NO MORE NUDITY
Fetid naked earth.
Open,paranoic sky.
Caustic privates of rivers.
Unfold rotten seas.
Baked barren hills.
Undraped wailing trees.
Ravished wounded forests.
sit,
Click the mouse,
Hack internet nudism,
Until dead soil exposed.
No erection.
Nothing.
About Candles (Senryu)
………………………………………
Burnt out candle
But the wicker still flickers
The night is endless.
……………………………………
Perfumed boudoir
She sees the candle’s flame
Dreams re-remembered.
……………………………………….
Amongst lit candles
She waits for her lover
Dinner has gone cold.
……………………………………
He reads by candlelight
Didn’t pay the electric bill
No TV tonight.
……………………………………….
Snowy winter night
Warms her hands over candlelight
Hardship lacks romance.
………………………………………..
From Tasmania with Love
The wind is a whisper, bell hard evergreen leaves
softly clank as shifting light caresses the landscape.
I saw a film clip of the last Tasmanian tiger, the film
was shot in 1936, the beast looked like a striped,
dog and it has now disappeared into the landscape
of dreams. But wait! A stirring amongst the bushes,
a golden streaked animal is watching me and it isn’t
a pussy cat. The sky darkens, light temporarily fades,
there is a deep silence, birds have stopped singing.
Portugal is very far from Tasmania, but I know what
I saw, or was it a sunbeam dancing on yellow straw?
The news has said it’s getting better,
But who on Earth believes in it?
Now, when all dreams are bound to shatter,
I laugh at such a lame deceit.
And I don’t care this place is dying
Beneath my own fallen sky.
It is your life that I’m denying,
As you have taken mine awry.
I tell myself that spring is near,
But April never comes alone.
It takes me back to vanished years,
It brings the memories, once gone.
My hopes are buried in despair,
As sleeplessness has made me think.
And thoughts do always lead right where
The truth is dwelling. Chances shrink.
I’ve drawn a land of endless silence,
But certainly, I’ve failed to flee.
This place of never-ending violence
Will kill me, won’t lose touch with me.
The laws of heart are my salvation,
Yet I can never get enough
Of unforgettable sensations.
I’m still alive just due to love.
For Ashleigh
Light-blue pushes through the blackness of the night, not a soul walks the street.
Buildings appear from the shadows, silhouetted by the grey
Remains from the night before.
The fountain still sleeps, flat as a mirror, crystal clear.
Slowly the day is born and night bows in the wake of its own death.
Soon the silence will be shattered and each building begins to change.
One, now two cars start rolling by.
The street lamps fold up in the threat from the morning
Sun and the flash of their souls hide for one more day.
A cycle begins and ends and “morning” is the prince of new life.
My eyes are heavy; yet dart to capture this moment of sacrifice and acceptance.
My body seems to give in like the night to the weariness, though I am
Thrilled by this beautiful light.
And someone, somewhere is waiting for me, in a little town not far from here.
Where my bed is empty but filled with her.
And for me there is nothing that can compare to her beauty.
Morning is just the start of each new day,
But it is with her, that my life begins.
© Copyright
In the southern sky
clouds infected by motion
bring forth weather through the
ocean winds and it lies now
an unravelling majesty
an unfolding myth
stories of intervening lands
Bird Migration
I see no birds today
Need them for my loneliness
Wonder why they flew?
The birds which left
Built me a nest of feathers
A bed of eiderdown.
Birds are transient
Open the door of any cage
See them fly as dreams.
I once saw, where the horizon ends, a ship plough the sky.
White tears on pale blue, and I saw the waiting darkness;
I knew, before any others, it would be a starlit night.
Look, I said, but it was too late, the ship had cast anchor
behind a cloud loading mist for Dogger Banks, and take
onboard discarded dreams to plug the dikes of Amsterdam.
Sunflowers on mythical sea and red flying fish, my ship is
bound for the Saragossa Sea with a hold full of old sailors,
it’s here they come to stalk in the fog of the forgotten.
The stand off’s been set, to each other we look,
both waiting for the next move, in anticipation we wait.
Neither will back down, no weakness shown,
the king of this jungle, will soon be revealed.
Defiantly he stands, with a scowl on his face,
hands on his hips, he doesn’t sway.
Shaking his head with disapproval, he looks at me sly,
“I don’t have to” he states, with not even a blink in his eyes.
“You listen to me, just do what your told”
shocked by his reply, but amused by his style.
Contemplating my rebuttal, to regain control,
I need to choose my word wisely, in this is a battle of wills.
Not a shutter he makes, with that dirty look in his eyes,
the words just roll off his tongue, why am I not surprised.
“You can’t make me”, he claims, convinced with his words,
he thinks with that it’s over, boy! You never gonna learn.
I give him that stare, you know the one.
the one that tells him it over, or his goose is done.
“Come… here… now!” in that stern leveled voice,
this game is over, you’ll do what I say.
His last little dig, as he drags his feet slowly along,
“I hate you” he mumbles, his lips nearly hitting the ground.
This is the kind of stuff, that melts my heart away,
Me and my 3year old battling it out, to see who’s king for the day.
after rebuttal
when I see you
nowadays
I am
not
me
anymore,
rather
some
glib simulacrum
of my former
glory.
a pastiche
of motley
pass-me-ons
&
hand-me-downs.
it was the coldness of your dismissal
that sliver ed my hopes,
sli ced me up,
shard
boy,
shard
man,
a whispering idiot
FULL of hot air
signifying
nothing.
the has-been
who played on
well past
retirement,
just
another
bit-player
reduced to drivel
in his own B grade
movie,
sp lin te re d,
self-pitying
like this
across the pages
here
and
there…
ad nauseum.
Our life comprises of pairs and triangles
It begins and ends with pairs and triangles
Life begins with infantile bond with mother,
Passing on to temptation & pain of adultery.
A hanging tale of pairings and triangles,
Dependency on mother is the first pair,
Culminating into a triangle as soon as
One enters into the world of his own.
In infancy this mother-child pairing
Through the triangular oedipal complex
Will get activated in adolescence and
Will resolve in the glory of first love.
This first pairing and triangle is lifelong
If one has guts to manage getting along.