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The clouds wander on the placid water plane,
Fallen dark angels, trapped in cold flat surface,
Surreal, above the slow swimming fish in the depth

My urge to wade in and stand knee-deep
Will now smash water's fragile memory
Of sun blazed cold clouds in to smithereens

The fish, unaware of all this
And an intimacy that goes beyond
Many incarnations, would tickle
Me from toe to knee, nibble till it bleeds.

Water, a memory beyond birth,
My momentary refuge, sin and redemption.
Pain that binds me with life's incessant
Yearning to go back to elements.

It's in blue water, watching her in full bloom,
Swim in exuberant mirth, I spilled my wild seeds.
And once, the ashes of my father's mortal remains
Went gently in to water, to be one with mother earth.

**Water, beginning and the end, my forgiving
Mother, waiting with stretched hands at both ends.
Featured poem, Asiawrites.org  April 28, 2011
I find as I get older
I have to censor what I say
I can't say that a happy man
Seems very, very, gay

I never got the memo
When certain words were made taboo
I never got that message
I' missed that one , did you?

My Nan would send my brother
To the shops to get her ****
I know we aren't allowed to say this
I've been told by P.C nags

I remember the old story
Of Black Peter and St. Nick
Now you can't say either one
or you'd be branded quite the *****

There, I used another one
*****, somehow made the list
Has anyone seen the memo
It's the one note that I missed

You must call someone Richard
You cannot call him ****
**** political correctness
Just brought me back to *****

If you sit and watch the telly
you can't put your feet up on a ****
that gets us back to gay again
The PC folks would hit the roof

Don't start me on Brazil nuts
Remember what we all called those ?
If I put that down in writing
I'd be PC'd in the nose

Men and Women are all persons
This PC stuff just makes me sick
But, just look at them both naked
There, I've worked back round to *****

It takes the fun out of saying swear words
You have to censor all the time
There might be a PC zealot
waiting for a language crime

So, in closing let me tell you
And I will do it with some class
They can take their PC memo
And shove it up their....buttocks (I think is the term used nowadays)!
Yes me today
got one fo those
*** ash now redundant
and man these things glow
just like a *** would

Breath deeply
Relax
yes just like, the *** smoke
and it was
and now,  i thought for a while
if someone could win
that MARIJUANA
contract it would be these.
never get married to a dragon
for my dreams have withered and died
left me felling just

U   S ed.

so my warning
is clear this day
Think once and regret
that day forever.
For my ex wife.
I encounter,
innocent
wonderment
in its
thunderous loudness,

in the eyes
of a child,
standing alone,
looking at a
giant wheel turning at
mind-boggling speed.
I flagged down the first taxi
I got in and told him where
I told him "take me home "
"I'll let you know when we are there"
He asked me which direction
I said for him to head out west
Then I asked him for a favour
I pulled a cd from my vest
I said "can you please play this"
"I'll give directions on the way"
"If you do, I'll pay you double"
There was nothing he could say
He slipped the disc in, headed out
In the direction I had said
Then I listened to the music
And let it filter through my head
Elton John, broke through the silence
singing "Take Me to The Pilot"
Two verses in, I said "turn left"
He made the turn, but remained silent
Another verse, another turn
I was sitting back, just waiting
Then he asked "Where we going, sir"
I said "home", although, 'till then I'd been debating"
Curtis Mayfield filled the background
Three verses in, we made a turn
I sat there, heading homeward
Exactly where, was no concern
We turned twice more, continued straight
Dr. John sang Iko Iko
The driver followed my commands
Turns out, his name was Nico
the songs came on, played out and he
Drove exactly where I said
You see, I've been this route before
I know the music in my head
A different disc, with different songs
Would get me home as well
The streets we chose to drive on
Well, I simply cannot tell
My route is formed through music
It fills me up and leads the way
To exactly where I need to be
Like home, the place today
The Four Seasons sang of "What A Night"
Back in nineteen sixty three
I told the driver "take a right"
It's the third place that you see
He asked if I was certain
It was just an empty lot
There was nothing there too special
I said "yeah, this here's the spot"
I paid him and I left his cab
I said "I may just see you soon"
He gave me my cd back then
He must have thought I was a loon
I sat down in the empty lot
I grew up here as a lad
My Mum and Pa, my brother too
Best times I ever had
The house came down 10 years ago
Nothing bad, just aged and rot
I still paid the city taxes
You see, I own the lot
I visit here each summer
Grab a cab and play the tunes
they take me home inside my mind
As I go visit the ruins
My Mum and Dad are gone now
Moved to Arizona three years back
My brother, in the Army
Last I heard, he's in Iraq
I sat here for an hour
Then I walked on down the block
Listening to my minds eye music
Walking slow and kicking rocks
I got down to the corner
I got in and told him where
I told him "take me home "
"I'll let you know when we are there"
He asked me which direction
I said for him to head out west
Then I asked him for a favour
I pulled a cd from my vest
I said "can you please play this"
"I'll give directions on the way"
"If you do, I'll pay you double"
There was nothing he could say...
canals and containers
vital constrictions to flow
these common constraints
we find widespread..
at start of each day
a humble cup we see
holding our morning tea..

those outward vessels
mirror many inside..
these carry surprise
in acquaintance..
not knowing 'til just now
their containment of
everflowing light..

our task..
with urgency now..
to focus awareness
on those vessels which
are ours alone..
we need a simple
introduction to those
avoided constrictions
each of us owns..
often painfully seated
in solitary places..

a dear friend's illness
with diagnosis fleeting..
in desperation at last
filtering years of
bedridden strife..
new awareness uncovered
a new container for her
illumined voice..
with gifts for many
journeys unfolding..

my own discoveries
from life's late
diggings
found vessels quietly
buried and residing in
military formations of
gold and gray and black..
these are holders now
of lights of new
scope and scale..

the vessels we own
are lined and defined
awaiting discovery
sooner or late..
illumined..
with healing in-sight
and we are enriched
in knowing
our vessels..our lights
are one...
accompanying photographs may be found at polarityinplay.blogspot.com..
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