Blank

Bang Bang
He shot me down

Kill Bill
Kill Jill

Kiss Miss
Kiss this

Can't do it

Can't scream
Can't dream

Can't fight
Can't write

Can't even bite

Shadows can't fear
The remains of the day
They hold the night
In sway

Dodge the moon
Its way too soon
For the light
To blight

the balmy blue blankness

Here

Steel grey dawn
Stone cold panic
A saturated
single
Silence

White curtain stillness
Weight
Wait
Warning
Mindless morning

My winter.

Just walk on by

caught a bird watching me from its cage
strange look in its eye

caught a baby staring at me wide eyed
how would I ever fathom that?

caught myself scowling at nothing in particular
no psychoanalysis required

it must be my teeth
my hair, my nose
my mind

definately not my shoes

look back

that wasn't me

just lines in my head

"it was just some jesus looking for a manger?"

Cohen's in a cocoon

"it ain't me babe, it ain't me your looking for.."

damned right Dylan

lets all eat popcorn instead.


Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable and life's like an hourglass glued to the table,
No one can find the rewind button girl
So cradle your head in your hands.
And breathe, just breathe, ooh breathe just breathe

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year
Here in town you can tell he's been down for while
But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him, maybe I'll just sing about it

2Am and I'm still awake writing a song
If I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me threaten' the life it belongs to.

Breathe 2am...Anna Nalick

before sunset

It was a beautiful day. Almost unreal in its clarity, colour and calmness.
Even smoking a cigarette felt like blasphemy lest it clouded the crispness and cool that had seized the air...and the light, oh the light like never before.

The blinds had been lifted.
The chores done. Lawn mowed to perfection. Oven scraped off the last remnants of burnt cookies. Every crease ironed out on the bedspread. Glasses spanking clean.

The fantasy was real.
Just me in here with everything I needed to feel good. And whole. And safe.
A ton of books, a breathing cactus and a stack of carefully picked movies. Even a bird chirping here and there and a cupboard full of my favourite CDs.

Time to browse my travel pictures or dabble with the oil on canvas I'd been planning so long.

All at my own time. Undisturbed. Unfettered.

No, I don't feel like talking. (can you stay out of my hair, please?)
No I don't remember being mean or particularly care how you feel (I need my space!)
If you think I'm a bitch thats your problem (feels good to be one occasionally :P)
I have other things on my mind (my life is a priority, you take care of yours)

I just want to be

Too early for a glass of wine. Some blueberry yoghurt would do nicely instead.
A brisk walk perhaps to spot some flowers.
This is my island.

The phone shall stay off the hook and the computer logged off.
No scope for frowns. No need for fixes.

I've always hated company and boredom. One and the same aren't they?

love makes me sick
friendship exhausts me
wants make me weak
hate haunts me

Lets dump the cliches for a while.

Wisdom and worship confound me. Now that could make for a novel! I'm getting there...

At a basic level, for me, anger stems from injustice, fear from emotion. Both depress me.

So I've packed the fragile soul in a paper cup and poured coffee into it.
Lukewarm coffee, that keeps me passive and plain.

I finally decided to be happy and ordinary.
I always thought I was the latter and never the former.
they always thought the reverse.
now I'm confused.

you say I'm neither
even in brief soporific moments
"Id rather be a hammer than a nail.."

if I could be halfway on each perhaps, that might do the trick

No more mindgames. Lets keep it simple.

eat when your hungry, sleep when your sad.
paint when your happy. run when your bad.

Nothing really matters. You believe that?
And if nothing matters- what is the point of it all?

Light fading. Chill descending.
Warm lamplit corner. Cosy sofa.

Good old christmas tree outside window catches my eye.
Awkward and rather forlorn I'd say, like it wants to come in but wouldn't intrude.
Must be cold or shy, or both.
It's not your time yet baby. Hang loose.
I did want you in my garden but not past the threshold.

Stop staring like that!

