Rows of phoenix palms at a national border, The Somalian-Ethiopian wall by a highway near a city, English-built in rocks like Cornwall, The white resident smiles and explains in friendly talk That life was good anyway. A small death ahead and we go on towards At cruising speed in a beamer, The palm trees at…
Month: May 2018
Strange Yet Familiar
Something was unseen, and no-one knew it was there. Peoples continued their existence without it, as they didn’t know it existed. Sometimes, they were very close to it and had no inkling of its’ prescience. It was maybe behind the wall, under the earth, beneath the floorboards, Behind the Stars, within a tree, deep where…
Solipsist-Nihilist
I am placed in my surroundings, I see and touch cars, chairs, pens and persons, This forms a scene, but not a picture, a scenario. I exist in Time, here there is many an assumption, That Time is a point, a one-thing, an unseen absolute. I interact with my scenario, and it changes me, I…
Miracle Drugs
Jesus at the pharmacy, Jesus at the lab, Jesus baked some drugs one day and put them in a bag. Jesus was a drugstore cowboy, Jesus had an arm, Jesus shot it up one day and kept away from harm. Jesus was a chemist, Jesus baked a pill, Jesus gobbled goofballs when he was…
Methaphor for Ennui
Is this a nice day? It looks like night. Was that really a superette? It might have been a family’s home. Where are we going? We’re driving around all day. Why do you have a car? I’d rather have a bike. What do you mean by that? I aren’t a frigging genius. Who was that…
If I
If, If I, If I ever, If I ever was, If I ever was not, If I ever was not or, If I ever was not or any, If I ever was not or any thing, If I was ever anything or not, This would have happened.
Biker’s Anthem
Ride upon the winds for your life. Move on, move on always move on. Stay awhile only, then go! Through rain, fire and snow. Your friends are your only friends, Your destiny is in your wheels, And your fate is in your hands. Keep your enemies at bay. Tomorrow you will be gone,…
The Bungalow
Once, there was a bungalow sitting beneath the trees, In the murky meadow madness of the bungalow-low breeze, White and pale and very sad, waiting for a friend, Waiting for its misery to end. c.1976. 24 Claude Rd, Manurewa.
That Beautiful Eye
Your eye from the side is a triangle of white dipped in emotion, bathed in tears – a lid drawn down, through which tears carve ragged streams on windswept cheeks. Angles – light and dark – staring at nothing – the past; an intensity of loss, pain written at the edge, a sadness, glistening
the dying tree
If I thought about the future, mortality; developed feelings, a philosophy; was alternately stifled, lonely; doubtful of the neighbours – I’d fear being felled. Pray for a death one day dozing in a field when all my friends have passed away.
from Things Are Wrong Though Fair Enough #3
12 I’ve thought about this event, didn’t know how to write it or what it meant. he must have come home with me…maybe I offered him the couch? but I woke on the couch and he was at the round table by the window with the view onto the bottle shop and car dealers at…
from Things Are Wrong Though Fair Enough
11. A BIRTH I begin again on what it took: a Solar System, many bones, an undercover life. I am now become detective in the womb growing to a music from the room I form to muffled shouts and laughter, a waterfall in sunlight, dazzling white, and rain, prism clean as the space I am…