So sweet the smell
I cannot tell.

Is it a lily or
is it the girl
next door…

The dough in the pizza pan
Becomes my heart.
And with my hand, my fist,
I strike it and flatten it.

I force it to change,
Plaster it into limp pancake.

With my palm I knead it,
But the pain which should ebb out,
Will not separate and flow away.

It stays inside the dough,
The flattened,
Moulded,
Hand-mangled dough!

Purple sheets of petal,
Softly glowing in the dark
Of almost night.

Softly touching my cheek,
the enveloping cloud
surrounds me like a neon cloak.

I can see your face
reflecting in an overflowing
purple pool of mist.

And petals gently plopping,
enveloping the image
of your loveliness.

(Jacaranda madness)

Oh  misty  green  beauties,
your  branches  sway
in hazy softness,  sadly,
against  your  black  bark .

What  do  they  understand  
Of   your  deep  mysteries?

They  don’t  even  notice
Your  simple  serenity,
or  feel  the  injustice
of  your  pain!

When  you  fall  to  the  earth
in  silent  submission
your  heart  is  seared,  
your  agony  spilt  to  the  sand,
in  an  unacknowledged  sacrifice.

Your head upon my *****
I will gently sooth and touch,
chase your fears and darkness
and lull you to a hush.

I am spent, and I am quiet
with suspended longing.
My river runs low
into cold-cold valleys.

My waiting is a bird in the sky,
turning, turning. Turning
my head from side to side
with searching eyes.

A scream wells up in me,
first fills my head
and then my room,
airtight ready-to-burst balloon.

Dark   green  depths  of  death,
where  waters  trickle  and  laugh
and  tiny  flowers  dart
in  the  sweet  fresh  breeze.

Pull  me  into  thine  un-dulled  depth
and  make  me  one  with  thee.
Blend  my  body  with  thine  earth
fashioning  a  sullen  element.

To  pause  in  a moment of fear  
and  everlasting  awe,
to drink thy beauty still
from  life’s  edge,  up  here.

Breakers in a misty grey sea-storm,
Spray-foam rising and tossing,
Plunging me into seasick momentum.

I ****** out white stretched palms
And throw back my head,
The salt air stings my throat.

It burns within my chest
While hanging feetless
In the storm driven billows.

I fix my eyes on the
pearly black cloudless night
and beg the stars to anchor me.

He’s young, so very young,
And beautiful.
Dark, broody, beautiful!
No fear in his eyes-
Only quiet confidence.

You fly by night
With sight of the owl,
You climb with your eagle machine,
Fiercely, conquering the night.
Skilfully, lovingly, victoriously!

My love for you was holy
and like a new dawn pure.
Like a green leaf on the vine,
promising to grow secure.

My love for you was instilled
by God to carry you  
on the hands of His providence
certain and strong and sure.

I anointed you with the essence
of my deepest love,
my  very being was poured into
your ultimate happiness.

My burning desire was for you
to be exalted to your best,
to be in a realm where you could
surpass mere mediocrity.

Where you could encompass the
totality of unending intensity,
feel the burning emotions
etching your heart and mind.

I afforded you more
than the Lion’s share!
With  me, you could have
walked taller than any man!

You watch me all the time
With eyes that see much more
Than the mirror often ever shows.

Softly pleading, watching quietly,
Following the purpose of my actions,
Reading me therein.

You are my mirror,
And my crazy logic
Reflects the recognition in your mind.

You understand what I cannot explain,
You are the beacon in my storm-sea.

When you touch me
You lift me high and slip me away
Into warm oblivion for one long moment…

The clickety-clack of wheels on the rail
Bring to me the reality of leaving behind
A dearness which is irreplaceable,
And unforgettable.

I remember nights
Close with you.

Safe in your arms,
Your presence filling
My consciousness.

Your dreams running
On the edges of mine,
Filled with riches
And contentment.

As a passer-by I only watch
across a darkened room,
marvelling at your healing touch
that turns the searing sting
in my burning heart to one
that doesn’t burn as much.

Are you really so far away
That I cannot touch you,
And feel the crinkles of your sleeve
Underneath my fingers upon your arm?

Would you simply look around
And turn away again,
Not knowing that I talk
To you all by myself?

Even if you could listen,
And not hear a word;
Would you know that I’m
Just a little bit crazy?

Just a little bit crazy
With longing for you.

Do  you  remember  when  we  walked
into  the  sea
and  on  the  ­sand ?
Do  you  remember
Liza  with  a  Zee
as  if  she  was  here  only  yesterday?

And­  the  people  
in  the  ports  of  Amsterdam?
You  loved  them  ­as  I  did,
As  if  they  were  flowers
someone  had  forgotten to water.

The  moments  with  you
were  the  moments  in  my  life ­ 
I  could  scarcely  forget
even  if  I  tried  to  shove  them
­into  some  dusty  hideaway  corner.
                            ­            
How  many  times  have  I  remembered,
after  forgetting  for  so  long?
As  the  wind  would  blow  an­d  stop,
and  blow  again  some  day.

And  do  you  remember
the  seabird  overhead,
trying  to  tell  us
something  about  l­ife.

