Saturday, April 29

Beauty

"Beauty is fear...we quiver before it"

Take it in your hands and look at it. Deep into it. What do you see?

Something you love or something you wouldn't dare to love?
Something you hate or something you would like to hate?
Something you remember that could never be yours?
Something you destroyed but which never went away?

Something you cherish yet hold in contempt?
Something you need and yet fear to lose most?
Something you want but cannot see?
Something you see but cannot touch?

None of the above.

The light in a child's eyes.
The first snow that embraces a tired world.
The first rose petal you stroked, the first wet grass you smelt.
Sunrise on a dreaming sea, sunset painted across the sky.
The dogeared diary you hide, a stranger's smile,
the first person who inspired poetry in you....

None of the above?

The gnarled piece of driftwood afloat on a rushing rapid,
the dark shapes of the wizened walls of a lost cave,
the red red eyes of the devil you see in your dreams,
the stinging pain of that first love bite,
the howling hyena that gave you goosebumps,
the faceless shadows that whisper to you,
the hungry flames that lick the forest,
the long curling crack in a smooth white wall,
the smoky shapes floating off that killer fag,
a heroin high, the horror of an insane black night,
climbing to the top of your favourite mountain-looking down
knowing who you are, who you can be..

All of the above?

You choose.

Thursday, April 27

Cracklin rose

Tall tough woman
In slender white
Dark lined eyes
With a twinkling bite!

Now a lady, now a child
Now a tramp, deliciously wild...

Painting pictures
Sharp and bright,
Yet soft and warm
All shade and light.

Cooks like an artist
Chirps like a bird
Loves like the ocean
The sky has stirred.

Cries like a baby
Laughs like the stars
Leads her own life
No holds barred.

Smokes like an angel
Dreams like a child
Fears with a passion
Dances like wild.

Books on her bedspread
Music galore
Candles and colour
Magic in store!

Tough as a tiger
Wading through storms
Cherishing yet
A heart that warms.

Here's the birthday toast
With some great lamb roast
For a friend in a billion
(and do make a million)

Live it your way
Have a stupendous day
Keep rockin and rollin and smilin away!

(for one of the strongest, most beautiful people I know)

Wednesday, April 26

Spring, or something like it

So it's that time of year and everyone's writing about it.

My own attempt to do so is usually dogged by pointless petulance, detachment, ennui or simply a half amused scepticism.(Now beat me up all you spring sunshine suckers!)

There are no daffodils or tulips here nodding cheerfully, changing colour, welcoming a summer to look forward to.Its largely grey, warm and humid with a sinuous mist forming layers above the green - making it harder to live and breathe the fabled freshness of the season.

The darkness tonight is being washed away by a steel cold rain. A dominant all-consuming lightning in its fiery beauty, is threatening to engulf an ordinary night; expose every piece of material mundaneness it tries so cleverly to hide. The world shakes like a small ugly being- too insignificant to matter, peeping from behind a fraying curtain of casual complacence. The thunder is howling in laughter at the precocious child staring back defiantly, its body taut with fear.

The hours go by.

Nothing remains the same...

As the rain sweeps down determinedly, the lights in the distance start to swim slowly through the newness. And I could see them, really see them - in their wet tentative guise like the beautiful strangers that reflect off the now unfathomably ecstatic, copiously weeping windows.

Its morning now, and is this then perhaps... spring?

Tuesday, April 25

Looking

Looking In

It winked and curled up.
Mischief on the mind.
It squealed and rolled up
If you dared to be kind.

It laughed and whirled round
Teetering on tiptoe
It hugged the warm ground
And teased you real slow.

Spat fire and got high
Stepped near and let fly
Feasted on fresh lies

As you gazed, you gazed

Into expressionless eyes..


Looking out


It crept out, slowly, surely
Still a hint of fear
It leapt at you now squarely
And pulled you gently near.

You're its tall strong tree
You're its need to be free
You're its bird in the sky
You're its reason to fly.

It tumbles in your arms
It ferrets out your charms
Your the window in its heart

As it looks and looks

Still looking

Into the wet wet world in your eyes.

Sunday, April 23

Song sung blue

Wrecked again
by a song

Only a song.

That means little to you
and even less to me

And were it not for that
strange bundle of images
That come swimming in

And that line
Which even now
makes me skip a heartbeat

I could trash it
as just another clever cliche
Designed to make us cry
crocodile tears

For no one

Still playing
somewhere in the recesses
of my shattered psyche

Waiting to be scooped out
With the serrated edge of
a bread knife
Blunted with telltale softness
of everyday breakfast

And if I served my gut up
For tea

Would you buy it?

Would you have your fill
And leave the hard edges behind
on that brave silver platter
Which you worked so hard to shine?

