Tommy Collins Poetry

They crowd the bar like snouts about a trough And trot around cracked glass in fallen drink, Herded by pulsing flashing lights and noise, Letting the music tell them what to think, To put their hands up in the air and jump, To chant and whistle to the Piper's beat, Amidst a heaving mass of sound and sweat, An infernal reverie of dancing feet.

Lately in my nights I have been Revisiting the scenes Of old nightmares, The blurred and Shadowy places All of cobwebs And confusion And sudden changes, Half-familiar recreations, Mirror images Of comforts And locations, The faces of the Living and the dead Both real and Imagined, All and nothing, Tricks and trap-doors, Shifting ground and Eyes between the floorboards, Ghastly things hiding In nettles and thorns, The buzzing of wasps And echoes of words. Some nights I can fly, Escape, ride the elation, But in spite of all trying I cannot force a scream, Breathing speeds up but Will not give way to crying, Heating under tangled covers, A body in panic Sweating with fear As if some great And terrible secret Seeks and demands confession. But there is none. No meaning emerges. Fear lingers in Half-forgotten images.

Today's trip is my sixth along this road Since the beginning of the year and is The first in all that time that will not see Us spend a while together at the end. I continue North for a workshop on The craft of acting and the differences Between it and pretending, to learn to tell A true story through someone else's words Less than a week after my own words failed me And our romantic picture faded out, Perhaps to intermission, just a break, But far more likely the end of the act. Fin.

I think I could show the world my Genius if only I were not so easily Distracted by such fleetingly Interesting things as virtual card games On computer screens or poor shows Or over-hyped sports events on TV, Or last minute shopping just before Ten p.m. for some strange beer I've yet to try or midnight snacks, Or recipes for soups or chocolate cakes, Experiments with herbs and spices Or the impulse every few weeks To run, to exercise, take out my bike Or buy some new piece of equipment, Or replying late to messages and mail Rather than responding straight away, Or cleaning and clipping my nails, Practising shaving techniques with new blades, Or driving around the city with friends, Or drinking tea, trying to ply all trades, Or starting new poems and lacking the Attention to properly finish them