Would a box of tissues suffice?
Sentiment kills me. Do you see any photos on the wall?

back to my crossword puzzle
pondering

is bad for health
good for the mind?

hey tree- get a life
they'll all want you when its christmas

and then again when hell freezes over
peek in the mirror (I love my evil grin)

who said losers can't win?

sometimes

Sometimes its the end of the world
and sometimes its not

Sometimes you remember
What you thought you forgot

Sometimes the ogres
Are waiting to pounce
Sometimes the fairies
Grant you an ounce

Sometimes the treasure
Is a doorbell away
Sometimes the pleasure
Is here to stay

Sometimes the cracks
are gaping wide
Sometimes the fire
Is swept aside

and yet the leaves just smoulder
for every rock and boulder
you carry on your shoulder

as the weight just pulls you under
and all you hear is thunder
and the forest splits asunder
and the trees can't help but wonder

why you walked this way at all

perhaps it was to burn, laugh, play
with colours of the fall?

Meeaow

eenie meenie mynee mo
who came knocking at the door?

wide eyed froggy wet and sore
long faced doggie, cat eyed whore

chill eyed baby wanting more

wanting wanting
ranting panting
needing bleeding
seething

weaving flowers
white and gold
counting sundrops
new and old

freshly frozen flowers blooming
winking moon and thunder looming
crickets buttercups
cherries cherubs

filtered brew
and cosy blue
on scattered sunday morning

whats your name
and whats your game

and where's my fifty days of fame?

you lost the plot
I ploughed the rot

you tossed a stone
I chewed the bone

can smell the cookies burning

lets catch some fish
or break a dish
and make the morning special
lets crack some eggs
and black some beans
and wrap our legs around us

the jam is gone
the evening long
i sang a song
that all went wrong

the lamb is here
never fear
dancing's on
the fever's gone

:D

Filter your coffee

This has got to die

yes

with one lip curled upwards
and eyes piercing the empty air
green lasers
shooting down
me

you're a hero
smashing every piece
of fine china
delicate to the bone

and cradling
your cuddly crocodile
close

and just smiling
to yourself
at the world
weaving its faithless
tricks
in blind fervour

such a pretty pink

and the water runs dry

what a great book

and the phone lines break

delightful meal

and the chill settles

and the inexorable distance

builds space

interminable waiting

creates calm

leashed longing

leans lazily

on a bed of indifference

and a pair of cool white teeth

beneath the grimace

conjure a confused

chuckle

thou shalt be thine own worse enemy

if thee cannot be thine own best friend

still thinking

this has got to live?

Shrug

You are lying and you don't know it

You want to be who you are not

You can't be where you don't want to be

I'm walking backwards

to where I never wanted to be


I'm racing forward

hoping for a crash

phonecalls drown the fire alarm

and save it for a rainy day

money buys toys

and a night at the bar

sleep buys oblivion

and anger destruction

the brain watches silently

as thoughts provoke

stifling seizures

shutting you down

in the middle of a mediocre

workday


the rainbow is actually black

and if that's your favourite colour

you may as well chase it

and the pot of gold

is the jewellery

you never wear

so how about

hugging a tree

or scraping the dirt

for that rock

which inspires you?


Indifference is not comfort

Passion is not postponable

Dead birds don't fly

no matter when you knock

there's no reply

It's time

sometimes

you don't have to wait

for the sky to fall on your head
for the dust to be cleaned out
for the chores to be complete

no epiphany
no haze either
it's simple enough
because it can't wait

what is done is done

even eked out
in the name of practicality
consideration
procrastination
for someone else's cause

rock hard
strewn by the wayside
as regular as a life
could be

tomorrow today yesterday
still creeping
whispering
"what about them"
and this
and that
and all the
baggage???

I have all of me that I need
right now
right here

no clock
no rainbow
no messing around

the desert is beautiful
the sand unmarked
the heat unbearable
and the distance
unfathomable

as of now
I cannot speak
or hear
but I can see

high resolution
anti aliased
untenable?

I will not move

But I will not
turn back


they say

when it's time
you will know


They were right.

