Me and my dreads,

March 9, 2009 at 6:52 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 17 Comments
Tags: ,

are gonna go for a slow burn
having abandoned all hopes and fears
of changing the world long
snake locks which curl
through the park bench

of being under
stood so simply
not that one wishes to descend
into new age cliche but this world you have made

into the dank earth

with my pretension to the shakesperean
and mad desire
to fracture light and filter life
thru kaleidoscope lenses,
and curl up asleep here on
this park bench,


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  1. You still are the noble usher of the carnaval…You must remember that there are very few of them left…life still is a carnaval!
    Haha, life is a carnaval, indeed, Sherry.

  2. Enjoyed it Paul, Thanks.
    Thankyou, Maxine.

  3. You know, call me flippant, but after a first read, I reread that with a Jamican accent doing the authorial voice, and it really resonated.
    Cool, I can’t do a Jamaican accent, Crushed, it must be an happy accident.

  4. I can so00 see this in claymation!
    Haha, that would be fun. I might see if I can get Tipota onto it if she’s not too busy. There is a homeless guy who lives in the street just outside where I work and I saw him on Friday sleeping on a park bench, Wayne. His dreads were doing just this, falling between the slats of the bench and just touching the ground as if they were growing out of it. When I sat down to write something over the weekend this one popped out.

  5. Park benches are quiet heroes.
    Yes indeed.

  6. Beautiful. I love the light viewed through the kaleidoscope resolving into the sleeping figure on the park bench.
    Thankyou, Thomma Lyn. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

  7. i love the circularness of this, its construction simple yet awesome really and how dreads the hair and dreads the feeling comes together in another circle
    Circles are some of my favourite things, AP.

  8. Lovely slow and winding.
    Thanks, Narnie.

  9. Cool, thankyou everybody. Commenters are like rare jewels, invaluable feedback, collaboration by implication and attribution by link, everything is going according to the plan with no plan.

  10. Awesome, you curled the reader up into your words, beautifully told…and I’m loving the changes in your avatar and header photo, beautiful shoreline and vanishing point.
    Thankyou, Harmonie.

  11. Irie, mon! That part about kaleidoscope lenses was very psychedelic
    Paul! Where have you been? Hiding in WOW I bet. Good to see you again, mon.

  12. words uncoil & seep through the fracturing light you have created Paul. so beautiful to leave us sleeping on the park bench.
    Cool, thanks, Graham.

  13. I’ve often found that park benches are the most wonderful places to reflect and ponder on life and its many wondrous mysteries.

    I love the balance of the opening ‘locks which curl through the park bench’, against the closing ‘curl up asleep here on this park bench’.

    Your words have soothed…

  14. I’m always glad to see an older post moved to the frontline… “snake locks which curl/through the park bench” – Mr. Squires, this is an excellent poem. The Paul Squires Top 10 for me, maybe.

  15. I’ve slept on a park bench. For real. Oh the tales I could tell, but of course I won’t. Ever. At the ywca homeless shelter where I lived for a month, a toothless gal named Star had a name for this sort of verse: A flipside to the Beside of the downslide. Well done Squires.

  16. […] a hard life being famous and poor, I tell ya. You don’t want that, son. Anonymous is of course a prerequisite for the artist […]

  17. […] a hard life being famous and poor, I tell ya. You don’t want that, son. Anonymity is of course a prerequisite for the artist since […]

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