And even though the song remains the same
yet again
Can you drown it
in a cold new rain

That can then beat down forever
forever

forever

forever

forever


or never?

Friday, April 21

Laughing eyes

Saw him strolling down the street
New orange shoes on crooked feet
Strong steady gait
No frills, no fuss
Glance at his watch
As he runs for the bus.

Saw him at the park
Writing songs in the dark
Training for a run
Waiting for the sun.

Saw him at the coffee shop
Bright eyes looking out
Watching a crazy world
Bustle about.

Saw him at work
By a solitary light
Careful and quick
Every detail just right.

Saw him in the kitchen too
Cooking up a storm
Saw him with his duvet
Snuggling up warm.

Saw him in the morn
Clicking pictures of the dawn
A lean lone star
With an invisible scar.

Saw him in my mind's eye
Toothbrush in hand
Juggling friends and strangers
In a faraway land.

Now see him at the store
Pausing at the door
Turning back to catch my eye
Or perhaps a hint of more?

Laughing eyes

Yes, laughing eyes

That held in them
The blue blue skies

Yes, laughing eyes

Those laughing eyes
Should never never know goodbyes.


Note: will do a series on friends going forward...this one is for a friend who sets the kitchen on fire!

Wednesday, April 19

Stub it out - there

Yes, it was an ordinary day. An unusually productive morning too.
The sun streamed in happily, weaving a natty print on the room's moist skin, illuminating all that had been hidden so long. The fresh morning air skipped cheerfully around the corners and took her by the hand. Oh how she loved a playmate!

She kept him close... that skipping young devil as the morning took off for its well deserved siesta. Afternoon rolled in softly, smiling as it lulled her into a familiar dream. Still playing, but a little tired now, she blinked away those dark spots dancing a distracting jig to that piece of music she found increasingly discordant. The day got slower and the walls looked whiter as the light changed outside. Something was trying to creep in through a crack on the window pane. She barely noticed it. Grey haze. A dog howling in a silent street. Hushed voices speaking wordlessly. All too familiar.

The game was getting tougher. It demanded more energy than the cheese and crackers nibbled hours ago, would allow. The skipping was getting mesmeric and the swish of the rope started sending shivers down her spine. It moved furiously now and she knew if she moved an inch closer it would whip off a patch of her. Like a smarting tequila shot.
Tempted now, she leaned forward, through the open window.

She barely had time to notice the storm which was breaking. She had known it would come just like she knew it would leave, when it had worn itself out. The chill grabbed her first as she ran for cover. Fire, she needed fire. Any warmth would do.
Perhaps her playmate would understand. Help her find some. Perhaps skipping was the wrong game. Should she try something new?

The storm broke in spectacular rage. She gazed into its bloodshot eyes and found to her surprise that they didn't scare her. Thin sharp streaks of red sparked around the room. She was cold no more.
The game is afoot, the players are here, the music chimes a welcome flourish. The walls were dancing , the floorboards clapping, the pictures screaming in excitement as they surrendered to the frenzy of a furious night. The rain was yet to come, and play was still on- only no smiles now. The darkness brooded in its stony silence and froze the rope.

The hours gone by blurred into each other as she fumbled for a light trying not to trip over that inert rope which kept flashing through her mind still. She couldn't see ahead, not even a yard. She lay back exhausted calling to the playmate, wishing she could hear that swishing rope again.

And as a grudging moon pulled its feet off the armchair and nodded down at her, all she could see in that soft slurred light was a deep dark patch of painful ash on baby skin. Scarred, scorched,beautiful baby skin that glared back in muted fear.

A delicately etched prophecy too startling for tears.

And now,
The skipping had stopped for good.

Monday, April 17

Loser takes all

Drop the blinds.Seal the shutters.
Bolt the door.

Don't let them in. Don't melt.
No matter what.

Even if they scream for help,
Cry wildly only for you.

Close your eyes, shut your ears, smile fiercely
and think of tulips.

In a long green field that rolls ahead
To exactly where you want it to be.

.....................................

Pick up your file
Make your notes
Put the baby to sleep
Finish your tea.

Now brush your teeth
Turn off the lights
And sink into
A deep dreamless sleep.

......................................

Hey, smile
They're still knocking
Just like you wanted them to.


And isn't it a fantastic feeling to have won the fight without even trying?

I bow before thy strength, my lord, my master

And shall fetch you coffee hereafter.

Saturday, April 15

Salvation?

I've found it.

The perfect spot to down my cup of solitude in secluded bliss.
The perfect time to feel like a prince.
The perfect moment to smile at my shadow and call it mine.

