Still Loving

The quiet eye

underestimates

our ankles,

soft against

each other;

 

idles in

the under-

ground tavern

I sweep

in my mind,

deep into corners

and back

caressing

the wall.

 

I see

mid-tones

and heavy

jaws of the dark;

a few words

sifted, careless.

I’ve seen them.

 

I’ve seen you,

fly into a

man’s eye

and out again;

nearing the rope

I keep

in the cupboard.

 

Distant now;

a thousand

coloured balls

spin

across the

pupil.

 

Out of the room

I see you – white;

splash a bee

on the brick-work,

kick on your back

and see me

at the window.

 

14 February, 2018

Curtain

You might trace

the eye-sockets

of enemies

 

settled in the folds;

curious samples of feet

– the duck

 

or elephant tramping off

the hem of the cliff.

I loathe a modern home

 

set to cream on cream;

a sterile soap pinching

corners; eyes have

 

no place to comb.

I like these cheap hotel

designs; the remnant bins

 

a hive of animates.

 

5 February, 2018

Sunday Float

Hungry for this seal at the ears,

I roll in the pool.

 

It’s long since I shut you out,

tipped my face to the sky

and swooned.  I hear

 

the dry spheres of my breath.  Only,

 

under me: the avalanche aisles

sweep; and the graze of the whale,

less ethereal in the flesh of open sea,

 

terrifies – sepulchral, and metal-grey.

I remember now, it broke skin

to the left of me – I wasn’t afraid

 

but that was a dream; the symbol:

life, conquered there

at the strange pier;

 

and me in the water – bleak as it was –

without blood.

 

February 5th, 2018

 

Manuscripts

That was it
He gathered his pipe and retired to his cottage
Thought of the money/health wasted on ill repute
And thought how he wasted the other half
He turned his kerosene lamp to ail the dusk
Looked blankly lost at first
But started with an old pad scribbling by hand
The cat had his tongue at that moment
A mouth full of stitches
In to the night, he poured
This marked the code or scripts had begun.

History

You exist in the poor length

of my second toe, our lip and Irish eye

that pinks upon the island air.

 

I’m bored cleaning corpse from

empirical floor.  I pack jaws

that don’t speak, at doors to centuries.

 

Sing – give us wars that ring

in your elbow, sting of injury,

and porous nuance.

 

I heard a man tore you once

and told your whanau in desperation.

They stood, and taught him to carve.

 

It matters, in the new-bled day

that pours out of sun or piddles in the rain,

I learned a wing healed upon the plane.

 

8/05/17

 

Note- plane as in planing wood.

Me; Orator

Tell me, stranger

–  your eye amplifies me –

Are my words away though,     as I hear them?

blown out      damp as the night air.

 

It’s owned in my brain; tight

until I speak             and ooze.

An ear of mine cranes, in exile – a dog.

It can     not    near    the master’s voice

 

that creeps    and climbs    and peaks

at the white hair of your temple.

Connection

The beautiful beginnings of your arrival to my world and the world slows down as we go.
Its all discovery, its a special faze that our thoughts collect with the same connection.
You are that someone that digs at my heart when I look into the eyes of an angel.
The sun is shining I have got my love in front of me, I can’t wait to see you smile again.
The birds they sing their beautiful songs and the flowers show their splendor but there is still nothing as beautiful as you.
Even diamonds start as coal so give us time to shine, the sweetest things they they burn before they shine.

…. Alpha and Omega the beginning and the end,
Where did it begin and where will it end?
The voice that spoke, ‘Let there be light’ from
chaos, void, where the spirit brooded,
rang throughout the universe.
An instrument of the divines’ voice,
Tis music to those with ears to hear.
Cockles and bells on your toes, she shall
have’ Music wherever she goes’
What are the sources for the symphony…?
That waits; maybe a chorus will greet
from creations’ creatures,
A song from the tribe of birds,
The trill of laughter from a child,
Clatter, banging of cups and plates,
Radio blasting with a song,
Sounds of mornings’ orchestra have come.
The weeping as you’re touched in your inner core
whilst you listen to the magic source.
It moves, breathes, soaks, encompasses,
blankets invades, resounds, surrounds,
permeates, births,
Everywhere we go, in all we do, are…
comes music, song, melody, tune, harmony,
Symphonies, orchestras, beat, rhythm,
Our bodies, minds, relationships, creation,
Instruments in the Creators’ hand,
Where long ago music began with choirs
Of angelic hosts who sang,
Good will and peace to all men.

A Brother like No other

flower-gloryI have a brother,
He plays keyboard in a band,
Ronnie is his name,
He’s my brother,
He’s like no other.

I watch while his friends jeer,
Call him crazy,
I cringe inside,
He’s my brother.

He wilts quicker than others,
They say Ronnie’s a sissy,
Call him crazy,
Call him a girl,
They tell him how pretty he looks
With his braided curls.

I get mad,
Yell,
Lash out,
I tell them
He’s my brother,
He ain’t no sissy,
He’s not a girl.

He’s Ronnie,
He’s my brother,
He’s like no other.

They whisper behind cupped hands,
They point,
They snicker,
They grin as he walks by,
They ask their small-minded friends,
Do you see that boy?
His name is Crazy Ronnie,
He must be gay.

I want to tell them about my brother,
How when he plays the keyboard
Magic sweeps into a room,
It transports you to another land,
It fills your mind,
Your soul,
Your spirit
With beauty,
It takes you beyond this visible world,
It’s angelic.

This man who plays keyboard in the band,
The man they know as Crazy Ronnie,
Does not exist.

I see a musician who moves me deeply,
A magician,
A poet,
A seer.

The music
And the musician
Unfold before my eyes,
As I listen and watch,
I see a thing of beauty,
He is talented beyond belief,
Bestowed with a gift,
He is unique,
Courageous,

Simply put,
This is my brother whom I love,
He is like no other.

Hello Friend

 

Playing my old guitar ,
Old days like dead stars, falling apart
Memories hold me back, they’re trying to Steal my dreams away
I’ve never seen such a lonely heart, making my six string Rot and stale.

A broken guitar
Broken from inside and outside
I can hear the screams of pain that has stayed Of late.

Hello Friend,

you’re back again asking me what I have to say
Well Can you hear my six strings fade away
There was a time, it had a name, now it’s just broken it’s not the same.

Please don’t forget our time she said,
the time when we played and laughed away
the time when you kissed my soul, my name
for all to see who loved us just the same.

A broken guitar
Broken from inside and outside
I can hear the screams of pain that has stayed Of late.

Hello Friend,

you’re back again asking me what I have to say
Well Can you hear my six strings fade away,
There was a time, it had a name, now it’s just broken it’s not the same.

Oh I see,
you played with me played with my name
My soul feels tired, it wants to rest now
my heart is broken it needs to be fixed now
Just go away get the fuck away,
The time has come for you to go home now.
Just leave me in pain, let me be how I know I need to
I cannot be broken I am not my old six string.
Though I’ve lost my name, but soon I’ll find it.

A broken guitar
Broken from inside and outside
I can hear the screams of pain that has stayed Of late.

Hello Friend,

you’re back again asking me what I have to say
Well Can you hear my six strings fade away
There was a time, it had a name, now it’s just broken, has lost its name