Tuesday, August 29

Untrue

I'll sit on this tall green hill
and wait for you
I'll stare into the sun
and you'll have no clue

I'll sit on this big brown rock
and look for you
and let the ice and sleet
freeze me blue

I'll stand on the purple water's edge
and search for you
and the ducks will laugh
as they always do

I'll lie on a dusky desert dune
and wish for you
and the sands will swell
and bury us two.






I'D LIKE TO BE UNDER THE SEA,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN IN THE SHADE.

WE WOULD BE WARM,
BELOW THE STORM,
IN OUR LITTLE HIDEAWAY BENEATH THE WAVES.
RESTING OUR HEAD ON THE SEA BED,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN NEAR A CAVE.

WE WOULD SING AND DANCE AROUND
BECAUSE WE KNOW WE CAN'T BE FOUND.

WE WOULD SHOUT AND SWIM ABOUT
THE CORAL THAT LIES BENEATH THE WAVES.
(Lies beneath the ocean waves)
OH, WHAT JOY (ah) FOR EV'RY GIRL AND BOY
KNOWING WE'RE HAPPY AND THEY'RE SAFE.
(Happy and they're safe)

WE WOULD BE SO HAPPY YOU AND ME;
NO ONE THERE TO TELL US WHAT TO DO.

I'D LIKE TO BE UNDER THE SEA,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN WITH YOU


(Ringo Starr)

Thursday, August 24

Yes

How did you know?

That you could just speak softly, and it would
slice my mind into shreds that cannot see each other;
and the bits would float here and there and
collide in confusion even as they remain
warmly cocooned in that soft silk handkerchief
that your words weave so gently.

And everything you say is just
the whipped cream on a warm rich coffee cup
which lies on your desk four thousand miles away.

So how is it that I wake up with the dark heady fragrance
that lies beneath and threatens the core that rules?

The knotted knuckles, the open palm, the fiercely tender grip
of waiting arms and the raging head
inclined just enough to rest lightly on mine as I
press my cheek to yours... craving its strange dark sweetness.

You didn't say what I thought you would.
You didn't do what I thought you might.
You just stayed awake and kept me afloat all through the stormy ride.
Chased me when I hid, teased me when I froze,
laughed when I ranted and cried with me in silent confusion

And oh we played, like no two people ever had.
Like no two people ever will.

Cut

Retake

You didn't know
That I could be who you
wanted me to

and that with every tender word I cut a piece of you
and preserve it till the salt and vinegar
sting you into cosy shades of purple
and you look in the mirror and smile
at the stranger you live with now
pink with pleasure cradled
in casual clever crimson

As you soak deeper into the jar of honey
with invisible inches of the inflammable
pasts we'd both forgotten

and the futures that we willingly burn
for one smoke filled night.

Saturday, August 19

Fission

The sun forgot to set today.

It hadn't set an alarm. The blackberry packed up.

It continued on auto pilot without a thought
for the moon

that kept waiting, waiting.

----


Lightning struck

Ashes of roses
all over cream satin

Thunder stood by
the rain held its own

Clouds applauded
As the stars undressed her

----

Edgy icicles
Shattered snow

Rosewood hours
Stark and slow

Fire and water
Friend and foe

Your time is up
with miles to go

------


The chocolate woods
Didn't blink

Soot ablaze
Castrated cold

He clothed himself
bit by bit
with dying embers

of the phantom storm


A rusty road raced by

Pale pink
Placid pucker

An army of ants
A lone gray sky

watched


them break.

Tuesday, August 15

Carpe Diem

Apple green tea. Not green apple tea.
The difference is more than subtle.
Like the morning before and the morning after.

A cigarette lit and one unlit.
Promise of another day or just today?

Pencils sharpened for a math exam
Pencils blunted to sketch the shadows in her eyes

A jug of cream or a dash of caviar
Leg of lamb or touch of terrine

A shot of Remy Martin Louis XIII
A pitcher of Heineken

Racing head, hollow heart
Empty safe
Brand new start

-----------------------------------

He was old
He was smart
She was bold
Yet just a tart

He was a bore
She wanted more
She's the whore
He proudly wore

They kissed all night
No love no fight
She milked him dry
He loved to cry

-----------------------------------

The clouds are turnin' crimson
The leaves fall from the limbs an'
The branches cast their shadows over stone
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?

The boulevards of cypress trees
The masquerades of birds and bees
The petals, pink and white, the wind has blown
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?

My pulse is runnin' through my palm
The sharp hills are rising from
The yellow fields with twisted oaks that groan
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?

(Bob Dylan- Moonlight)

Saturday, August 12

In the Flesh

Stench of burning flesh
Bloody innards
Slashed inside out

Delicate lacerations
Carefully executed
Controlled frenzy

living art
On display for a few hours only

Skip dinner
Feast your eyes
And mind

While it still breathes
Through fevered eyes
And a choked gullet
Croaking silently
for release

Oblivion won't come easy
You're on camera honey
Every ounce
of well earned pain
Gifted with razor sharp
tenderness...


And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.

And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I want you to know who I am

(Iris- the Goo Goo dolls)

Thursday, August 10

Bridge too Far

You don't know me
you never will.

I'm far away
And I did
try
to let you be
That perfect person
for a while
To melt
gently into
that rush of
blood
And muck
that's me.