Candles for Virginia

Mild misty morning
Touch of grey
Mythic peace
A mood building

Lazy stirring
under fateful bedspreads
Coffee and chatter
In the hallways

Class as usual
Smile as usual
Shrug as usual
Pain as usual

Walls awash with fear
Anger in a box
Smashing through
In Automatic black

Just another morning
for a stone facade
and bare trees
and death foretold

the green lawns were never there
It's still winter

For him
For us
It always will be.

Tweedling

Tweedledum: so that's what you think of me. A grasping insensitive loser
Tweedledee: how dare you- misunderstand again!
T'dum: and you're a nagging nuisance -
T'dee: after everything I did which you didn't even notice
T'dum: I didn't ask you to
T'dee: it was all for you and even then I knew it would come to this
T'dum: when did I say anything was wrong
T'dee: right, it's always me. throw it back
T'dum:I'm going to bed
T'dee:I'm off
T 'dum:zzzzz
T'dee: boo hoo
T'dum: mmmmm
T'dee: this time you really did spoil my nice new rattle

Tweedledum and Tweedledee
Agreed to have a battle!
For Tweedledum said Tweedledee
Had spoiled his nice new rattle.

Just then flew down a monstrous crow,
As black as a tar-barrel!
Which frightened both the heroes so,
They quite forgot their quarrel.'

(Lewis Carroll)

The picture in my head

its rosebud time
a brilliant red
on silent snow
fresh white bed

ice maiden mirrored
kay and gerda
ditsy dwarves

by the pricking of my thumbs...

fairy tales
every day of our lives
from that ruined castle
up on high
to that lost city
oceans deep
hiding wet wild treasure

caught out for a magic moment
by a lone sunray
that shot right through the waves

deep

into a world we never knew
was there for us

a slow bloom
apricot hues
turning to rich purple
time and tide
they say..

like the bruise on your knee
which is now
but a memory

like the princess
and her pop up book
every page
a new smile

the frog, the pea and the beanstalk
were all green
a nightingale
a scheming queen

the beast heads up the pack
the beast is finally back
the beast will find the crack

but the prince
the pretty prince
that precious petty prince

oh yes, the prince
the prince will paint it black

9 crimes

tasting what you can't smell

mincing coffee beans with coriander

drinking red colour blind

eating before the kill

beating bubbles that won't burst

dancing to a dead tune

making love to lettuce

lying in bed alone

writing crap
..................................................

elephant

this has got to die
i said this has got to stop
this has got to lie down
with someone else on top
you can keep me pinned
'cause it's easier to tease
but you can't paint
an elephant
quite as good as she ...

(Damien Rice- 9)

more babies

babies are made of thin air
babies are made to scare
babies are made of DNA
that will make you really pay

babies will tickle you
babies will pickle you
drain you of all
savage sanity

they'll eat your mind dry
and watch you fry
in a pool of squalid screams
saying 'try me'

give it a miss
do without the kiss
forget they exist
take it off the list

NOW

while you still can
resist

persist
and all you have
are rotten grits
in a bowl of sour milk
swimming like lost spirits
drained an aeon ago
in a glassfull of ice cubes
that cut your throat to pieces
and killed the eggs you
craved for breakfast

----------------------------
Hello from the gutters of N.Y.C. which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood. Hello from the sewers of N.Y.C. which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of N.Y.C. and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed in the dried blood of the dead that has settled into the cracks...May 30,1977 David Berkowitz ("Son of Sam")

babies

floating in the air
dancing in my mind
swimming inside somewhere
waiting to be made

a clever ruse
a passionate ploy
a hopeful accident
or perhaps
real real......

gone.



our minds pressed and guarded
while our flesh disregarded
the lack of space for the light-hearted
in the boom that beats our drum

and i know i make you cry
i know sometimes you wanna die
but do you really feel alive without me?
if so be free
if not leave him for me
before one of us has
accidental babies
for we are ...

