Thursday, August 27, 2009

Words.....

Elegy

The sun is setting on a new dawn,
weak and exhausted.
A doomed renaissance, simultaneous birth and death.
The Hollow men shudder to behold
the child of their time
as they give birth to Horror;
A cripple squatting on the shaking orb
that is the Earth.
Dribbling oily blood from rotten gums
and gaping wounds.

Tanks swarm like flies on its skin,
Buzzing, grunting, snarling a war song
With blank lyrics.
Their ambling voyage an incessant wake
Mourning the death of peace, of hope.

In Asia’s abandoned backyard
Moaning an anguished whisper
Lies this orphan, this betrayed Iraq,
in a heap on the sun-baked dirt,
shot to pieces and weeping bullet tears for Allah.

World

The mass of solid
air rises naked. Further, higher,
than fickle fingers stretch
or pray,
to find touch.
Caged eyes seek sight, climbing
slowly, slowly, dropping
Back to rest foot-high
far away, like forever, that one word
resting on my lips.

Before I spit it
onto the ground.
It slashes the bare air.

I tread
empty vowels and falling
naked leaves
and open-mouthed nothingsInto the mud


London Lights

The Milky Way fell
Onto cold concrete streets,
Coated Battersea bridge
From its peaks to its seats.

The water stole star-spots
And rushed past in guilt
Trapping open-mouthed angels
In mud, oil and silt.

As I flew through the pavements
Or walked through the sky
Heaven’s blooms grew grey stalks,
Blinked blindly, held high.

When the windows paint pictures
(pathetic and pale)
Once again, eyes will drown
Mercury’s lamplit trail.

The Milky Way fell,
Burned, and melted black forms,
Into light-dripping art,
Clear as clouds, still as storms.

When the city sings like,
Night-time flickers, grows rust,
Motors moan, mourn and snarl,
Choking night’s stage in dust.

Bed

Nut in a shell
I
Watch
The cold music of the wall
Strain against the air
To touch me
Block vibration, ringing
Ringing, into transient
Still
Void thicker than honey
nectar crystallised
Into a dream-sand rock.
Waiting to shatter at the blades of day.


Naked shore

The Blue is no longer Blue but
stripped and molten topaz
teasing the Earth it cradles,
licking, tickling its numb shore. Coaxing
voice of Atlantis’ womb.

Summer’s soul stains glass
water, over ornate gold parent rocks
contoured with age’s worry. They build

the cradle of the drowned
shadows who play
antecedent to seagulls’ feral shock
bravado songs to mock
Man’s voice.

And finally, eternally,
Elysian dreams pulse
synchronised to pounding
waves.
And we are no longer we but slaves
to the sea our siren and
prised far
apart as continents,

as liquid life spills onto crystal rocks –
shatters –
here is the fatal opening,
our beach exposed
by the sea we are.


From a pool of shadows
Grow fingered paws, whiskers,
A tail-tower of wool,
Ushering leaves aside
To announce speculatory stillness.

His nut-nose scans our silhouettes
Reflected black in a glassy squint;
Our seven-inch judge reserves sentence
Holding the seconds in headlock
As the air twitches in suspense.

Until he melts the frieze
Into a scurry torrent,
Racing the wind to the treetop
To supervise from his office branch;

Swallowed back into the green, and green, and black.

Rose

She meekly smiles
Her form beguiles
Her curves shake, sway
They tremble, play

A game of love,
A game of lust,
She hypnotises,
Turns to dust

Seduce me now
Touch, burn, endow
My eyes with
you
So false, so true

Pierce cruelly all
My being, fall
From angel heights,
Sing my last rites.

Roots and branches

Here is where we stand in stone, still;
Rooted
Into place by weak will

Teardrops
Heal in time’s embraces;
rendered dead
By newfound faces.

Shaking
Grins pray for tomorrow;
Reaching
Out to beg or borrow

Hope.
The time, the here, the now,
Before
Small twigs of change endow

New visions
Plant illusions, dreams, all
Branching,
breaking,
stretching tall.

Here
Withers
as a black, burnt bough;
Eternal, transient, new,
now.

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