Friday, 25 December 2009
Somehow we faded
like the blooms of the bunch you bought me
the day you told me it was over
and i felt something drain
from me - maybe colour, maybe hope
and my disbelief was a feeble wash
as their colours
drowned, dripped, dropped
from blossoms to mulch
catching every ray
as it passed through their vase
sucking light and life
desaturation to a severe degree
you tilted, wilted
trudged your way to the door
in a moment of reanimation
i rediscovered my true colours
took up that vase
your exit became explosive
befitting, that crowning glory
'smashing', they all agreed
Thursday, 10 December 2009
a bit of a time out, just a few decades or so
to realign, re-assess, rejuvenate and return to myself;
a while for the world to catch-up
with itself, a pause from its eternal spinning into infinity
and for me to adjust to my own insignificance within the universe.
It’s probable it’ll take a little longer,
centuries, perhaps even millennia
to even come close to beginning to understand
to get even iota of an inkling
of what it all means,
and who I suppose I am supposed to be.
The why of it all does not even bear considering;
this world will have frozen over,
or maybe heated to cinders and beyond ash
a thousand times over
before any mere human could even come
within harpooning distance of that particular truth.
And if by some crazy miracle,
some spectacular flaw in the passing of the seasons,
the turning of the tides, and the order of the constellation.
any mortal should stumble onto a glimmer of this conundrum,
the ferocity of the light of such immense knowledge,
it would be beyond unbearable.
A mind torn wide open
by the enormity of it all,
oblivion would become the new quest,
clawing at the vault of prior ignorance
wishing for a return to an utterly irretrievable innocence.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
I like to try and defy time
attempt to throw a spanner in the works
or even tinker enough to turn it back,
even if only a little
Slip on that green jumper -
you know, the one she knitted me
with the crazy bobbles, and monkey-long sleeves
struggling valiantly in the cupboard against feasting moths
and out of it, on, hanging down to my knees.
Make hot cordial in a mug so big
I need two hands to hold it
and it covers my nose
as I drink.
Wear giant woolen socks that pick up the fluff
and sit back on the sofa
watching Sam be baffled at every new leap
or Fox telling Dana why she really should believe
or maybe just dancing round the living room
to Stevie and Michael and Lionel and Bob.
Monday, 30 November 2009
to get every thought, every idea, every movement and memory
to share, in flowing couplets, or stilted rhymes
in reams, over pages, or just a line
And yet the desire remains
by the ability to relate
So the fever of the passion felt
just that - only experienced, unshared
Every scribble, scrawl, printed or penned
to relay the intensity that pulls everything crashing together
a million images at once impacting and
through every corner of my mind
starbursts and sunsparks at the
of a photo that recreates, not imitates
or a turn of phrase that reaches in
and twists me wrong-side out and upside down
But how in the world to assimilate and
exactly how each ignites inside beyond fathoms
each sends me soaring, propelled by awe, suspended by the wonder
How to make you know what I know,
feel just what it all makes me feel,
understand what I'm trying to tell you?
got to some sort of standing place in my head
i realise, too late, those guiding lines I let go
are still so very necessary
so I'm left, dizzy and spinning
in my attempts to go it alone, or perhaps
in the aftermath of opening myself
to too much newness all at once
my heart sirges with each discovered twist
every novel revelation or interpretation
but my head - overloaded, this excitement fatal to rationale
short-fusing the only to deal with this mass fusion,
more, mass confusion
floating, spent, back down to conformity
but even so, still compelled to snatch at
each shiny new idea on offer
Saturday, 21 November 2009
--Slips & scribbles stuffed into diaries--
up and away
Let’s float high on ebullient inconsequence
Make disregard our means to an end
Escape our end to all meaningless
Shutter take it down put it away
shut it out anything to escape
No night too dark no way too narrow
Any shout let it out release or risk
the explosion building up inside.
Take it apart with your own two hands
No one else will do it for you.
Better accept it’s up to you, kiddo,
no hero, no lone ranger to come riding out of the sunset,
except perhaps to pick up his hat
which he forgot in his haste to get out.
