Cat with church behind it

Early one Sunday Yasmin,
With the meows of the street-cleaner outside
Calling the faithful to morning,

I swept up to find the bed-covers woken down:
A church on my chest,
Its whiskers tickling my matins cold.

Protesting its breakfast call
For a chin of tuna or an earful of biscuits,
I prayed it would let me wake on just one more bowl.

But the tinny sermon of fishy pleas
Lightly drove me from my breath
And I rose down to find the day had taken me.

Bedded open, the curtains loudly showed
The netted calling of passers-by
Proceeding up for salvation below.

I laced the bowls with hope and donned my dream,
I buttoned my questions and my coat,
I shod my gloves and joined the stream.

In Jerusalem there is a street

A mural of Jerusalem
In Jerusalem there is a street
Where two points of the compass meet.
And though carnivals there dance aplenty,
And demonstration a modus vivendi,
It is a place of quiet retreat.

For at the end of the street is a cave,
Where lizards will never behave.
Though spiders send a soul yelling,
It’s there brave translator, Knot Telling,
Surfs the electromagnetic wave.
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Ship on a moonlit sea
I stare at eyelids,
Notice the pattern of blood vessels
Steer the ebb of floaters
On the Sea of Tranquility:

Moonlit reminiscences of
Night-time adventures.
I salute the voyage of the Dawn Treader
As she pulls into port.

Facebook life

Facebook thumbs-up
Counting the names on the list,
Of friends who virtually exist,
I find great worth
In noting the dearth
Of names I wouldn’t actually miss.

Refreshing the page of a post
I thought witty, refined, the most
Pleasure I get
Is to find it beset
By likes of which I can boast.

Threading through my timeline
All of these things combine
To bring me great joy
Yet it is but a ploy
To hide inside from sunshine.