Monday, June 28, 2004



She came to you
The bedroom window through
Silhouetted
Against the waning moon
An owl's hoot broke
The silence and she spoke
Of machinations
That caught breath in the throat
And both fell silent
Any noise would feel like violence
A knife pricking in the skin
On an island
In the flows of time
Thoughts sublime
Floated freely
Through your minds.
And she left, as she came
Silence but for a whispered name
A cry against the dark, cold night
For the grief-torn mind to frame.


Thew world is all you must leave behind
She said as she strode the globe
Leaving in her wake, a procession of promises
And a husk of nothing I could not let go
As I turned to look away
Past the designs of another lifetime
Compressed into one trip to the moon
And a plot for peace when atlast I die.
There came a breeze from a hidden place
Upon the open earthen face
It hallowed and sanctified my pain
And put it aside for a brighter day
Where the thunder speaks only of distant rain.

'Would you jump, if I command?'
She said with her matter-of-fact expression
'You wear your life on your lips
And I will have none of that obsession.'
But I coulsn't help but laugh
As she had done not so long ago
It seems sometimes we still wear
The clothes we always meant to throw out.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

Balinese Chopstick

Underneath and below
Taken off from earth
And all we know.
Its more than they deserve
Desert warfare
Below the seas
On the silty sand
WIll you stop to look at me?
Where do you stand?
Where do you stand?

Jumping box
Jump for me
I'm behind the bushes
Laughing at the sparrows
Staring down the barrel
A horrible way to go?

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Noxious Weeds

Stranger on the water
Speaks of love and truth
Shows us all his power
As we hurl at him abuse.

Stranger on the river
Floating by on a boat
The sun is gone but not a shiver
Marks him on this road.

Stranger on the highway
We all pass him right by
He calls as we are on our way
But we hide from his knowing eyes

Stranger at the doorway
Asking to be let in
We tell him to go away
Because there's no trusting him.

Stranger on the cross now
Bleeding for our crime
As we witness endless giving
How can we remain the same?

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Mr. Jingo's Smile

On a golden pool at sunset
On a movie-splendor ride
With a peanut-vender sidekick
The world just comes alive.
Would you throw away your freedom
For a shell of molten lead
Tearing through the atmosphere?
Or maybe through your head.
You know where that will leave you
Six feet underground
And it isn't overly pleasant
When you cannot make a sound

(quiet breathing)

He will come and take you
Take you very far away
Silence he will teach you
Silent you will stay
Eyes that notice everything
Lips that speak no wrong
Tell me are you terrified
Over where your life has gone?
Are you gutteral with fear
Are you quaking with remorse?
I tell you its too late for that
To late to take your horse (and run)

(footsteps in the night)

Eavesdrops dripping from the eaves
Leaves drop spinning from the trees
Are those your nightmare fantasies
Of what he's hiding up his sleeves?

(scream echoing down a corridor)

The air is beautiful tonight
The sky so full of colour
Dripping from the skylight
Down to our earthly palor.
We are of the heavans sailors
Or so we used to think
Before the realities of trailer
Park-life drove us to the drink.
And we saw diamonds night
And shadows in the day
Stalking close behind us
Waiting till we strayed

(sharp intake of breath)

Running gets you nowhere safe
Breaks squealing, earth spinning
You plunge down into the lake
You must have been dreaming
There can be no escape
One minute your atop your throne
The next you've lost all they can take
And you're wandering alone
Then he jumps you in the alley
And face-plant's you in the mud
As the shadows swarm around you
All calling for your blood

(sobs fading to silence)

Runnaway
Runnaway and forget
All that you never left
Behind you as you
Made your way through
The trodden paths
Of everyone
They led you there
And now your coming home
You're coming home.

(wind whistling gently through a bramble thicket)
Rubbish

The eyes in the box
The thoughts in the night
All watchers take warning
We run from the light
To the depths of the drawers
Insufferable, misserable
Calamity strikes
Over glass-calm waters.

Shake a stick
Shake a leg
Get a move on
Run to the hills
Flee to the mountains
And never return
Till the hills are drained dry
And our work here is done.
The Noon-time Demon

Romance killed
The colourful painter
At fouroclock
His nextdoor neighbor
Found him sprawled
Over the counter
Eyes like coins
Told a wonderful story
Ages ahead
But miles behind
I’m not sure I wonder
Whether he had made his mind
Was it his time to go?
You find the answer
On a train to Stockholm
Through the alps
Ontop of wasp stings
You have to put up with
The Cavalry storm
At the other end
It’s little wonder
You never seemed happy
Carrying your tool-box
Like it was the world
With an aluminum handle
Temples set watch
With eyes in their sockets
They found themselves
Racing away from the future
Screaming out in fear
Never before had they seen themselves
IN the mirror of
Other people’s minds..

