Blue Magic

You soon learn
your true best friend
be a shade of blue that unlocks your pen

With grim gratitude
build on a mood
food's only fuel
pain be the food.

We bathe in dark
liquid currency
lathering up
before rinsing the art.

Dirt's prized product
we struggle with our strings
rebellious puppets
discontent
we brood on things.

Ice Water

In the dark,
her words are drained
"We're drifting apart...
.... you don't even..."

He feels the weight of her speech
knows he should be fixing
even now he neglects her
exploring her metaphor:

What if
when we die
we're like icebergs finally melted away

Apparently,
the space is empty
just memories...
but discerning folk know:

What came before,
remains all around
broken down
slushing 'round and 'round
interconnected parts
of the amorphous,
ever ready
to transform,
again and again
never remembering

Always wondering
what comes next?

Cry later

Dear god

What makes me
make them laugh
pins me down

in this strange place
in my dark soul
finally I see
the joke's
on me.

The ways of life

The majority paddle
heart content

to float
leisurely on the surface.

Few dive deep
for the treasure.

some struggle against the current
some lose themselves in it.
some drown.

some climb out.

Arrogance is old as the river.
Snapping and splashing,
the afflicted believe their stroke
alone is acceptable.

Caught up,
they claw and scratch
and won't be satisfied
till everybody swims
just like them.

Lost And Found

Some things you should never

lose 

control of emotions,

they will reliably betray you.

But lose the spark 

that ignites your heart

your dreams will curl up and shrink

with you.

Some loss is unavoidable

 

Old friends.

First love.

Honeymoon chapters.

Once upon a time, I found the truth,

as inhibition was lost,

it shot straight to my head.

As I chased old stories,

I lost my way. Burnt out, 

I found religion 

had lost it's grip.

Among other things lost

several half read books

a spiderman collection (by way of bet)

a cat, jobs, fights, weight, teeth, wallets

and keys (obviously).

I found my voice,

still I find 

I borrow the odd line.

"In her, I found peace, like Malcolm in the east."

I've found love

as it found me.

Like the time I found cash

concealed among leaves

sat still in my path  

just waiting for me.

When it's meant to be, 

you'll find a way -

so they say.

Now and again,

I find my bliss.

Red Kippah

In my eye
at the intersection of envy
and disdain

red velvet sits 

clipped atop his equanimity, like a cherry 

It commands my fickle fascination.

Whether leopard print hijabs,
emerald turbans 

or golden rosary beads
the tug is the same

All religion is born of magnetic passion
pulling
even after I have strayed its orbit.

Badges of piety

how they grate me
yet I remain endeared

Appraising elegant tangles of theology

cleaving away bloated,

congealed rules:

The useful
the whimsical, the abhorrant

clumped together

Underneath are modest bones
creaking under the weight of scrutiny.

The ligaments:

pride

purpose
protection

identification
with something grand
making sense of the madness.

I reason,
we must cling to something
might as well be tradition.

Nana's shoes

The hurt
is teeth clenching
bone deep
oppression.

She has long known
the tyrant
all too well
adjusted,
between hatred
and indifference.

All our progress
still no cure.
How much longer
must she be in debt:

Anonymous blood
Intravenous drips
Toxic tablets

chugged down
with orange juice
and audacious prayer.

Prescripted pain killers
in pocket sized boxes
do not do
what they say
but at least
the stings of the swarm
a thousand bees
are partially quelled

Softened
by sweet poison.

Vantage Points

Something familier beckons

her nostrils pick up the promise

fatefully, she follows the lie

and swallows it.

The deceiver feels the tug

"the stars must be smiling"
though he dares not

the plucky sod
might unhook flesh yet.

It never occurs
to consider the hurt
behind the gelatinous eyes
faithful to her poker face

his heart gleefully throbs
along the flow of things
engulfed in the hunt.

By the wound,
she is yanked
out her world
into our element
writhing,
spasmodic.

He unsheathes trusty metal
surgery-sharp for the job

splits her alive
precisely down the middle

A wet snap as he rips out
unwanted insides.

Come evening, he reclines
fingers mesh snug over a swollen stomach.

Appraising delicate bones on his plate, he laments the thrill of the chase

heavan
hell
the same place.

Appropriated

Toweling droplets 

he noticed a piece of it

shining through the pane

at rest on his thigh.

They accused Newton of unweaving it

cutting the plume down to a cold prism.

He only documented revelations of a keen eye

marvelling sublime poetry 

within hard laws.

A street preacher blissfully receives the sign

on a mongral day: rainfall mixed with golden rays

The mere presence of it 

adds timber to his fiendish desire

to be counted amongst the winners

when the world shall burn.

It is a reminder of God's wrath 

and grace, 

he automates

mouthing a thankful prayer.

Young lovers of the same sex.

They see it as their coat of arms

adorning a flag to hold tight.

They brave scouling faces.

The faithful crowd

they're blood boils

to see it reframed. 

Rat's rest

Another tasteless day

spent grinding.

Tenderised flesh 

clung on creaky bones 

wants nothing more 

than to plonk 

down, wedged in the best corner 

bearing his contours.

How many years will be spent in this position

imperceptibly withering

at home in he's web

fat congeales 'round his thoughts. 

A sustained stare off ensues

Where attention goes 

so too 

energy flows, 

he and the idiot box 

suck life out eachother.

As he switched on

settled in

he knew

It would either be

mirror mirror reality 

sliced 

diced

Kitchen theatre,

Talent show business,

or all three,

combined.

The celeb, sucks aways, soaked in conceit 

desperately holding his roll up, 

he witters on 

Well aware he is the spectacle

but oblivious

the weight of his words

would not trouble an ant.

The Adorables

The Great Debater

The uninvited, knock.

With bright eyes and a sheep's smile

father invites them in

concealing his glee

he leads them to the battle ground.

Mum wears a frown

how she dreads these contests.

Father fancies himself an authority 

familier with the world's religions

and all their flaws.

He relishes this opportunity

to wax theological,

flex intellect; test his metal.

Ever ready to pick apart the good book - rock certain

Jesus Is his prophet

not theirs.

*ding*

The living room patter is cordial;

light jabs, 

all the while he sniffs for an opening

the cursory dance is soon followed

by deeper intent -

he fires a loaded question

exposing a weak link in their battalion.

The joust, as always, takes a turn.

Dad's subdued voice

now booms free of constraint.

 

"You are a congenital idiot!"

Truth springs from arguments amongst friends.

but coversation between calcified minds yields no crop. 

My wife wears a frown.

I tell her

this is why we pick things apart..

It's in our blood.

Sayings

When that thing comes alive,

       I find my pen 

gripped by the scruff of the neck;

       tweaze thorns long troublesome.  

Brush layered dirt off my chest - connect dots in the mess.

       Between cut outs of the godless
and flocks of the believers,
       the world of space is rich
for dreamers to wander.

       Contentment is a grace

of abundant little treasures.
       Life's paradox: be grateful; strive for better.

The shadow deep within - outcast - labelled as sin.

       A mine of gems inside

to feed and fuel my vibe.