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Showing posts from January, 2012

Olive Leaf Eyes

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Dark are the changes that break with each sleepy blink Over eyes the colour of the Olive tree leaves that are curling in drought We could stop the light from filtering in and the resemblance would leave us The sturdy courage that night brings would wrap itself around us I hear the music from below the cliff, I hear if from below the fall strange brightness it brings to me like a house fire upon the hill and for the sake of the tired I will end my musings, that which I ponder although the new chapter has not yet begun O! why should the great resemblance be commented on? Why should your grey green olive leaf eyes be closed to the night? This cigarette burns itself while these spirits burn my thoughts I saw one grandfather, dead, in my dreams I saw another, dead, in his coffin Looking vulnerable with his final surrender Am I simple? Am I agreeable? I would like to think that all I need is night's courage I am lost in the valleys of a jacket and shirt Falling deeper

Pearls On Men

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The old wireless's noise fell down the cracks between the floorboard The noise ate at the colour on the walls and the colour of your eyes All the while you explained what would happen when the sun died And I looked at you in the light of the flare, the ship was sinking Though we were healthy, weren't we? Yes. and we didn't care. Our worries were similar to every other 26 year old listening to water eat mortality Waves curling over limbs and hearts bursting with love and wonderment Oh we had mountains to climb yes but the rivers deep drew us And took us, floating, bound and pondering Trying to come to grips with the thrill of chasing and letting go While all the poppies and all the Iris' swayed in breeze Their dew covered leaves restlessy waving at the sky that was going to fall Or this is what our hearts told us... Funny they should tell us this and nothing of love We hugged and we shared our thoughts on each others legs Yours like great hairy trunks an

Drown The Thought Of Winter

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Not really understanding how anything works anymore And the crimson panics are inevitable- hundreds of them But the heat swelters up causing ripples in the air Things are laughter, things are loud like door knocks or heat beats But none of this I understand I have written you short stories and spat on the wood to polish it Watched countless nights turn to their bellies  Why must the fires burn behind the smokey faces? It's not like horses could take us there It's not like we would want to return yet we will One day Smelling of cigarettes and stale beer When you kick the gravel the dust flies up and sticks to our sweat When you kick at the thistle the heads fly off and land in the grass Where is the desire where are the legs that ran? And the corners of your eyes will begin to burn  But that is the price that one pays for the freedom that you handed out We caught our planes when we were alone We sstood in the skeletons of the beached wha

His Song

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I walked the shore that carried itself toward the sky It wasn't far that I needed to go, though I knew I would go further The waves were ripples, the tide was out, the sun was high I heard the water crash but to me it was a mere murmur Gulls flew with wings caught on the wind invisible kite strings untangled All the grains of sand seemed to make a desert that i chose to walk on For a comfort and calmness to breath life in the mind that was strangled I heard the water crash but all I heard was his song The sky was grey or was it blue? maybe somewhere in between The head land wasn't far with its lighthouse standing proud I turned behind to see a wave wash my footprints clean The gulls all cried but all I heard was his voice sing strong and loud I paused to stare deep at the water, deep toward the sea Maybe I thought I had come far enough as far as I needed to go There is nought the sea can teach on love's sweet misery For when i listened to my lover

The Italian Prisoner

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Aggrieve the levitation into a dizzying torment A trickster singing a song from a tree's branch Big the boat that holds the strangled poetry's symbol Little arrow point to me hold down my New York symmetry Everyone is an anti-orgasm anti-climax merchant Smashing the bed head against the needle and pin I am the old man fearing the bottle and the open window Where does the camera lie, who shot the glass from the head? Relaxing because the days are passing and money is bread 1 is the fire, 2 is the fuel, 3 is the smoke, 4 is the rain He sam me coming and I saw the nudge in his jeans Canyons of masterpieces echoing the songs of S.Y. I read the letters from the white shirts in Mexico Enough was talked of, enough was said, but nothing of the flashing light Blisters broken, worked to the Friday, the birthing room was destroyed I have a sleepy poet in my mind, sailing with his brother the wind Did we ever get it together? sleeping on our sides in the