Saturday, June 05, 2004

Midsummer Night's Dream

The sun behind our backs
We took to wandering
Over the beach
With the tide coming in
And washing our feet.
We couldn't believe it.
Taking our shoes
From under the table
Singing the blues
At the top our lungs
We stopped for a breather

And we took to the skies
Flying beyond tommorow
We floated above
Yesterday's cares and concerns
We took to the skies
Sailing off into the sunset
Holding hands
We passed into the seas.

And the golden sun
Anointed the ocean
In a passionfruit glow
We felt that the world
Had spun a new rythme
The tides of the sea
Were all we laid eyes on
But for the waving grass
Mimicking peaceful surrender
To the clouds above
Smiling in granduer

And we took to the skies
Flying beyond tommorow
We floated above
Yesterday's cares and concerns
We took to the skies
Sailing off into the sunset
Holding hands
We passed above the seas.

The sun had set
And the deepening darkness
Did nothing to hide
Her beautiful eyes
Against the gilding of
The natural splendor
Of the crashing waves
We took to laughing
And rolling in the sand
The moon above, the earth below
We were where we belonged.

And we took to the skies
Flying beyond all tommorows
We drifted away
Soaring above all we knew
We took to the skies
Sailing off into the moonglow
Holding hands
We saw what the future brings

Is it over?

Marching through the wintercourse of daily life on the commencement of examlihood, one canst perhaps get a sounding for the deep sense of dread and awe that has overflown into the wellsprings of the university. Nothing does anymore, more like quitting and starting again. So much for early year promises of indulging in pre-exam period study, and for 'working hard all year long'. Sometimes it seems the year-long is so much longer.

And they sat there thinking that they had made some crazy mistake. Perched in the forefront of their vision, like a silent mockery of social and ecconomic justices many and varied, was the tyranical form of the exams. Hulking and huge, like a bohemoth that cannot be overcome, or the sacred piece of land loaned out to the underworthy. There is always so much to talk about, but environs always seem to end in a 'no but thanks for asking'. We could weave our entertainment into spasmodic melodies. Harmonies and symphonies, and taken aback, they lay there, half awake, half asleep. Chalk outlines on the lawn-and-concrete-surface of modern life. They twitter like hyperventilating sparrows and mock and jeer with rhapsodic voices. I wish, now, that I had last year all over again, as it was a wonderful year. Rueing, that is the word. And the work. Seems dissappointments always fail to make appointments, and they take it like the dead. Stoic and unfriendly, almost xenophobic, they stare across the vicious morass of a society they have so freely ammalgamated with. They dance aloud, always muttering about how surgery seems to take them that next step higher, nearer the clouds, closer to the sun that draws them like a fly to the trap.

It's almost Darwinian, if such a trend exists. No sooner is the flat pancake of life flipped than an almost anomalous visiter from another solar system is laid flat on their doorstep. Anxious. Vital. They measure their lives by the beating of their heart, and get scared when environmental noise pollution threatens their way of life. It is always nice to watch the butterfly emerge from it's coccoon, to flutter away in the breeze in its too-short life. But the more you think about it, the sadder it seems, till butterflies draw nought but tears from the sad faces they flutter past. But all things die, or so they have been led to believe. As they lay there, the checkerboard sunlight playing shadow puppets on their upturned faces. MAybe oneday they will be ready for the step ahead. Until then, they keep their heads down, close to their books in the futile hope that that day will not catch them napping.
Talk is Cheap, Obey Your Thirst

The sun came over
The same old hill today
And I rolled over
To turn my alarm clock off
Just as I did yesterday
And before that, who knows?

The wind blew through
The skeleton trees today
As I stood below the line
And hung out my washing
Just as I did last week
And perhaps even the week before..

I read a book
And it spoke to me of you
I turned the pages
And your face sprung into view
I'd turn around
But I'm afraid you're turning too
It looks like today
It's just a different shade of blue.

A stone clattered
Down the asphelt street today
I turned to see it pass
And it shattered at my feet
That didn't happen yesterday
I wonder what it means?

I read a book
And it spoke to me of you
I turned the pages
And your face sprung into view
I'd turn around
But I'm afraid you're turning too
It looks like today
It's just a different shade of blue.

I took a photo
Down from on my wall
Whenever I come in there
It always caught my eye
If I had speck of courage
I'd burn it in the flames
But I'm afraid I won't put it down
When you occupy my view

I read a book
And it spoke to me of you
I turned the pages
And your face sprung into view
I'm close to crying
Because I think you're crying too
Seems this day and every day
Keeps pointing back to you.

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

Chalkboards

His imagination took him places
He could scarsely believe what he saw
Through the window
An army of sand marching past
The totem poles to a lightning god
All linking hands.
As they filed past in grim succession
Arms reaching towards the sky
Which glared down in unbreachable torment
Through billowing clouds of light.

His imagination took him places
He would never admit to a soul
For the memories
Played subtle symphonies in his mind
Sorrow and joy mingling
Like falling tears
They watered the earth till green exploded
The scenery like bubonic plague
And was washed away
By the upwelling colour of life
Neverending, its quest to overwhelm the eyes.
Till quenched humming spoke to him
Of journeys over, and arrival home.