Journey of Words

I write as I wonder as I wander.

Christopher L Perry

Journey of Words…latest posts

  • First Bus Out of St Louis

    I am the passengerAnd I cry and I cryI cry through the day’s black sideI see the last bars pour out at fiveYeah, when neon lights the skyYou know when nothing looks rightI am the passengerI’ve emptied my last glassI look into your soul, absence of lightI see the bars kick out at fiveI see… Read more

  • rock, paper

    friendshipcan come from many placesa teacher’s seating plana workplacea regular bus queuea space on a football terraceit outlaststhe jobeducationthe commutethe matchthe seasonnothing will lastso longas friendshipdo not ever confuseyour friendshipwith other thingslike businessor lustor alcoholnothing will lastso wellas friendship~n.b. NaPoWriMo 2025 Day 17 prompt: friendship CLP 17/04/2025 Read more

  • “After hearing another fantastic story from a parallel universe…”

    I zoned outLet’s be honestGames and breadBread and gamesThe streets emptyBar mopeds delivering readied mealsTo houses where TVs fill wallsFill front roomsFill the headsOf green-eyed sofa fansWith logos, slogansAimed at men(don’t give me that…but women like it too…you know its mostly menJust look at the adverts)Watching the laceless orbChased back and forthFrom one night to… Read more

  • blessing in disguise

    I dropped some books off at a charity shop, came out with two CDs, one being the Johnny Cash album American V, A Hundred Highways. Inside that CD case was also American IV, The Man Comes Around. Worth it for the first number alone. CLP 15/04/2025 Read more

  • Prayer

    Oh perpetually pugnacious people of this planetPrepare to make the supposedly impossible possiblePurge all pandering to past prejudicesPurge all previously held political positionsSimply place your person in the predicament of your purported opponentPrepare for peace~n.b. To dream the impossible might just make it possible. This poem is prompted by NaPoWriMo 2025 Day 15 CLP 15/04/2025 Read more

  • Music of The Christmas Tree Monoculture

    There is no birdsong hereThe only light comesIn the precious minutesAt dawn and again at duskWhen the planet’s rotationBrings the Sun to the horizonAnd its beams splay outBeneath the dense conifer spreadWhere the wind orchestratesAn arrhythmic swish and hissOf Norwegian Spruce needlesBroken only by swathes of silenceThis mournful brushingIs relentless as the wavesOn the eastern… Read more