Oh wot laughs!
Shelter shimmering shameless nights.
Altering alternate overview overclouded
upbraided unnested from its comfort perch.
Brought out and made to face th emusic
Face up to its responsibilities
Take it down a notch or two
Pause - gasp for breath.
Overwhelming overbearing incident accident
subsume human thought
devoid of warmth
descants of fresh pain screaming in the silent night
What tuneful despair
How lustily we laugh at their petty sighs
their unfounded fears
making light, making little of what explodes
from their hearts, from their minds
The terrible terrains
unchartered truly by any man
no man at all knows the truth
Gets close only in feeling,
scrabbling for a foothold Anything to save from falling
into that abyss of unknown
that pit that mocks our illusion of safety.
Damn you, sir!
Pedalling your petty truths, penny lies,
betrayal tainting all you tout.
Go then. Leave this place and forget my name.
Soothe soothe soft and calm
beware of so much vexatious beration.
Be rational and soft in your approach.
Let there be love and light and kindness
heart take over anger’s fearful brow.
Soothe this row.
Rate it low and return
empty handed open pocketed
no penalty too great for the grave crime committed here today
foul treason, man, and no mistake.
Truly it were a disgrace to this house,
to your very name.
Fie! for shame on you.
Banish yourself hence and do not bother to be seen again
or it should be a sorry and final sight.
Tackle it down to the ground
Forgive, only because you can,
it is within your power
and there is no greater power than that.
What is this thing?
It does not soar, nor is it jubilant.
Rather, low, it shakes and heaves,
laden and lumpen
Mishapen and abhorent
to the eye and ear and all senses
that have power to perceive it
How they wish they had not.
And I? What of I?
Nothing really in particular that I can think of,
that comes to mind.
Distress built up, calcified,
needs to be banished somehow
righted before it takes too fast a hold
and may never be safely dislodged.
Senseless sadness overwhelms
overflows spills out no control
Hoping for hearing that leaves me
dazzled shining new
Its favourite stance
When it catches me unawares,
Goes in for the choke hold
Snatches only my resolution.
Leaves me a pathetic apathetic
of this nowhere place.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
~If we hadn't met~
The world would be an inordinately sadder place
If it should have been that we had not met.
Obviously, we'd have known nothing about it,
Gone on with our lives,
Spent them with others who wouldn't have been quite perfect for us,
But, in the event, worked quite well enough.
No, we'd have been pretty much unaware.
But the universe would've felt the loss of what could've been;
House-tumbling tremors at its mournful sighs.
The angels, looking down, would've shaken their heads,
Exchanged pitying glances as they shrugged wings,
Solar eclipse gestures at the foolishness of Man.
Lucky then, in our blissful ignorance,
That we stumbled on each other
And decided to stick it out.
And when we think how, no matter what our hearts' desolation
If we were to ever go our own ways,
It wouldn't be the end of the world,
Maybe, just maybe, we should think again
Sunday, 11 October 2009
A burning, an itching
a driving, a compulsion
in my bones;
a twisting of the lights
and of the tones.
& I've got to get it down,
get it down before it's flown,
this impulse that is telling me to get
a certain hold. A thought
that twitches as it ferrets
through my mind;
a symphony so bright it leaves me blind.
But it's burning to get out,
to get out
and leave behind
the restraining order that's been placed upon it
in my head, it's pounding,
it's throbbing, begs my soul
to set it free
of thinking, of echoes,
all this troubled poetry -
set it down in black and white
as I write
into a prison
on a page that's been constructed to hold my insanity.
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
I wanted this to be the best poem ever,
one with lines that held tight like friendship bonds (never sever),
endeavour to create something out of this world,
something one in a million, from my mind unfurled.
Astounding rhymes, pure sweetness curled
On the tip of my tongue, waiting to amaze you.
Each time I tried to write, nothing would come,
like somehow my huge intent had struck me dumb.
Anticipated pride led to fall, my mind numb,
scrabbling for those perfect lines, just searching for some
tiny thing worth holding out to you to say
So time ticked on, and I struggled in vain,
wrote a load of old rubbish again and again til
the whole world around me was feeling my pain
(or rather, the horror of each awful refrain!)
and begged me to stop torturing it, and my brain
with this trash – so, I did.
