Monthly Archives: January 2013

Your Selected Attention

(Revised, redone, reposted)

You deem your
Smile reserved
For ones who
Your attention.
You abhor them
And between
Bouts of boredom
You select the
Lucky bidder.
One with the
The needier
The devout
In obvious
And gleam
Of desire,
Which you
Clearly require.
Later in your
Unresolved abandon,
Comfortable in
The bed you land in,
You don’t wait,
You are there
For no one but
Your own sake.
You are your
Own religion,
A singular opinion
You believe in.
You are only
All that is
To You.

A Child In Mind


I imagine the day
Where the butter bugs play
Down by the fiery moon
And dragons all slay
The bad men in the way
With fierce justice
And honour true

In my head I can be
All that I see
Imagination creating the rest
The world plays for me
With whatever I need
I am the biggest,
The brightest, the best

By the garden I laugh
Across snails path
No matter the time outside
I have always one last
Spell to be cast
Magically small
In the garden I hide

Intense Process

Mighty life
Loving wife
Eager ear
Seldom here
Light of weight
Starving fate
Torn apart
Shrivelled heart
Waiting breath
Exhaustive flesh
Pinched and stretched
Daily wretch
Anger swore
Ignoring more
Wide open
Flood waters
Broken mortar
Rotten reflection
Intense inspection
Quiet calm
Open palm
Now agrees
Finding free

Without Destination

He rides around in the silk blackness of night.

Up and down the drives of worn out dirt roads.

Listening to the grinding his tyres make.

And he revels in the loneliness it creates.

His wheels grind deeply against each and every rock.

His life is filled with sound

The city is filled with sound

His mind is white noise

But out here where the wind sings slowly

He is endowed time to breathe

And drive without a reason or purpose

Because sometimes you have to go nowhere

To get to the place you never imagined

Was your destination

A Long Ago Existence

How is that I cant place
Your face?
After all this time
It’s expected
My emotions long rejected
Your existence
But to me
And my reality
There’s still much
You are a part of
But your memory
Still resides
Albeit its subtle
And inside

The things that happened
Left imprints
Upon emotions
And I almost think
I can see you
Still there,
Beside them
Carefully waiting for me
And those feelings
To rise up
And to make me sink
Although I can
Still see that smile
And it makes me sick
The smile that said
You loved to watch me hurt
You were not good
For any one
I pity the party
That took you on

Sometimes I can imagine
The life I would have led
With you
A life dark with
And a Brevity
Too heavy
For life
Pushing and heaving
Longing for more
For a lightness,
For an unknown
Graceful levity

I am so lucky
To have left your grasp
Long before
You could have
Swallowed me whole.
You are a warning
And worse for all wear
I never got as bad as you
You were my rock bottom
And that was enough
For me
Through you I see
What I hope I never
Have to watch
Someone I love
Feel they have to be
Thank you
For that clarity

Even though
It was long ago
That we parted ways
I easily got better
And over time
My best
That lesson learned
Showed me
The worst phase
One I vowed to never

This Stage

Soft caramel sheets
with caught fingers
Like the prey within
a web
And desirous thoughts
That dwell beneath
The moment
The flow
The ebb
Tried to wrap you
up inside and
Throw off the resolute
To make it seem
Perhaps a chance
A better shape to suit

The longing and
The drawn out sighs
Walking across
A fine precipice
Into the crevices
Finding solaces
In the singular release
The button press

But in the middle of
This dance across
This platform
This Stage
This bed
I search for me
In all of you
And find
Something else instead

A reprieve for me. A gift of Neruda.

Today my head is like cotton, my mind swamped with dull thudding, behind eyes, inside head. All caused by tiny little things attacking and hacking away inside my body. So instead of trying to pull some words out of its think viscous embrace I am giving you a poem of someone else instead.
I am working on something I will post later but right please enjoy the words of an amazing man.
Here is a delicious poem by the extraordinary Pablo Neruda –

Ode To The Storm

Last night
the tempest
with her
hair of water,
eyes of cold fire-
last night she wanted
to sleep on earth.
She came all of a sudden
newly unleashed
out of her furious planet,
her cavern in the sky;
she longed for sleep
and made her bed:
sweeping jungles and highways,
sweeping mountains,
washing ocean stones,
and then
as if they were feathers,
ravaging pine trees
to make her bed.
She took the lightning
from her quiver of fire,
dropped thunderclaps
like great barrels.
All of a sudden
there was a silence:
a single leaf
gliding on air
like a flying violin-
it touched the earth,
you took it
in your hands, great storm,
put all your winds to work
blowing their horns,
set the whole night
galloping with its horses,
all the ice whistling,
the wild
groaning in misery
like prisoners,
the earth
moaning, a woman
giving birth,
in a single blow
you blotted out
the noise of grass
or stars,
the numbed silence
like a handkerchief-
the world filled
with sound, fury and fire,
and when the lightning flashes
fell like hair
from your shining forehead,
fell like swords
from your warrior’s belt
and when we were about to think
that the world was ending,
all earth, all
at rest,
the night
fell, bleeding to death
on human sleep,
nothing but rain,
of time and sky:
nothing had fallen
except a broken branch,
an empty nest.
With your musical
with your hell-roar,
your fire
of volcanoes at night,
you played
at lifting a leaf,
gave strength to rivers,
to be men,
the weak to fear,
the tender to cry,
the windows
to rattle-
you prepared to destroy us, when
like a dagger
fury fell from the sky,
when all the light
and shadow trembled
and the pines devoured
themselves howling
on the edge of the midnight sea,
you, delicate storm,
my betrothed,
wild as you were,
did us no wrong:
but returned
to your star
and rain,
green rain,
rain full
of dreams and seeds,
of harvests
world-washing rain,
draining it,
making it new,
rain for us men
and for the seeds,
for the forgetting
of the dead
and for
tomorrow’s bread-
only the rain
you left behind,
water and music,
for this,
I love you
reckon with me,
come back,
wake me up,
illuminate me,
show me your path
so that the chosen voice,
the stormy voice of man
may join and sing your song with you.

-Pablo Neruda

The Small Things


It’s very telling
The way you see
The small things
The way its
By you
The winds caress
Upon a leaf
Green and new
Bright from light
Or the way
The sunshine moves
Amongst the
Reddened blossoms
Their silken petals
And heavy bottoms

The way you are
Can be found
In browned bark
Shadows caught
The light and dark

And in the
The magic
Of the sand
Gold within
Your hand
The trail of
Ages past
In the small
That are cast
Within the drift
Of eternal sea
The earths
Grand history
Placed upon
Your palm
To be picked up
By a passing breeze

Then there is
The crunch
The crinkled
Earthen leaf
Its lines and veins
And the earth beneath
The network
Of small creatures
Who keep it
Soft and moist
To plant
Your trees
Your flowers
To while away
Those hours
Just looking
And loving
The small things

All For Her

“It was all for her” the swallow said
As it swelled its breast with pride
Watching the man with black umbrella
Walk from side to side

“It was all for her” The man softly spoke
As he considered all he had
And kept his feet to shuffle between
The snow piles up ahead.

“It was all for her” The snow declared
As it whittled down its stock
Becoming just another pile
Of water among the rocks

“It was all for her” the rocks insisted
As they mark the borders by
And so the sun may glisten upon
Their bumped backs, soft and dry

“It was all for me” the sun affirmed
As she raised her gentle head
And watched the people praise her warmth
Wishing Summers heat instead.