Martin Brady likes your link

Martin Brady likes your link


The internet’s an empty space,
Like any city marketplace
You care to stalk on Sunday, lone,
With saliently silent phone;

Where gazes meet but do not greet,
But glaze, continue on their beat;
Where screams can sound like muffled sighs,
And every breath, once birthed, soon dies.

I am not stupid: though it seems
The size of all my soundest schemes
Amounts to no more than hoping
That some publisher is scoping

Every last dire poetry blog
That willowisps through digifog,
I’m resigned to obscurity.
Not without insecurity;

I’d like data to bait critics
When I check my analytics;
Approval, however disparate,
Helps me feel that bit less desperate.

Once I’ve poured my heart out neatly
Into a template – discreetly
Spellchecked by some robotic ghost –
And swallowed once and then pressed “post”,

The lengthy silence following –
As lengthy as a piece of string –
Recreates that queer sensation:
Dreams spent naked at bus stations.

I am inspired by simple things:
The joy a well-made cuppa brings;
The flight of birds, the sound of trains;
The smell of pavements when it rains.

I don’t ask much and life replies
With frequent shrugs and rolls of eyes;
So when I lose my meanings thus –
So many badgers, so much bus –

Sighing, gathering my jacket;
Just when I feel I can’t hack it,
“Ah! Things aren’t so bad,” I think:
“Martin Brady likes my link.”

Appears in:
Mistaken for art or rubbish [2013]


2 thoughts on “Martin Brady likes your link

  1. Pingback: Mistaken for art or rubbish |

  2. Pingback: Poems listed alphabetically |

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *