,
each soul fading, quite unable.

As mists of times become fable,
the horses loose, buck up and rear;
each soul fading, quite unable,
our land is close, the end is near.

Bio: Colin Dardis is a neurodivergent poet, editor and sound artist from Northern Ireland. His latest collection is All This Light To See The Dead: Pandemic Journals 2020-21 (Rancid Idols Productions, 2022).

His work, largely influenced by his experiences with depression and Asperger's, has been published widely throughout Ireland, the UK and USA, and shortlisted for the Erbacce Prize, Seamus Heaney Award for New Writing, and Over The Edge New Writer of the Year Award, amongst others. Previous collections include Endless Flower (Rancid Idols Productions, 2021) The Dogs of Humanity (Fly on the Wall Press, 2019, shortlisted for Best Poetry Pamphlet, Saboteur Awards 2020), the x of y (Eyewear, 2018), Post-Truth Blues (Locofo Chaps, 2017) and Dōji: A Blunder (Lapwing, 2013). His latest album, a long-form ambient piece, is Back To Work (1tracktape, 2021).


By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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