April 13, 2010

THE WIERD Punch and Judy Show

The cave opened.

Unclenched stone muscle;

efflorescence of the arthritic rose. The slither of sun

cut the mountain skin

and darkness trickled out / puss-puddly-ooze.

Simon munched on air, thoughtfully.

and thoughtfully,

munching on air, Simon opened

his writer and typed ‘Ooze

me a word, muscle

me a skin –

I must hide from the sun’

Clickety-clack, a basso clicks the new typewriter

( chicken bones and tin foil). A sun-

striped donkey, a zebra in fact, thoughtfully

investigated this strange noise - the skin

of his silence has been opened

by the typewriter flexing its muscle.

The darkness continued to ooze.

The darkness continued to ooze

from the cave; rivers emptied by the sun.

Meantime Simon pulled his bicep muscle

throwing stones at the zebra, who realised that ‘thoughtfully’

as a career choice had been a mistake. The zebra opened

his legs and farted in derision. ‘Keep your skin!’

he shited,

and high-kneed off in the direction of the mountain’s kin:

(New York was a horizon of skyscrapers fed by sewage ooze.

- the most drinkable water in the U.S (the adverts promised))

The cave opened.

Where the dark had been, shadows echoed the sun.

Simon Zebra (his adopted name defeating the sun-striped donkey)

               echoed the echoes thoughtfully

and the new age type writer continued to flex his muscle.

So far the typewriter and not Simon have been the muscle

of this story. In rectification Simon opens his mouth, the fifth hole in his skin,

and forms a question slowly, thoughtfully:

‘Where are the other four holes of the mountain, where, from ooze

to torrents, darkness floods the world, for only half of Time lies in the sun?’

He wrote it down so as not to forget. Unlike a cave, the mouth cannot remain opened.

The muscles of his finger tips tightened as he opened

his beer. Thoughtfully he sipped the frothy ooze

and retreated into the cave. His head-skin was red from the sun.

April 28, 2009

No Separation

Born from different wombs I love you

As if we were the same being

And seeing you cry

just made you love me more

when I hold you, I want to hold you

so much that you tranfuse through my chest

into my heart – no separation.

Love hurts I’ve discovered,

but what am I to do

When you have a spirit and soul to match your

Heaven-mirrored beauty

That’s it –

You mirror heaven and I stand in front of you

And am struck dumb and in awe.

Remember the silly hobo-child from the other-side

Of the valley.

He remembers you.

The explosion in his heart wont let him forget.

The Evening Water

Crawling across the evening waters

           Golden worms and caterpillars

Born of the crystal street lamps

           That decorate the river highway.

The blind blacksmith with the one silver eye

           left just a minute ago

Having told me of Ireland and the fall

          And I am left on the tall banks -

of the water, that gently kiss

          the whispering reeds.

April 15, 2009

Jyoti’s Painting

          Decorated in willow leaves

And painted in watery moonlight

          That ran down her slender arms

          Trickling trippingly off her fingertips

She held a child in her arms.

          Nestled in her breast-

          Grouse hidden in heather.

Hidden from the disjointed etches

The lonely artist has made of this life

       The scratches that carve out

       The crown and the cross.

But mother and son are born from

A different imagination.

April 11, 2009

Most of the time

Most of the time I’m with it, I’m pretty strong

I have my finger on the pulse of her neck

Beat Beat Beat (clap clap clap)

I measure it out and out

But not always

Toot toot toot

Most of the time-

The jazzy saxophone carries me off.

But sometimes music don’t chase that wolf away


He’s here and his pack too

Most of the time isn’t this time.

Shit man its time to run

The clouds are coming

And the train is chugging

Pretty fast too.

I can read the signs, figure the situation

I’m not billy blind

Most of the time

But the moon don’t shine tonight

The clouds are coming

You see needs must when the devil rides

Where’s the crossroads,

Wheres the sign

I never been there

No siree

Not I

So why does the wolf pierce me with yellow eyes

Fill the empty caverns with her cries

I’m a wolf

Lone and out

You see most of the time

Isn’t this time

April 01, 2009

The Church Cross (Eve and Adam)

The silhouette stands as a reminder

Against the red heart of the setting sun

Who tired and rusty, lay down to rest

But the church cross stands there still

through the night and moon

And against that red beating heart

We talked in the garden of other things

though the church cross stood there still

through the night and moon

that swam slowly through the deep half of the sky,

We talked in the garden of other things

We forgot the cross and the sun and moon

that swam slowly through the deep half of the sky,

rather forgetting what was told not to forget

Yes we forgot the cross and the sun and moon-

But if this original sin then I am glad I am in it with you

And I’d rather forget what was told not to forget

even as I raise my brown soft eyes I remember

That if this original sin then I am glad I am in it with you

as tired and rusty, we lay down our head to rest

Though even as I raise my brown soft eyes I remember -

The silhouette stands as a reminder

February 16, 2009

Over the hill

Fortune twitched, entwined

     in a violet woven vine.

The setting sun winks upon

     the one who would be mine.

She sat on top the hill

     as the train rolled half past four

taking me away - the moon

     gently shuts the door.

Eyes of Angels

A room full of mirrors reflecting forevers

renders reality as fragile as April ice

and in the shimmer of the spiders silk threaded web

lives the silver droplet of the world in a sunbeam.

Rows and Throws

We hit the top of the valley with youthful bounce and lay our eyes over scenes of green golden madness.

"Light your pipes and fill your jars" I scream across the sky dome,

"We are change and more besides"

Whipping up tunes of the old days we commence our journey of sight and mind and the girls

The girls in rows and throws laughing throw us rose crowns and thongs as we gallop out in Arthurian quest.

She's on my mind as a newness rolls on past, though I'd rather her not be.

She sends me into mad chaos, what I would do for those hips and lips, her love.  Her innocence of energy galls me.

              If only she would throw me rose crowns and thongs.

February 13, 2009

I saw you that night

Think how far you have fallen O Morning Star.

I saw you that night,

In the beauty of the hills

as the ocean blew against the rocks.

The sun, a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch

blessed the earth and then

         surrendered to the night.

August 2022

Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
Jul |  Today  |
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
8 9 10 11 12 13 14
15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31            

Search this blog

Most recent comments

  • Wow deep! I really liked reading this, such poetic writing, when's the next story Zebedee? by on this entry
  • I kinda want to comment on the trackback rather than leave my lame appreciative noises at the end of… by on this entry
  • I kinda want to comment on the trackback rather than leave my lame appreciative noises at the end of… by on this entry
  • Ah…purple prose :P But I love this whole concept, and I love how it's written, for reasons which I… by on this entry
  • or noone employed him , cutting stones was just his hobby, so after he became rich, he could spend a… by XCW on this entry

Blog archive

RSS2.0 Atom
Not signed in
Sign in

Powered by BlogBuilder