After all the searching, all the angst, all the confusion... here it is.

my slice of sky
my chance to fly
my own box of treasure
to cherish at leisure

The perfect dream to chase
The precious laughter on that face

The perfect piece of sunshine
Right here with its arms open wide.

The perfect place to hide.

Wake up.
Your dreaming.
The world is exactly where it was -
So are you.

And the colour is imperceptible.

Take it or leave

I love it when you fight me
I love it when you bite
I love it when you hate me
And it happens every night.

I hate it when you touch me
I hate it when you cry
I hate it when you tell me
You will never ever lie.

Will love it if you burn me
Will hate it if you don't
Will love it if you throw me out
So please don't say you won't.


So I'm waiting here
For one good kick
Love it, hate it
Take your pick!

Thursday, April 13

Years from now

Because you are no one
And you are here
Like a waking dream
Alive in my head

Because that soft smile
reflecting your eyes
Is gentle as the night time
cushioning the stars

Reaching for
and calming the fever
That I fear would drive you away

And what can I do for you
that you might know
I would not ask of you
that which I need the most
And that you
do not have to save me

As your heart gently
pushes me away
with a watchful eye
Lest I fall

And it is just another
moment to cherish
and cry for
and never seek again

Can it stay this way
or will it fade
And when we meet again
like friends or strangers

We can hold hands
and know

that we were holding hands
for all these years

(for my friend with soft hands)

A few words

A few words
Strung together
To make it all real
Spoken as only he could

A voice like
the seas calling to you
drifting over the edge of waves

And that feeling
that she knows
I need not explain

Relief and pain
one and the same
Surging through me

And the stars smile

They know I'm coming back
And it will never be
the same again.

For you

Just a touch of me
In your eyes
Your hair
In the air
around you

Blood rushing through your veins
Looking out over the lighthouses
That seem more real
Just as she sits
there beside you
On a slope of grass
Drinking in the sea and night air

That chills her for fear of losing you

And you know that this is you
And all you say
And all you hear
Is a shadow
Of just that touch of you
In her hair
Her face

And her eyes...

Wednesday, April 12

24 more...

And the storm came riding down on high,
In its sequinned plume of thunder.
A mighty lightening froze the sky,
As it spewed venom down under.

Nobody knew just what to think,
They had no time to wonder
They just watched it hit and howl
And tear the world asunder.

I was going to write prose. Don't know what happened, but here goes...

Its dusk here. That state of limbo we all love to write about.
I'm sitting in the shadows as the darkness hovers just beyond the grey,ignoring the lights on the other side of the harbour which seem so far away.

I would whisper to you now on the side of a hill, under a dark green tree on a night with no moon, as time stands still.

And no matter how hard I try, I still cannot hear you, or even hear myself, although the wind is deathly silent tonight.

The best I can do, is listen to them.
As they murmur that its time to leave.
Time to listen to the gods who sit on judgement up above.
Time to say hello to that stranger you're afraid of.
Time to grasp the beauty of the storm in your open arms and realise with a start, that its going to be a beautiful night.

And the best is yet to come.

Monday, April 10

The next 24..

Its the kind of day when you know things will go right.
You feel it in your bones.

You do everything right.
Tea brewed at just the right temperature. Brownies baked to perfection.
Deadlines met, and emails sent, with enough time leftover to browse the newspaper, and catch the new season of CSI Miami on telly.
No unforeseen phone calls to disrupt a long bubble bath with a glass of wine. Even the fog outside took a break and let the lights on the harbour shine through when I stepped out on the balcony for a relaxed smoke.

Its the kind of night when you know things will go wrong.
You don't feel, you just know. What triggers it of course, you don't.

Random thoughts play in your head and you're glad you can still think!

Is that silence buzzing in my ears or some platelets running late for work?
How many seconds before fingers grow too cold to type and how many minutes before the couch groans in protest at its shivering weight? Why were the chocolates sour? Were they grapes in disguise or simply my bruised tongue?

See the walls stand white and still and how pretty those shadows look- all edge, no colour. Devouring dragons melting before myopic eyes and a fractured mind. Always loved animal-shaped shadows formed with clever fingers.
Dragons don't scare me. Other things do.

Too much coffee or too little?
Did someone poison my wine just a tad, or are the demons here for a party again? Burn some incense- perhaps they'll go away.
Light a candle and watch the blue core of a flickering flame.

Steady now, thats your whole life... so focus and let the rest melt away.

Wish I was a dewdrop- fresh, sparkling, wet with life, reflecting every colour around, resting on a bed of green. Waiting to be swept off its feet by a warm lusting sun.

I never read a book twice over, so why the deja vu tonight?
Am I reliving this same life? Or those from another world, another time, when they still had wars and ghosts and darkness, and words hurt more than swords? And today as I sit before this square of light, I'm wondering, would clicking a trigger hurt less than that click which tells you 'inbox 0'?