I hadn’t thought about it for a few weeks, and then tonight
for some reason as I’m about to go to bed, and turn off the main light
with some rooibos and vanilla, and some gingerbread just right
to delight my tongue,
I felt something in my head turn from dead to ignite.
The words started flowing, and well, I guess you can see
what came about – basically, this random story
of this poem and all it aspired to be.
I was only going for a few lines but, hey, you know me!
And you see, you were right when you told me to note
your advice – so simple – I learnt it by rote:
(and now, with artistic licence, I’ll quote)
“Whatever the mishap, any wrong step you take;
however bad the day, or how big the mistake;
no matter how much that boy turned out to be fake! –
it’ll all be ok, just as long as there’s tea and there’s cake”
Monday, 14 September 2009
but more fragile than egg shells and butterfly wings.
So if you love me, tell it loud
for me (and all the world) to hear.
Declare it on each breath,
as many times daily as your heart
pumps it around your being,
so I can take your words
and weave a gossamer cloak of reassurance -
a trembling shift, fine as mist
but stronger than a knight's steel shell,
made so because you spoke it.
If you have affection, show me clear
as my cat who, chest rumbling joyful
at the sight of me, brushes love firm with her
fur-fuelled greeting. Pads paws to toes, knees, face,
and when I lay,
assumes my back as her throne,
lazes regal, from my shoulders to waist,
her demonstration that she owns me
just as well as I do her.
If you love me, love, then testify.
from dreams I had writ
as my waking mind slept
and my sleeping mind, adept,
created realities of worlds where clouds shone and trees
wove shelters above us, as crimson skies wept.
I awoke with my tongue swollen tight,
heavy with the words I had uttered unaware;
tales that I no longer recall,
But that burned as they left their home in my heart.
The memories, my own, merged with the world's,
demanding an audience, compelling a teller.
Ignorant upon waking,
my tongue fell still.
I awoke, beyond tired
from the miles I had trudged
in my bed. Travelled continents unchartered
creating, in my own, a cartographer's dream;
lands whose names inspire deserts and oceans
and the flaws in smoky cystal-cut glass,
each a glimpse of the Garden, perhaps.
Melting on waking,
as all proper dreamscapes must.
I awoke and lay, prone,
waiting for the dreams to return.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
I saw you stand tonight
at a bus-stop, all nonchalant, so straight;
not even proud, just natural,
and the idea of a stick was laughable,
that wheelchair some half-imagined nightmare
no association with that faultless posture.
I heard you speak tonight,
not to me, but regaling some crowd
of friends with your treatise on that album
by the Arctic Monkeys (remember?).
Languid, but by choice,
your speech broken only by your laughter.
I saw you write tonight,
sat hunched at your machine,
your brow a field of furrows - focused, not pained.
And you produced reams,
covered my landscape effortlessly,
impatient for the space to fill with each new passage.
I see you smile, not to chide,
but gently mock my childish fancy.
And maybe it is only fantasy,
but I believe it real -
I saw it tonight.
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Mohammed Yahya and his band were the ones on stage this time, filling the venue with a sound only he has - Afro beat fusing with hip-hop, blues and spoken word.
They were joined by an amazing line up of special guests, including Poetic Pilgrimage, Masikah, Muslim Belal, R U Kid, and the brilliant Ismael, from Mecca 2 Medina.
Once again, if you haven't heard already, check out Mohammed's MySpace page.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
soft, but sure
follow your intentions to the place they lead
let them be your map to that sacred place
you only needed come so far from home
to find the love within your soul
to reveal that love that makes you whole
you came to seek His Love
how beautiful you are, dear sister
humbled and awed, a child once more
among a family you have always known
but never before seen on such a scale
your tears trail,
unheeded as the dust they displace
travel apparent on your face
leaves a trace that is rendered as nothing
by the light that shines through
your joy emanates, pure, inevitable, true
how could you know
what your soul had forgotten?
memory stolen, but in mercy -
the only way you could leave the perfection
of that garden where we all began
His Love - such Love
bathing each white robe, each beard, each shawl
the bond so strong
will you ever be able to come home again?
