All entries for November 2005

November 26, 2005

Two more Jazz poems

iii – Foggy Day

Silver shadows
Spray painted fog
Acid in my throat

Finger clicks
Bass licks
Trapped in a mist
Lying low,
Shifting slow.

Take the paper off
Accidental paint clings
A frosty outline
On wood beneath
A sharp sprayed line.

iv – Early Riser

Teasing strands of
Wet hair straight.
Roast coffee brewing
To the bubbling jive
Of morning.

Awake
Grey sweatered
Thinned out
With paper doubt
And lack of sleep
That keeps
You sane.

Dew still settling
Sarah Vaughan
Crooning as you
Paint your face
For the day
Ahead.


November 25, 2005

End of Day

My mind shuts down
Of its own accord
My eyes too.
The pen still scratches.

1.0AM
Must write.
Get it down,
Get it out.
The mind shuts down
Spills out the reels
Of shot film
From behind the eyes.
The dark room
Fills with today’s rushes.

Tomorrow it will all
Be cut and dried
Preserved, edited.
Tonight, today’s memories
Are tangled threads
Of imaginary celluloid
Spilt on paper
And they can be anything.


November 22, 2005

An Arabian Knight

This is an antinarrative lipogram - ie one letter from the alphabet has deliberately not been used. Guess which letter...

You have heard the following tale before, I know. The tale of a renowned prince of Arabia, and that beautiful and talented lady who married him. Her name, I need not mention, for I am certain that you know to whom I refer.

It all began one winter night, when the daughter of the Grand Vizier got hitched to the prince. The prince, who had a rather peculiar hang up (which you may well remember). He had become convinced that all women, without exception are lying and deceitful (a prejudice engendered after catching one wife in company of her brother-in-law, and we wont mention exactly what they were up to. You will already have deduced it, no doubt.) After that unfortunate event, the prince could not tolerate a wife long. Truth be told, he had them all executed the day after the ceremony. Except for one, the aforementioned lady – and you know her name, though I have not yet mentioned it.

That very beautiful and talented lady told our hero a new tale every night, and every time, broke off the telling before dawn with a cliff hanger ending. The prince, dying to hear more, put off her execution for longer and longer while he remained enthralled by the genii and the lamp, the magic flying carpet, Ali-Baba and that cave which only opened to a certain word (you know the one, don’t you.) Adventure followed adventure, tale within tale until finally our prince relented and had the executioner fired, meaning the queen could finally go to bed and nod off for a change. The prince, however, continued to find fault with her plan, having inevitably fallen headlong in love with her, and by that time he (naturally enough) had a very different activity in mind…


November 19, 2005

ii – Time after Time

Chance, I hit upon
A song long forgotten
Or perhaps never really known
Lyric-less but singing
Like arms opened

Hard cities
Harder loves lost
The strange familiar
Look in every colour eye
Shy and yet un-shy

Hanging notes
Dropped to float
Travelling back
To the hand that bites
The heart that feeds it.


i – First Frost

Sultry Angel Eyes
Fog outside
Hot fire in crisp
Green-grey air
And my dark hair
Partially in my eye

The view like country
House and garden
Waugh, Vetriano
That Poliakoff one

A moment is a moment
Autumn
Both here and there
In frost-filled air
Strains of saxophone
Just as much home
Then as now.


November 18, 2005

The Leech

It battens on
Sly insidious
Tugging, sucking at the heart
This leech-like thing, love.

Pull it off
Its maw still clings
And you tear at your flesh
To scratch it out.

The only way it seems
Is to burn it out
Cleanse with fire
But still you are sore.

Or wait for it to satisfy
Itself, feeding on you
Till you are drained
And it drops off of its own accord.

And yet, I have a mortal wound
The sickness of a poison dart
And the pressure of too much blood
Makes my heart race fit to break.

So here I wait
For my leech-lover
To share my sanguine passion
And let me breathe again.


November 16, 2005

Everything you ever wanted to know

about what the Chinese actually means in Firefly

November 15, 2005

Some quotes

I may disagree strongly with all that you have said sir, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.
Voltaire

The man who, in a fit of melancholy, kills himself today, would have wished to live had he waited a week.
Voltaire

Even the Devil can quote scripture to suit his purposes
William Shakespeare

Life is a grindstone; whether it grinds you down or polishes you up depends on what you're made of.
Jacob M. Braude

Nil Illigitimi Carborundum
motto of the Coldstream Guards, apparently


The Blue Stream

Yeah, another excersise, "translating" a piece of Swedish. If you don't like antinarrative, stear clear of it...

New Year, Katherine the Golden did promise to drink every morning and afternoon of come home again water. Some long water trading afternoon, the year did leave horse-fast. I Ansiget, nothing did promise and nothing did come of it. I did say before, leave us still dear father year. Sure, I know nothing of the law and therefore did vainly promise like a false-name. So I did say then, I did say leave us, good people dears, quickly, I believe. Drink-tasks hang me in tears over a cauldron of dancing mood. Dear soft nothing did I promise, then I did take some trade, and have track then after some such little brown hound. With this the law I did vainly take up the tasks, and the track did merge with the dawn of growing vanity.

Through growing forest despite careful searching it was not found. The elders had some trade and case I did say with help, stand down without treasure. Before kind Katherine’s ring of hand snapped and dear Ansiget’s year stood still at dawn, I did say through our help, leave us. That year, greetings like a helping shield did suggest that like nothing did come up through drink-forest lot, so that false first spark given that princess, did say they hoped the water fortified my tree-fire leader. Say then of the same well-made youth, our clear-jade sweet Katherine, some trader sang the I call: “Hurrah for Katherine! Hurrah for Katherine!” Katherine say leave us, lot of them crowd. Some beautifully did such drinking blow, more of more did struggle for poor blessing, more of more I Ansiget strive for heaven. Men, with this, with their “Hurrah” blew faith overland, over the track and it lit up, men say to their wives and drink-lovers.

“Cheers!” said one, to appease the dear dancing year. Night of that year was at the turn still. The greeting of the king unkind, we managed to see Ting our dear. Lock of steel of snow did embrace our young up-giver, if Pultene the sad did say of them they had any sadness without far guiding through safety later. Men did promise to leave horse-fast, growing to high-men of the young year soon for the prince. Nothing did no good get when through kind prophesy that mistakes often, she was dear soon with one man that served that king.


November 14, 2005

Eighty Seven Random Words

This is an Anti-narrative excersise, similar to the previous, but only this time using 87 completely random words. It may not make much sense...

Desperate amalgamate. Admire and nauseate, then arbitrate this polymorphic tale of two roughcasts why typify, like Luis and Abram, the good. A Tale of corrosive August porridge propelling acetone strategies that falsify, browbeat and dampen extant truths.

Anyway, upperclassman Tony, circumpolar Tony, Tony of the psychotic avowal, gulf warden of Hades and his confederate, Alan, our candid Candide, Aquarian delicacy abundant in strategy to confuse, had a plan. Methodical manipulation, actuarial replica, curvilinear cryostat, clarinet and marjoram.
Two carbines, dactyl barrettes, frayed, salubrious, enter Dunedin Easternmost typesetting, lip snagging, baleen plates focal. Earthmove chemotherapy, heartbeat in their Cretan cochlea, sobbing blank implosion, like an aging skittle it all goes down, stretch cancel dodecahedron.

Pierce the ectoderm, Celanese alum, rung by rung in this factious corps we fathom the deductible only.


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