Thursday 4 June 2020

Poem 49

a star shaped bag
from bar to bar
we waltzed
along the tram lines
i bit your lip
it bleeds
the envelope arrived
bringing news from
those etrurian places
of comfort 
the shirt barely hides
your happiness to see me
on the court bench
she sat
with the map of the past
now, useless
my nails rip your flesh
scratches on your back
one cobbled street 
becomes too many
under the archway
a shadow 
your mouth is white
from yesterday’s delight
five flights of stairs
an immaculate set of towels
from the balcony, we gazed
the silver river
now, it’s my turn
my back is sticky
from you
and wild, so wild 
those things
the window is opened
i’m cold 
the kettle whistles
breakfast time
my hand on your thigh
don’t do it, you said
the morning paper
unsettles me 
must go, to the park
and back
in the dark
playing cowboys and indians 
by the water we hid
until it’s quiet
the next day,
the red stain is missing
it never happened
yet, it did

Poem 48

i garden
you sea
hey, amaze
me
such sadness
like a frame
of an animated movie
the clock that
runs backwards
went forward
i should have
been there
but the fever
come
prostrating me
whilst
the chocolate fudge
freezed overnight
and the flowers were
thrown
to the lark
passing by
farewell

Poem 47

If there is money

There is!

Do you have a bag of it? 

If so, send it over

And then?

I would gamble it at the Casino.

Or did you thought I would re-release the record?

And then?

I would invest in the Stock Market. 

And re-release the record.

And would buy red sandals 

And then? 

I would marry a Sailor

And visit Prague 

And would play the tambourine

And then?

I would plant a cherry tree

And swim on a cloud

And would run with it

And then?

I would comply, but No

And, instead, sleep

And would photograph a memory

And then?

I would write a song

Yes, that song

And the band would play it

And the dogs would bark

And then?

I would ask you "and then?"

And spiced the leaves 

And would take the train

And then, you would ask me,

And then? Then, ... then, I would go

And smile and be me


Monday 27 April 2020

Art inspired by Waves of Anzac part of Mick Harvey's new album.

The Wasteland I (barley, red wine and watercolour on paper).

The Wasteland II (barley, red wine and watercolour on paper).

The Wasteland III (barley, red wine, crayon and watercolour on paper)

The Wasteland IV (barley and red wine on paper)

The interview with Mick Harvey about Waves of ANZAC/The Journey can be read here: 

Monday 17 February 2020

Poem 46

he looked and looked
traveled the seven seas
and the five deserts
for forty days
from nineveh to ashur
after a shower to put out
the fire of tornadoes
rattling the earth
unresting the soul
quietness eluding him
through mountains and plains
further and further
from silence, numb
uruk and ur in sight
lawrence on the bend
blue eyes turned black
skeleton, crow, crocodile
disjointed movements
demons singing lullabies
praising you
on the road to damascus
trick or treat
a russian roulette
of pomegranates
handmade in tails
of sorrow

Poem 45

Lust is always right
Demanding jealous mistress
Never ending want
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed, long dead
We all long for it
Deny it while sober
A few bourbons later
We cry for it
on a friend’s shoulder
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
No favourites, you say
Just Jenny, Mandy and Mary
Dancing
In the rear mirror
Of feelings
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
Yellow, blue, grey
Matching jumpers
Desire in a ramp
Bouncing back
To those golden days
Of imperfect perfection
A shotgun wedding
With the rule of law
Saturday I am out
Sunday you have the kids
The good seed long dead
Fallen curtain, hidden veil
Muddy waters, sweet twinge
Balacing the tightrope
Of day and night
Raised eyebrows
Unfruitful search of mellow
Evenings riddled with
Joyfull seeds of lust