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
tonight the stars fell from the sky
rained down, terrified, tails ablaze
liquid fire, studding the smouldering earth
could not withstand
the gravitational pull
of the planet
Newton’s discovery made potent
by the world’s misery combined
and as the final drop of hope
dried to a grain of despair
the heavens were overwhelmed
some say they did not fall –
they jumped; dove head-first
to their extinction
ancient witnesses grown weary of all they saw
seeking only to find a way
their nightly visions
Sunday, 5 July 2009
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
how careless you are with my heart,
accepting with such disregard
affection I can’t help but send your way.
Not uncaring, but so unaware
how you play me for a fool
with no intention, no idea.
Creating chaos with a glance,
devastation in one soft sigh.
And when we touch,
in your innocent arms I am lost,
sparking on sunbursts and iridescence,
thrust into a fantasy of requital.
And for an instant my world shimmers.
Then reality returns,
and somehow it slips away
and we go back to being
just good friends..
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
Friday, 12 June 2009
I haven't quite gotten round to going to bed yet tonight (last night...), My head is beginning to feel it right about now, so off soon for a few hours.
I just heard the bells of a local church tolling, though, and it reminded me of some years back, when I was up around this time. I'd stayed up to finish reading 'Chocolat', and heard those same bells. The whole thing resulted in the poem below.
Somehow sad and bittersweet
Like memories of holidays spent with relatives long since vacated
A crystallite-nostalgia, fey-like in the heat
Fragile and frayed memory of childhood days
Clear as the haze on holiday-packed tarmac
Ice-cream hands and sugar-sweet stains
Traipsing it all back home again
To the sound of crying in the rain
Irrational fear of what just may be
Constant craving for what never was
Elaborate fantasy replayed to perfection
Touched and tempered by cruel intentions
Streaked through with crying in the night
All that has not yet passed is yet to come
And hardly ever a thought of what is
In haste overlooked and unreflected
In favour of memories soon to be made
Enmeshed in the clamour of times half –forgotten
Anticipation of the to come enlivens
Fatal attraction to the irrepressible evoked
Mingle and dwindle to four seasons in one day
Scuppered by cunning, ticking streams
Moments elude and slip by without apology
The snapshots blur and outlines smudge
And now is imagined, a study in quicksilver
Sitting back to observe and absorb in the name of love
A vague lesson in suspended animation
Subdued in the reverberation of the chimes crying freedom
Monday 19/8/02; 4am-5am
Sunday, 7 June 2009
struggle to recreate me,
transform, inhabit a different she
one closer to the ideal that he,
in my mind, would rather see
to become another
for the sake of one other
who is, in fact, yet to discover
that i wish he could be lover, brother, child, and mother
there is no way on God’s good earth
that, not with child, i can give birth
to a new me that is somehow worth
what i have deemed to be his dearth
i set aside pretension,
accept futile re-invention
will no way stem apprehension
at the truth I’m still too scared to mention
or yet accept - somehow, someway,
the way I am right now, today,
the me I see, trembling at he,
is the only she I’ll ever be
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Thursday, 4 June 2009
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Twinkling all over, head to toe dazzling,
Radiate the magnificence of my mood.
And all is excellent, fantastic, amazingly sublime.
Crazy feeling, love and affection
Bubbling over to bursting point,
Beaming on through forbidden grin.
But all the while,
As this good feeling glows,
As it skitters, and scatters, threatens to explode
A mass of endorphins; too buzzed to contain
Shooting fireworks of fancy out of my brain,
A part of me waits for that fuzzy feeling to fizzle out,
The part that knows how all silver linings come with a catch.
Prediction, even through this glittering, glorious, sun-drenched dance,
Of the storm fast approaching my personal joyville.
These light tapping feet will drag to despondency
In the murk of the gloom that is bound.
And it promises dense, that feeling;
It will crumple and crush as I reach
That dip at the end of this rollercoaster.