Inside of us you should always reign
with poetry given the main game
the lamenting heart of a stars heart
like chorus in a distant land
echoing through your star lite chamber
Compassionate parts of poetry of tomorrow...
Capable of infinite sorrow
expressive eyes that see
such kindness
as much as me...

To be special in an indifferent world
makes no difference in your million years
In the mire of your worlds
you hang on to every syllable
when hurt comes in shades
you write and weep in your poetry...
A poet's life, not understood
many shake their heads and go
as each poet's days on paper are born
carrying a message to another's day
the immortal message maker of beauty
fires the souls of God's art, that cries for me...
Through my poetry my heart has grown
contacts are many that share their life
seek their poetry through each strife
sweet to all our visions giving air of love
surrounded by a blazing sphere of sweet doves ..

Mechanically he put out his best press
Straightened his yellowing pages
In spite of little pieces flaking off
Like dandruff

Ow !
His spine was not as strong
As in younger presses

He bathed and used aftershave
But still he had that musty air about him

He lay claim to nervous fame
As he fidgeted with the book markers
About to be given as gifts
For her , his blind date

She came in fresh in expectation
Her beauty made him full of dejection
Her cheerful voice proved
to be more than exhaultation

He fumbled for the first sentence
Of subjection , but
Managed only to say
"Please ! I'm just an open book to be read"

She eased over
And ran her fingers over his cover .
down his bindings ,
then inside his yellowing pages

She sighed ,
with pleasure ,
"Yes , this is my perfection "

Surfer Grandson Smoker
Manager Traveler Father
Daughter Cook Teacher
Mother Reader Lover
Trainer Son Painter
Volunteer Exhibitionist
Santa Claus
member of a fishermen club
tomorrow
or you name it
if you still have air

we left ourselves outside
alone with these explosive days
blind witnesses
have buried their faces
into the desert of time
the concentration of pain
remains a universal constant
the world is a helpless arena
of master plan illusions
what shall I become
or what shall be consumed of me?

and these rupture faults
body-dynamite against ego-dynamite
culture crushing nature versus
nature crushing culture
the soul famine
in the book
of unknown faces

we were all just enlivened cells once

while we feast in our blood
the discreet continuities
remain hidden
identity encapsulated
in the wave length
of supernovas egos

poetry is left with this
apparent nonsense
camomile turns into laughter
and the pride of butterflies
deserves better

this rhythm consumes us
faster than the speed of dreams
the speed of thought
the speed of forgetting
how our mothers
were never healed

to be or not to be simple
that’s a question

It is always easiest
not to think for yourself.
Find a nice safe hierarchy;
burrow in cozy and comfy.
Don't suggest changes;
never risk disapproval.
It's always easiest to let
yourself be governed.
So what if it makes you a coward.
Nothing is ever your responsibility.
Trust God, the Rich and their Police.
They will keep you warm and safe
until they don't need you anymore:
And then O how surprised you will be.

~mce

What's arsenic?
Lydia asked

she broke the word down
into two components
making it sound  
a bit rude

it's a poison I think
I said

POISON?
she said loudly

we were walking up
Meadow Row
it was Saturday morning
and we were
on our way
to Saturday matinee

why?
I asked
looking at her sideways
taking in her lank hair
and thin frame

my mum said this morning
that she'd put arsenic
in my dad's tea
and poison can **** you
can't it?

can do yes
I said

and where does
she get it from?
Lydia asked

don't know
chemist I expect
it's a sort of chemical thing
I said

what if she gets me
to buy it
will I be arrested
for helping Mum
poison Dad?
will I hang
if I'm found guilty?
she said in desperation

we crossed the bomb site
off Meadow Row
over rough bricks
and rubble

I think she was kidding
just saying it
I said

she sounded serious to me
Lydia said

why'd she say it?
I asked

my dad came home
drunk again last night
singing at the top
of his voice
in the Square
I'll walk you home
again Kathleen
and  Mum was none
too pleased

I see
I said
looking at her
as we walked
the faded flower dress
she wore had seen
better days
and the cardigan
of off white
had only two buttons
I don't think
you can buy
arsenic that easy
these days
and they wouldn't sell it
to a nine year old girl
I said

they wouldn't?
she said

no not these days

but what if Mum buys it
and kills my dad?

she won't
she loves your old man
too much
I said

I don't think she does
Lydia said
not this morning any way

we walked across
the crossing and along
the New Kent Road

if she does
I said
and your old lady hangs
then I'm sure
my mum will adopt you
as my sister

Lydia looked at me seriously
I don't want
to be your sister
she said
I want to marry you
when we're older
and I can't marry
my brother can I?  

I looked ahead
as we approached
the ABC cinema
I guess not
I said

the thought hadn't entered  
my little boy's head.

I hear you in the silence of another lunar cycle
       your predatory stare scares me to death
  the intimacy we share writes like
the history of a "Divine One"
    the Michelangelo of modern times
you promised me healing as you
           studied me intently
  eyes filled
a storm drain overflowing with rain
  your gaze no longer reflected
        in the glass
   you are now stood by

  at just thirteen you held my soul
  on rose pillows of chiffon fabric
you were more than just the oxygen I breathed
    you were the beauty I saw in
    every dark haunting thought
my mother told me that my
    primal wishes were the most childish
  fantasies she had ever heard
a pure example of human interaction
                 I yet again
       misunderstood.

© Sia Jane