The Zenith of Demuth

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At the zenith is the kicking emotion  Painted with blue and edged with saxophone gold Your happiness is sour and rusted in a muddy gown The anger and frustration kicks at my chest And I think of invisible wings taking me somewhere else Anywhere else All over the world I hear the strum of guitars And all over the world I hear the call of beauty But here You are one of the piteous souls who strive And who are forever spinning like the world  Around a Sun trying to get closer but never touching You will never change And I think of Demuth, I think of Charles The only thing that calms me on this Tuesday He understand what he was and who he was He was not threatened by these things  Sitting at the table of great men  He knew that to be great was to laugh and not care You care too much and laugh too seldom You are threatened by beauty and by loneliness I dwell in loneliness' beauty And this is why I will dwell in the ideal of Demuth Demut

Me The Moth, You The Flame

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Take me to a different place And show this moth a brand new candle We can climb on roofs And leap like burglars Over alley-way gaps And slide on loose tiles Breathing in the low pollution Of this town Of the town we love so much Show the highest roof To stop and view The sprawling suburbia To light our cigarettes And undo our flies Pissing off the gutter Onto the street Laughing and running as the yells begin We can climb down fire escape And through the pubs And upstairs into clubs Which our mother's raised us never to see I will never be alone And never want to be Because you are here Showing me new flames New jewels and new colours Creating new names for the town The town we love so much Kissing in parks On bandstands and benches Looking for symmetry in flowers and faces for faces in the smoke of cigarettes Laughing as the chemicals kick in As the bottles drop and smash And philosophising on being born to die I will not die alone I will wil

The Rhythm Section

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I'm a glutton for the rhythm section A glutton for the rhyme and the punch A faggot with a cracked and bleeding lip It's so hot in here the roof is perspiring Out side it is warm with a pleasant little breeze Ladies, three sisters, cackle and melt into one another There lives are nothing more than floral dresses Im the Faggot with the hairy chest The one who built himself a wishing well One handed- for I had an erection in the other I look up to the sun bleached blue I wonder if people have forgotten the winter already If people have forgotten the ice on the river Swollen and stuck like frozen apple cores The children ride their bikes in zag-zag lines With hair cuts that render sex dead for another 8 years I feel the heat waves lay brown shades along my skin And the radio plays Elton John What can you do? When it is summer? And Love has fallen down wishing wells Reaching for water, reaching for shade O! What a price to pay The rhythm, the beat, we must

Two Princes

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Name one city you have never been to And this night we will go... Listen to the herbs as the wind blows the seed heads together We will dig a hole and plant them And return to see them flower I will be the prince of sidewalk rubbish You will be the prince of second hand smoke Your realm shall reach from the abandoned car factories of DEtroit To the Picnic tables at the foot of the Eiffel tower My Kingdom will be from the rotting seafood markets of Melbourne To the chiselled doorways of Zanzibar We will sign treaties and declare wars and demand things impossible We shall wail at any mention of the queen She is so very boring, she shall be outlawed We will make love in newly conquered lands All the time listening for the sound of seed heads blowing together Signalling the long journey home must take place Our lands must be given away to the lesser people Who will fight and bicker and destroy themselves And no doubt their own children Just for

Noah And His Team

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I tried to sweep the floors Before Noah and his team came through Pointless! of course The floor was made from dirt- Noah pointed this out to me I tried buying a brand new double breasted jacket Just something I could wear while the red sun would set So often there is silence But life has a soundtrack in a brand new double breasted jacket You can make love while smoking cigarettes But I can do it while drinking Champagne, reading Lorca and licking envelopes So often the envelope is returned Without the love re-inserted of course If the moon is full and you can hear the moan whatchoo gonna do? Turn left? Turn Right? Knock on the door and smell the mildew behind the wallpaper? When the moon is full and you can hear the moan whatchoo gonna do? Knock Once Knock Twice Unlock the door and smell the smoke behind the fire Ah! To be in this much deep thought, you have to be sensitive To be this sensitive is to forgive nobody Up comes the sun and down comes the blasphe