shoki - Hello Poetry

you came to me as a friend of a friend but by evening we we driving 140 through a glass of honey whiskey sharing stories of gardens, memory family ties and beehives you kept me golden and flowing towards you to the sea we could not see but heard breathing until 4am when the moonlight broke through the Tudor windows the tree's shadow etched against your skin and then we waited until we met again by Harlau lake with honey on your lips you made empenadas and we played a game of cards where you learnt past tense and I learnt more of you we drove out of town made out in my car watching headlights pass by lighting up your eyes it was only the present we needed then

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Jul 29, 2025

Jul 29, 2025 at 1:21 AM UTC

Two Weekends

you came to me as a friend of a friend but by evening we we driving 140 through a glass of honey whiskey sharing stories of gardens, memory family ties and beehives you kept me golden and flowing towards you to the sea we could not see but heard breathing until 4am when the moonlight broke through the Tudor windows the tree's shadow etched against your skin and then we waited until we met again by Harlau lake with honey on your lips you made empenadas and we played a game of cards where you learnt past tense and I learnt more of you we drove out of town made out in my car watching headlights pass by lighting up your eyes it was only the present we needed then

30

Shimmer tucked behind a yearning— faces of strangers on familiar footpaths, benches. Some frown, burrow into pockets, handbags, buses, and age concern, kids kicking the tills. A hand in lost goods, a river crossing, a bike in the stones. They take and they take and they take and they take— they take. Till death on the stairwell of a house party. So ka whawhai tonu mātou— ake, ake, ake... ake, ake, ake. Go as far as you can drive on a tank of gas, taking the gravel road so it kicks up and spits in the sideways rain, the everywhere rain, the anywhere sky. Close your eyes at the brink of eclipse. To see a red jaguar in a garage, doors barricaded, a note that says: "I have no intention whatsoever to harm myself." Yet the crunch of autumn begins again, and oh— the joy of finding white rose petals at the bus stop.

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Feb 10, 2025

Feb 10, 2025 at 6:19 PM UTC

Anywhere Sky

Shimmer tucked behind a yearning— faces of strangers on familiar footpaths, benches. Some frown, burrow into pockets, handbags, buses, and age concern, kids kicking the tills. A hand in lost goods, a river crossing, a bike in the stones. They take and they take and they take and they take— they take. Till death on the stairwell of a house party. So ka whawhai tonu mātou— ake, ake, ake... ake, ake, ake. Go as far as you can drive on a tank of gas, taking the gravel road so it kicks up and spits in the sideways rain, the everywhere rain, the anywhere sky. Close your eyes at the brink of eclipse. To see a red jaguar in a garage, doors barricaded, a note that says: "I have no intention whatsoever to harm myself." Yet the crunch of autumn begins again, and oh— the joy of finding white rose petals at the bus stop.

27

it's here again the thick ache of winter weight of remembering a hibernating panic cracked hull of the seed the Fourth season a strange winter in the desert hearts painted in rose madder dye your laughter clinging like roots of the Ghaf tree water, water below waste not what can grow sand sweeping across the sand sand sweeping across the sand

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Jun 6, 2022

Jun 6, 2022 at 9:27 AM UTC

Dunes of Liwa

it's here again the thick ache of winter weight of remembering a hibernating panic cracked hull of the seed the Fourth season a strange winter in the desert hearts painted in rose madder dye your laughter clinging like roots of the Ghaf tree water, water below waste not what can grow sand sweeping across the sand sand sweeping across the sand

14

Seasons of idolism, eyes down Tidal motion of extinctions In and out, in and out, Faster, faster Borne from asymmetry The present moves Now towards the median Aggregation of experience When can I grow into The shell of what was Collecting rain drops In a glass outside my window

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Sep 23, 2019

Sep 23, 2019 at 3:37 AM UTC

Simulations, VR

Seasons of idolism, eyes down Tidal motion of extinctions In and out, in and out, Faster, faster Borne from asymmetry The present moves Now towards the median Aggregation of experience When can I grow into The shell of what was Collecting rain drops In a glass outside my window

12

Lived this life too many times Seen it all, cascading minds You don't see what I see, You don't see what I see Have I given it all away? Have I given it all? Another fall, another time Another fall, another time