I won't
feel you
anymore
I can't
even remember
how I did

And I am
invisibly
distilled
in your laundry
bag
And you
are nowhere
at all

My eyes
are gleaming
As I lean over
your still shadow
Waiting
for me to
miss you
as I do not
kiss
the mess
that no longer
Sleeps
on my pouting
pillow

Waft your way
across
tomorrow
will you?
While I
hover here
in your darkling
den
when
waves sleep
silently
In another world
that knew no storm
or even a quiet
hello
Whispered
from the other end of a life
I never had

And you
did
not

No
know

Yes
guess
less...

Save it
for when
We won't need bridges
to get there
get here
get near

Crushed ice
warming
Footsteps forming
as the sea
pulls away

Mayday


Over and out.

Did you hear that?

Tuesday, August 8

Guilty

Guilty as hell
he could tell
She was squirming

Guilty as hell
she knew him well
He was worming

his way out

of the creepy
little molehill
he loved to curl up in

keep mum
play dumb

its time .

No more
Gin and lime

just tonic

In its bleak bitter clarity
prick you back
into precious
piquant reality

Hate it as you do
still sticks like glue
to singed fingertips

still tingling
from that tender touch

even now
just one guilty footfall away.

Friday, August 4

Escape

He understood. She didn't. She never would. She didn't even try. Every time he tried to hold her hand and tell her
the truth, and nothing but the truth- she smiled and nodded.
Vacant pretense of comprehension, where there was no hope.
Just the surety of habit. That enmeshed itself in the grain of his torn button, his bed linen and bath mirror. Even the damned toothbrush told him to give up.

He had thought about it. Waited. Tried every trick in the book.
He deliberately left the little love notes in his pocket. He knew she did the laundry with gusto. Unrolled the sleeves of his lipstick stained shirt. Discarded the soiled underwear. She missed nothing.

She played on. Living in her cosy cocoon.
Willing suspension of disbelief?
She preferred to think it was merely poetic license.
Nothing to do with her carefully constructed reality.
Golf balls strayed into the rough sometimes. They always got them back though. She and he. Like the wine corks they stored when others chucked them routinely into the garbage bag.

Little tricks in the kitchen. Neighbours over for dinner. Freshly laundered handkerchiefs.Two signatures on a mortgage.
It was easy to be there. Everyday. The very same way.
Everyone knew it was the right thing to do.
Christmas dinner at the in-laws'.
Wrapping gifts for nephews. Hospital visits to mum.

He would be home soon. Roast beef dinner. His favourite dessert too- keylime pie. Sharp. Designed to obscure the bitter aftertaste of that expensive Syrah she'd been saving for months.
A few drops would do it. She had done her homework. All those crime novels he thought she never read. He'd been getting weaker for months. He thought it was stress. She just fed him like a fattening sheep for the slaughter.

They would exchange titbits across the table. Like always.
She could sleepwalk through the part and still get it right.
He liked watching the shadows on the pale cream curtain as he recounted the day's unremarkable events. Her expression wouldn't change.
The comfort of years was like a familiar crick in the neck. She handled it with care, so as never to dislodge it.
Just like he handled the dishes which would smell clean and fresh after, leaving no hint of the shortlived joy of a tasty meal not so long ago. He hated doing the dishes. Washing away a secret life more real than his own. It felt like cheating.

Coming home was too, wasn't it? And yet, it was home.

...........


He knew it was time. He couldn't take the strain anymore.

It must be today.
He had the papers... and the flowers to soften the blow.
Everything would be hers. The price of precious freedom.

He rang the doorbell.

No one answered. His brow twitched in irritation. She was always prompt. Was she ill? Or had some timely premonition penetrated that steel calm? He fished out his key, walked in and turned on the light.

He was alone.

There was a note by the bottle of wine and the green slice of pie.
He grimaced, sank down on the sofa and sighed noiselessly.
The right mood for some Chopin. The nocturnes.
He could finally drink in peace. And sleep. Long and hard.

Outside, the storm broke, in all its fiery beauty.
The shadows on the curtain faded. The wine drew its last breath.

A lone clink of crystal crashed into oblivion on the quiet floor.

He never saw her again.


And she was still smiling.

Tuesday, August 1

Mon tag (monday? my day ? just a tag...)

Tags in the air, and bits of music float through on a sultry breeze as I try to say what I don't want to say.


I am

I said
to no one there
and no one heard
not even the chair
(Neil Diamond)


I dance

in the moonlight
after a scathing fight


I sing

for my supper when I can't eat


I cry

with the wolves in the waking dawn


I am not always

who I am


I make with my hands

what I can't with my head


I write

like a spider crawling over a page


I confuse

the stars with the earth

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

Much said.

That song again , that won't let me go.
Bless the Beatles.


I am thinking about

reading your mind

She's not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do- oh yea!


I said

try me

She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane



I want to

clobber

The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots


I wish

he wasn't

Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime


I hear

he did the unthinkable

A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust


I need

a fix 'cause I'm going down
Down to the bits that I left uptown



I regret

Mother Superior jumped the gun


I wonder

if

Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, momma


and finally

When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm

Because happiness is a warm gun
-Yes it is.

Happiness is a warm, yes it is...


tag if you will, tag if you wont
you say you do, you say you don't.


And now that I've bared my soul- you know why this blog is called what it is!