Exclusive eyes

Exclusive Eyes

 

The changes in the temperature when they walk into the room,

my desires and my memories all hang upon a loom.

 

Exclusive eyes they do not care for me,

they see only beauty and it’s me they fail to see.

their sepia gaze drawn down from a million nights

as the world spirals down a thousand frugal flights.

 

Exclusive eyes are ones of indescribable nature,

sharp they are not, nor are they round.

Magnificent and present not unlike Panhellenic stature

but like these granite features, their meaning can never be found.

 

Exclusive eyes how they make me think.

What must I do? What must I be?

to make exclusive eyes blink.

 

They watch the turning world with the sweetest despair

and they see through me as if I were a glass of wine.

Exclusive eyes don’t have a minute to spare

but as time eludes me, the moment seems too fine.

 

 

four doves

four doves

that morning
of rain
the islands
hard adrift
in cloud
four white doves
on the shell
by the waves
coming
lightly in
flew off
out above the
grey washing
silver slivered
tide in an arc
wide as the sea
i tried to guess
what four
white doves
could mean
for me
on a morning
of rain the
land the cloud
turning back
the clock to
being as
one
upon the
waters.

19 june 2013
tamaki estuary

last night

The heart pumped with blood is the origin of thought & the worms between my ears

suck it dry, tell it as it is, like a tape recorder would.

 

I hear it & I’m interested & I want to, dig

in; get away from, but. We have lost

 

touch. Understand: that: if this is

it, & all is – well, I’m glad & no:

 

it’s not a waste; it’s

good. A god is

 

killed as he walks

home one night across

 

the field because:

he is young & he is beautiful. Ugh,

 

the cushioned blow: a blade soaked thru the purple

robe. He was/is, golden his thighs

 

framed like a tree to climb. Tonight

leant upon the parapet I

 

 

sleep of it, my ears full of

fireworks.

 

beached and boyant in the sun

The girls laughed and heaped more sea-weed on the luscious pile
where Lavinia sat
They all had scuba masks and snorkels
It wasn’t that
That made me grin, just their glee and yelps in high pitch

The shore was busy with delight
all ages played and filled my sight with happiness
Waves carried brown bodies with boards
Paddlers knelt or regally stood
While others jumped the white tide
that foamed the ride

Murray watched from throne aloft
His chariot a van backed up to the beach
and there he grinned and claimed
”I love the Gisborne vibe” who could not
agree this jibe

Today I biked and bled into the water
my heat retreated as I floated high on top
and years retreated also, as my brain is soft
or so its said by others that avoid such fun
I will run them over with my love and forgive
them much

Joy from the simple games we play on beach
Laughter medics one and all
and we forget the sand that reaches creases
nicks our skin and
be filled with it all

 

Beached and boyant in the sun

The girls laughed and heaped more sea-weed on the luscious pile
where Lavinia sat
They all had scuba masks and snorkels
It wasn’t that
That made me grin, just their glee and yelps in high pitch

The shore was busy with delight
all ages played and filled my sight with happiness
Waves carried brown bodies with boards
Paddlers knelt or regally stood
While others jumped the white tide
that foamed the ride

Murray watched from throne aloft
His chariot a van backed up to the beach
and there he grinned and claimed
”I love the Gisborne vibe” who could not
agree this jibe

Today I biked and bled into the water
my heat retreated as I floated high on top
and years retreated also, as my brain is soft
or so its said by others that avoid such fun
I will run them over with my love and forgive
them much

Joy from the simple games we play on beach
Laughter medics one and all
and we forget the sand that reaches creases
nicks our skin and
be filled with it all

 

Lovers outside

He peered through,

the dust infested curtain.

He recoiled,  coughed,

And resumed.

He focused his sluggish eyes,

To a couple of youth.

They approached each other,

From land to sea; they touched.

A kiss, a simple love;

A childish romance.

A tear trickled down the man’s,

dried skin.

Moments past,

He forgot,

The lovers outside.

A poem by: Origin8

 

ways to disconnect

I opened my eyes an hour later.

The long cabbage tree was waving.

The Jasmines flowered

along the back wall; nothing

had changed. I’m half

dreaming; how easy it is

to fold, to stare at a

mottled sky, fall

in the pool, hear

nothing but reverie. A key

turns

the lock & my stomach

drops. I’m in

& out of it

fast: chiselling

stone; at the hotel,

getting laid in-

to by a tan-

skinned man, for a cut-

price room, with a whore;

a boy wandering home,

on the trains, on the steps

of the museum, wanting it

to stop, to crash

the window. The key

turns & you hear the mute pause

before the door shuts & footsteps

take the hall.

 

19/12/17

I am sorry

 


 

I am sorry
I don’t want to stand still
I want to begin to crawl
And walk, run and jump
But the sinking sand stops me
Me and all of my stars high in the heavens.
I am sorry
My heart is weak and I am weak without a heart
My lungs fill with toxic air
Air I must escape from. A distant dream lost in my imagination
I am sorry
I’ve lost the days and months and years to be what I’ve should have been
I am young and hidden
Hidden behind a cloak, my true belonging invisible.
I am sorry
A shy, enclosed caterpillar wanting to change
A mature young adult desperate to catch
Catch a shooting star going places beyond the skies
I am sorry
Future self
Please forgive
My ignorance
Your regret
My mistakes
Your memories
And
Our missing chance
I am sorry

A poem by Origin8

Cleopatras Cats

What’s this deal Cleopatra did with the cats?
Do they play trumpet in a jazz band?
Why doesn’t somebody answer that bloody phone?
Somebody said something off topic,
They glanced at one another,
Emptied the words gone to the wind,
But her eyes met his,
They both knew in unison what it meant,

all souls, 1902

the dirty Thames. the

dirty brown fog. i lie

upon my bed hands

behind my head. walk

the boards watch the

boats roll by. i’m

 

open to the voices

on the street, wheels,

the clatter that makes me

glad to be, alone. my

bones, only, weigh me

down, my existential

leanings. doctor,

 

12/12/17