What beckoned,
What called
must have been stronger than
blood,
overriding
Stale argument.
I imagine
a black rose
Pungent
Irresistible,
A circus barker
Promising
marriage
and
Peace,
A stepping down.
What beckoned,
What called
must have been stronger than
blood,
overriding
Stale argument.
I imagine
a black rose
Pungent
Irresistible,
A circus barker
Promising
marriage
and
Peace,
A stepping down.
A lot of things
Go in one way
And come out another.
The Change Agent
Was in there
Blinking his eye
Not knowing even
What he was doing.
I wish I had known
Long ago
I had a home
That felt comfortable
Where I could come
Whatever the weather ,
Where I was known
For who I wanted to be,
A place that protected me
from my own intentions.
I found one late
And I still don’t know
If I belong there.
What do any of us leave when
we leave this world except a
blemish, that is, a smear on the face
of Time that may appear further along
in the sphere of someone else who recalls
its authenticity in the form of say a word, an
image, a remark, a posture of body that enters
likely by Chance thru a corridor of Memory in
association with other factors or none
and then passes on again without us really
having had anything to do with it at all? We live on
despite ourselves in pieces and our fame,
justified or not, prevails.
There is a part missing
We will never understand
The space inside and the space
beyond
The way the signs collide
If there are any signs at all.
She was her mother’s favourite
A child as fresh as a meadow’s breath
With aspirations and infatuations
that made her death
One of those the Fates intended
To fall into strangers’ hands
To be marked for her simple manner
The way she loved and the way
She danced.
The vile reaches of a vacuous public
The product of a bankrupt estate
Ripped at this flower on a constant basis
Until not much was left to chance.
She withstood their brutal plundering
In the shadows of the human touch
A martyr for what is decent
In an age of much mistrust,
She trusted
The lies hurled by rabid children
Against her reputation and grace
wounded her once too often
Touched her in a tender place
And caused a commotion of feelings
To rise up from her core.
She eventually succumbed to the bleakness
She could no longer endure
Yet not until she had relayed her story
In a most public domain
Did anyone go out of their way
To try to understand the pain
Of the ages
The plight of the young
The mysteries of a hatred
That is with us so strong.
I wait for the summons.
When it arrives I comply
And enter the chapel.
I sit like a king removed
listening to the thin silence
Draw me back into the
The mysteries and wonder
What artwork to expect fashioned
This day by the devil’s mouth,
what shapes will the body of
the snake take on , whether pointed,
or curved like punctuation, or rather
coiled almost seamlessly into an O.
I don’t know.
Death’s needs hold sway,
It’s odors must speak sweet
And fill up the air as in a stable
Or a house of ill –repute.
My back arches like The Thinker
Elbows grinding into tops of thighs.
The light is weak.
Then I jut vertical to open
To give the babies passage
And kick back.
They rush to oblige, creating
A symphony, besides, dropping
plop plop into the drink.
I think, that is enough.
But no, wait, I was wrong,
Another comes along to
join the song.
And yet, another follows.
Oh, my! I sigh, I must’ve had too
Much for dinner.
One day, I vow, I will be thinner.
At least, I’m lighter.
And now the party’s over.
Time to tidy up.
That’s less fun but has to be done.
Scroll down.
The white pages, the tugs and pinches,
the moustache all coated.
Fingers probe, scoop up the soil.
Acknowledge it’s the wet season.
How much to stem the flood? This
Is becoming drudgery! Pad after pad.
But look how bright we’re getting!
Maybe another roll will do it.
Finally, yes, here it is: unblemished. Pristine.
Not a hint of muck. Good as new.
I stand. Roll up. Buckle tight. Proudly,
Focussing down, I lean on the handle
And with sadness wave my goodbyes.
Press your finger
Feel the pain.
It’s not right
Until it comes again.
The wash of yesterdays
The fields of blame.
They never let you
End this game.
You stand up to it
Mouth in clench.
Never resting
On any bench.
You laugh and dance
You work the crowd.
You don’t much worry
If you do it loud.
And then you retire
To your cell and ponder
Where and when and how
You wonder.
The situation is
I am living inside a hat
But I’m not a head.
What I am instead
is hard to say.
I have fallen
to reason
Today.
Everything is as it always was and it won’t go
Away:
The rain pelts the window into pinkness.
What can I do:
Hide inside a cabinet,
Sleep,
Exercise my options?
There is not one good measure that can alleviate
the general disquiet.
Sit in the middle of it.
It will pass.
It will return
Meat day.
In the basement.
Nothing completely alive.
All things push inward
And sigh.
Bloated gray air
Reptilian grace
Calm dissatisfaction
Habitual ache.
Wait.
Repeat.
Wait.
No signal
No.
Dry
Dry
Dry.
If you were mine
I would advise you
To wear your skin
Like a window
Lightly and transparent
Revealing
A hard flower underneath
Cultivated thru discipline.
You are just nineteen
And you relish all eyes
On your surfaces
A radiance that sings
like the sun.
What glory to behold
For a moment in the day!
But you can I know
Feel the harsh reaches of time
Already clawing from close- by.
Don’t deny
that you can
And if you can’t you will
be shattered.
So be wise
Be wise and be kind
And find
A centre.
Why trouble yourself?
It will just be over and you will say:
Was it worth it?
Any of it?
The memories will not even be enough
To keep you aloft.
They will be muddled and dim,
If anything
Inviting derision.
Why bother?
Because…
Because what else is there to do?
There is a drill in my head now
And I can’t escape it.
Oh, it stopped.
Oh,it started again.
Okay,
What next? a telephone call from hell?
I am tired of talking to robots.
I am weary of playing the clown.
I can’t help you.
You can’t help me.
And yet…and yet
What else will there be?
It is too…
No it isn’t
It is too…
Not that surely not too
Maybe not.
Why not?
I can’t hear you
It’s a long…
Yes?
I want…
Yes?
It is so …
Long?
Good bye.
No
Not long, far.
Long too
Not too…
Far?
Is it, really?
What?
Not too far.
No.
It is.
You think so?
I know
What?
Is true.
You do?
I do.
I do, too.
You don’t, you only think you do.
I don’t think, I know.
Know?
Yes.
How far?
Farther.
Than?
You think.
I knew that.
When?
Before…
When?
You told me.
I don’t believe you.
Believe me.
How can I?
Just do.
I won’t believe you, you always…
What?
Make mistakes
Mistakes? You think so?
I said so.
I know you said so,but what do you think?
I’m not sure.
It’s true?
How can I ?
What?
Believe you.
You can.
I can but I don’t want to.
Oh!
Yes, oh.
That’s a different matter.
It is a different matter entirely.
Yes, are we there?
You don’t believe me, so don’t ask.
What ?
Anything.
Don’t talk, watch.
I will.
Good.
The poles.
Yes, the poles.
The sky.
The farms.
The cows.
The…
The horizon.
Yes, good.
The hori…
Don’t talk,talk corrupts, okay?
Okay.
Just
Go
To
Sleep.