(Damien rice - accidental babies from 9)

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

The Lovers card affirms my alter ego is a port key to a Soul Mate or deal, whose superpower is compatibility in the midst of reconciling dichotomy to interconnect as a whole new entity or 'color.' To be or not to be: at ultimatum or rival tensions mounting, negotiating acceptable trade-offs validates our unique perspectives to reflect what each lacks for a balanced voice of truce. When we're together I'm beside myself, so I concede mutual vested interest, incentive or opportunity to my other half for valued consideration. For only by the power of self-respect in reciprocal vulnerability, need and compassion do 'me and thee consummate we.' The rest is all a dance on the sidelines of Cinderella Pandering or prohibition, or around a Bermuda Triangle of bottom line temptation to cheat by provocation, promiscuity, or shame. But here at the gate of impasse, I still have a choice and my pride..

(My daily tarot or is it carrot??)

Airport angst

Yet another one. Steel bars. Grey blue glass. Long walk to a grey blue sky.
What next?
Have I been here before?
Does that child scream in vain or because he recognised a face in the crowd or a ghost with a snowman grin?
"I'm here to swallow you up- are you ready for the magic?"

Floating through a numb haze of cataclysmic contours- people I believe- waiting, watching, worrying, wincing.
Peeping, leaping, weeping. No surfeit of tears here, or hugs.
Watching from my corner, the world playing itself out in a few square feet of fettered space- that could wrench you away from today- or coerce you back to where you belong?

Vacant eyes searching for no one, soothed by another's skirmish, amused at how simple it all can be. Right here. Everyday.
As lives change, bonds break with uniform montony under the steel beams shining on steadfastly. I would wait here forever and not go out. One iced caramel macchiatto and the memory of others.

Smoke in the cool air, black jacket hug, tired hair, shy eyes only half looking for more than a christmas tree.It's all purple today, like my cosy scarf and blueberry smoothie and my favourite hills at 4am and the picture of your veins by candlelight.

That's why we're here. For the colour. As it changes. As it dies. As it lived.

And when we yearn for it to be born again- it's of a different hue- and yet-
we recognise it and rejoice- though we can't call it our own-
like the snowman that melted- and the child who cried when it was gone.

Beachside dummies

What was all that fuss about smashing pumpkins and blind melon?
You could get a pink pulpy papaya oozing its dubious fragrance and nutrients all across your now baby soft freckled skin rudely red with suntan copiously rubbed on ripe raw breasts by stiff strong fingers and a rough palm you readily chose- reaching for a miracle.

The sea looks beautiful today. Silvery smooth- a colour with no name under a blue blue sky drenched by an insistent yellow sun that casually bejewels it and burns the hapless sand chafing under you flaming feet as you you roar gently, sharp teeth gritted even as those thin thieving lips flash a beer soaked smile which may have been a grimace if not for the bikiniless bod nestled under an inviting orange umbrella just ahead...

Just spotted Daniel Craig hiding with a clandestine coconut cocktail (knew he hated martinis) under a rustic palm dried thatch, coy black striped towel hanging loose over a splash of crimson- (time he got his colours done- a pale peach perhaps to set off the wild weathered muscle) and a couple of covert tattoos thrown in- oh well...time for a dark rum and chilly beef then,need enough fire on my tongue to numb it black - before I use it again.

Jeremy Brett could have lost his nerve here- so many sundried carcasses burning in blissfully abandoned isolation- and your speckled back. Oh yes. Infamously scarred. I'll pass up the fangs, thank you.

Crushed ice in fake crystal, candid canopies calling for candied cunts, catch of the day in a cool coffer of cannabis, crab legs cushioned on a crackling grill, cloying canteloupe, cold cream on cracked contours, casting coy glances at cleavage and curves and clever cameras (clicking clouds?)
All the comfortable cliches you came here to find.

Blonde, black, brown ,beige, baffled, bemused, blistered, beautiful people- chasing a day with no thought, no chores, no ego- waiting for a glimpse of nirvana on an imagined shore busier than their lamplit study where scant hope floats.
Purple shades and a picture packed glossy-

these old thighs are meant for lazing
these old eyes are meant for gazing
all these highs are just for glazing
that
death by dire chocolate

I Me Mine

Happy new year!