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Aug 2, 2018

Aug 2, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC

Behind the eyes

Lived this life too many times Seen it all, cascading minds You don't see what I see, You don't see what I see Have I given it all away? Have I given it all? Another fall, another time Another fall, another time

8

Archeangel, cindering pheonix impartial to idols, diguises want burning want point at difference, crisis proxy of accumulation swim out to sea, swim out to sea fractured, vacant shooting ghosts in the dark

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Jul 20, 2018

Jul 20, 2018 at 11:20 PM UTC

Want burning want

Archeangel, cindering pheonix impartial to idols, diguises want burning want point at difference, crisis proxy of accumulation swim out to sea, swim out to sea fractured, vacant shooting ghosts in the dark

10

"The text is typical. It's like a speech whose units mold like a dropping of a secretion. And since he is here a glottic gesture, work on oneself of the language, the element It is the saliva that also sticks units to each other. The association is a sort of slimy contiguity, never a reasoning or symbolic appeal; the goop from the hazard makes sense, and progress pace by small tremors, grasping and suctions, veneer - in every sense - and slippery *********** In the mouth or along the column. "

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Feb 22, 2018

Feb 22, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC

Extracts from Glas

"The text is typical. It's like a speech whose units mold like a dropping of a secretion. And since he is here a glottic gesture, work on oneself of the language, the element It is the saliva that also sticks units to each other. The association is a sort of slimy contiguity, never a reasoning or symbolic appeal; the goop from the hazard makes sense, and progress pace by small tremors, grasping and suctions, veneer - in every sense - and slippery *********** In the mouth or along the column. "

2

This house is a melody of illusion, each world ends at the walls. The windows are unnatural, pigeons are blind to the glass. Outside, they pull at the wires like guitarists picking strings. Into the electric nothing, playing old songs again. Break of living flickers, the science of self prophecy. When I meet myself in the mirror, I do not see what you see, the glass unfolds itself on me. Sometimes love is sharing darkness; azure, innocent eyes of night, tender as waiting. Along trails in city parks, identical sparks of eternity. It is this, the farce of identity, that weaves a veil between you and me. The unraveling of sophistry, senseless, fractal, transactions carved into the ice of time.

0

Oct 16, 2017

Oct 16, 2017 at 5:04 AM UTC

After future

This house is a melody of illusion, each world ends at the walls. The windows are unnatural, pigeons are blind to the glass. Outside, they pull at the wires like guitarists picking strings. Into the electric nothing, playing old songs again. Break of living flickers, the science of self prophecy. When I meet myself in the mirror, I do not see what you see, the glass unfolds itself on me. Sometimes love is sharing darkness; azure, innocent eyes of night, tender as waiting. Along trails in city parks, identical sparks of eternity. It is this, the farce of identity, that weaves a veil between you and me. The unraveling of sophistry, senseless, fractal, transactions carved into the ice of time.

23

Off that windy bay wharf, where old poets speak to lost walkers, you dove into aporia Morality the highest myth dreaming conquered by Capital shelter replaced by property the immaterial, theft by sophistry a bay carved from jade, crescent moon. horizon cradling distant storms waves upon waves accelerating towards the shore.

0

Aug 21, 2017

Aug 21, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC

Don't talk about Politics

Off that windy bay wharf, where old poets speak to lost walkers, you dove into aporia Morality the highest myth dreaming conquered by Capital shelter replaced by property the immaterial, theft by sophistry a bay carved from jade, crescent moon. horizon cradling distant storms waves upon waves accelerating towards the shore.

11

Give me some other world to sip at, this one is diluting. This is how we dance A row of tombstones; economics? Market of waste, reinvent me. Aligned, invisible, gothic Encased in amber necklaces Suspended animation I will wait for years. Frozen for renewal. At every chance, the prospect of lightning calms the heart.

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Aug 20, 2017

Aug 20, 2017 at 8:12 PM UTC

Amber

Give me some other world to sip at, this one is diluting. This is how we dance A row of tombstones; economics? Market of waste, reinvent me. Aligned, invisible, gothic Encased in amber necklaces Suspended animation I will wait for years. Frozen for renewal. At every chance, the prospect of lightning calms the heart.

12