Should I wait for the birds to start chirping and the black sky to turn midnight blue? Will it be another perfect day?
If so, perhaps its worth waiting for.

And in the meanwhile, time for some black magic.

The real stuff.

As the naked night closes in on me.

Friday, April 7

The owl and the pussycat (remixed)

<
Illustrated by Donna L. Derstine (1959 - )


I

The owl and the pussycat met at dawn
In a city by the sea
They went for a stroll, looking oh so droll
Holding hands as lovers should be.

The owl looked up to the sun above
And said, could we step indoors?
I’ll sing you a song you’ve never heard
Feed you bread and cheese and more.

And more
And more

Not bread and cheese, but more.

II

Pussy said to the owl, you delicate fowl
What a sweet clever way to ask
Oh let us then kiss, in cool shady bliss
And down the beer from the cask.

They rode the waves for a night and a day
In a land where the honey tree grows
Just the stars above, watched them sweetly make love
Till a wicked sun arose.

It rose
It rose

The wicked sun rose and all the passion froze.


III

Said the owl to the pussy
You scheming hussy,why didn’t I see it before
And pussy just smiled and let him go wild
As they kicked and screamed some more.

And the very next day, they both ran away
And vowed they would meet again soon
When they were lonely, and perhaps if only

To dance by the light of the moon

The moon
The moon

Just to dance by the light of the moon.

<
Courtesy of Home Office Mall

Notes: I like stories which don't end, and as for poems I rarely figure out if they do... like the original below
...and did they live happily ever after?


The Owl and the Pussycat
- 1871 - by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey,
and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married;
too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Wednesday, April 5

She loves me, She loves me not

Well since the last one didn't quite work out, here's my second shot at love poetry!

I've been pondering
On this deep deep thought
Did she love me
Or did she not?

I knew that she knew
My mind was askew
My heart in a stew
My assets so few.

Nevertheless
She did pretend
She would bend
A few precious inches
To accommodate my hinges!

And try to ignore
What was clearly an eyesore.

And she tried so hard
To treat me right
Tell me I was her shining knight.

And I raised an eyebrow
And breathlessly said 'wow'

Would you really
make my dreams come true
Let me have my cake
and eat it too?

I tell you, by jove , she loved me
No matter how much she craved to be free.

She loved me
Like a little bumblebee
Making honey

Stinging like hell
Yet wishing me well.

Oh yes, she loved me
Even as she trashed me.

Made me feel like a king
In that magic golden ring.

'Twas 'nough for me
A warm playful buddy
('buddy' I said, not 'body')

'Twas perfect
When she left.

'Cos I'm an old man
Humbly profess, an 'also ran'.

To rock the boat,
Gets my goat.

And after all
I just needed to see
Whether or not
She loved me.

And all I have to do
Is believe its true

Long after she flew,
Keep believing
its true.

She loved me

Yes she loved me

Just like she loved you.

Loved every last one of you.

Tuesday, April 4

blood on my hands

I'm going to kill.

Tomorrow perhaps
Or the day after.

And it won't be simple.
Oh no it won't!
Don't fool yourself
Because I don't.

It won't be the usual way
Like a quick and easy lay
That you get out of the way
Like just another day.

This one will be tough
Nerve wracking and rough
Long, painful and slow,
Little did you know
I wouldn't let you go.

Will twist the jagged edge
Putrid pungent steel
Slicing bit by bit
What can never heal.

Watch calmly as you burn
Teaching you to learn
What you'll never live to be
What your screaming now to see.

As your insides spill out...red
Fear roaring in your head
It never hurts, you'd said
Now it will,
...long before your dead.


So stop me if you can
Try and be a man
But your brain will let you down
Even as you drown.

That brain you so cherish
Will stand by as you perish
Turn its back and wait
Too scared to fight the hate.

As I dig it deeper still,
Need to have my fill.
And I sip a glass of wine
And know it will be fine.

As I leave you now,
I leave you,
To rot and writhe and whine.

Sorry baby
It was your blood or mine.

Monday, April 3

Here

Am I thinking?

Again?

Am I?

No, I'm just here.
Like I always was.

Like a limerick
Never written.

Like an apple
Never bitten.

Like a ghost
Never smitten.


And after every war
When I asked for more

After every hug
The hole I dug

To bury myself


After every cry
When I tried to die

Bricks and stone
Skull and bone

Left me here alone.


So

Do you ever think
I might be on the brink

Do you ever


See me as I am?
Even try to give a damn?

Do you?

And

Can you see me now?
Can you ask me how

I'm still here?


Will you fight yourself
Will you fight me

Will you

to be here too?