Tuesday, 6 November 2012

"Is It Dark In Here?"


"Is It Dark In Here?"

I speak of "I" as if I knew who that was, 
she wears mismatched garments, 
has an implacable accent, 
delights in the ludicrous 
and cries at her follies. 

Sometimes she's all I know, 
sometimes I know her not, 
she shocks and repels me, 
drives me to other identities, 
yet inescapable as my body's shadow - 
or is it hers? 

I've abused her, hated her, 
loved her, needed her, 
robbed, hurt and confused her, 
or by her, perhaps? 

A channelling scribe for a tantrum-mad child, 
a Hymnal composer to the Goddess within - 
Teach me, O Selfhood, 
who is it that does these things? 
It surely is the same human woman 
that acquires drunkards' bruises, 
and listens to callusing pen-hand sing. 

So often, her thoughts are clich├ęd, but true, 
too rarely she studies in silence. 
The ten thousand "I"s are awed, 
snapped open, destroyed and recognised, 
inside the darkness, the stillness, we shall find. 
If my soul indeed had eyelids, 
would they close to the light that blinds?

(2nd Oct 2012)

"Future Harvests"

"Future Harvests"

I seek forever, understanding, 
why do I fix so upon the Doomed? 
So much beauty abounds, surrounds, all around, 
yet the mind turns to the sick, sad and dying. 

I wish this were stating a heart of compassion, 
it is macabre fascination - the crushed gentle pigeon 
to be swallowed by seagulls, the maggots that cleanse 
crows' skulls with such love. 

Prodding the guts of my soul with a stick, 
I find their function, responses, purpose, perhaps. 
Brother Donkey, Sister Ass, My Golem, My Zombie, 
dissected to exposition, exploded diagram of 
descriptions, prescriptions, and stuff.

Can a bear of little brain be 
the same after the guts are re-sewn? 

I remember when these broad fields 
were fields as far as I'd see, 
and now re-sown, broad-cast seeded, 
they have become other - rotated crops to keep good health, 
fine practice to keep, indeed, but moment by moment, 
or as Aeons fly by, though the land is eternal, 
every crop, to reap, must die. 

Gather oats for Sister Ass, lest it be 
less preparation than is needful. 
Stewardhood may be the one true duty.


(2nd Oct 2012)

"Fear of Consumption"

"Fear of Consumption"

Studied in Sleepiness, Monkey-Mind A-wandering, 
Tea-Ceremony of my cigarette teaches one thing, 
Two things, of dependence and focus. 
Flick my failing pen, pick anew.

Foolish drunken monkey, awaken! 
Re-ignite. New pen, new day, 
It's dawn behind those curtains.

It is of use to pray, to aim and align to something better, 
Wonder why I went astray, was it anyone's fault? 

Some things simply happen - I wish for things to happen simply.
Better to be honest and simple than a complex, talented liar, 
Better to never know how it tastes to sin 
Than to be sick with foul aftertaste evermore. 

Are we made of Regrets? 
Founded 'pon Hope? 
Who Knows? Who Knows...? 
I certainly don't. 

One Image is Eternal, Mother in Gown 
and Crown and Shrouds of Shade, 
We beg her; Please Love Me - 
Too proud to admit to the pain, 
Too afraid to enter the dark CaveMouth 
Entering on Her terrain -

She Is The Tiger, 
She Will Eat Us.


(2nd Oct 2012)