With  his  voice  full of  anguish
and  loneliness-longing …
flying  high,
flying  into  realms  of  seagull  joy.
Inviting ­ us  to  join  in  heart
as  we  watch  from  far  below.

You  come  to  me  and  smile,
chasing  my  fears
into  the  corners  of  my  mind
where  I  can  not  reach  them
even  if  I  try.

And  you  comfort  me
when  you  see
traces  of  tears  on  my  face.

You are like  an  eagle’s  shadow
gliding  peaceably  
across  my  consciousness,
caressing  the  fluttering  
of  my  emotions
with the quivering of your wings.

Into  crevices  where  waters  trickle
I  let  my  soul  divide
into  brilliant  silver  threads
Along the mountainside…

And  down  below,  it  drops
Into  a  pool  so  far  beyond
Where  I  can  sit  and  seek,
Myself there-in to find.

I would that she better leave,
This temporary insanity,
And take her mad sisters also.

The one who closed her eyes
When she felt your hand upon hers.

The one who’s heart soared
When you kissed her well!

And the crazy one who asked
If staying was for ever!

I have a little thought deep inside
my heart of you.
Not unlike the laughter lifting my eyes
into your humour.
Or unlike the longing it instils in me
to stand with you
on a wild and ecstatic windswept beach,
close in embrace.
A little thought not unlike the ocean
in its magnitude.

I wish for your glorious garden to wither,
your tree to shudder and  fall in the forest.
Your stars to hang limp upon the heavens,
and your moon to turn to a sulphurous pond!

I wish for your humour to sour in your mouth!
And your thoughts to dwell in incoherent confusion,
your keen logic to become a pile of rubble,
and for happiness to elude you constantly.

Sweetly sublime
I mouth the rhyme
of the lullaby
in my heart for you.

Patiently
I whisper the words
keeping time
while I softly mime.

Could’ve would’ve should’ve…
Didn’t…wouldn’t…couldn’t…
Ultimately…will you, won’t you?

I  am  a  sight  so  sorrowful
I  cannot  bear  to  think,
what  ­little  children  feel
when  they  stumble  upon  me.

When  I  n­od  to  show  them
what  my  intentions  are,
they  turn  and  ru­n  from  me
and  watch  me  from  afar.

When  I  smile  and  bec­kon
them,  to  come  to  me,
I  sadly  have  to  see
them  cringe  a­nd  cry out loud.

When  I  beg  them  to  stop
and  listen  to  my  song,
they  look  at  one  another  
and  stare  at  me  in  awe.

Oh ­ why  can’t  they  come  closer
to  see  my  beady  eyes
a-blinki­ng  with  my  tears
wherein  my  sorrow  lies?

Oh  why  can’t  they  come  close  e­nough
to  see  my  shoulders  frail,
bent  forward  by  the  wind­
and  rain  and  storm  and  hail?

Oh  why  cannot  they  see
my­  body  hanging  limp,
a  lifeless  shapeless  pity
with  only  w­ithered  hope?

A  sad  and  lonely  scarecrow
standing  in  a  lonesome  field,
destined  to  spend  my  days
­in  endless  sorrowful  ways.

Beckon the swallows sweetly,
With a voice filled with longings
To the heavens of scented Spring.

Golden pastels painted
In sweet colours, on the face
Of night as it slowly fades.

You are
My Summer solstice.
My Winter’s
Warmth and comfort
In twilight,
At the close of day.


Far-off places
Call and beckon,
Through yearnings
In your voice.
Your eyes glow
Of midnight embers,
Your dreams
Of spangled nights.

Show me by day
The weaver’s nest.

The night’s embrace,
Beneath Orion’s belt.

I have longed for you.

As the breeze strokes
The wide Savannah,
My  violent yearnings
Like a Summer storm,
A burnished forest
In a mellow Fall,
A soaring eagle
On a sturdy wing.

So, have I longed for you!

I imagine your love
To be like the taste
Of wild-wild berries.

I imagine your eyes
To burn wildly
With fiery passions.

Your every breath
To make me shudder,
To make me yearn.

For your mouth
To gently whisper
Against my tears.

How do you resist me
When you know I love you so?
How do you say no
So easily,
so constantly
How do you always go
And just leave me be?  

Are the lies from your mouth
from your heart as well?

The lies that you give me
when you cannot tell
the secrets you guard
the fears you hold
the reason why
your heart is cold.

I love you softly,
I love you wild,
I love you with the notions
Of a trusting child.

I love you sweetly,
I love you bold,
I love you as the ancient rites
Are ceaselessly told.

I feel the warm sun upon my skin
As it penetrates and enfolds
The stark early morning cold.

And I remember how I have loved you
When my love was still unafraid,
And my hope the only flame in me.

I kept it burning high, so high;
I did not even have the faintest glow
Inside my body when it died.

I have left you far behind,
The flotsam and the jetsam
Washed up on the shore.

And you are pleased,
I’m sure, with this place
That you have chosen.

I will rise from the ashes
of this bitter love.
I will rise from the ashes
around your feet.

And leave you with
the slivers of a broken moon.
Beautiful moon and full
of haunting illusions.

For you...
I pine no more!

Who is that golden man in his golden cage?
Recognizing himself in the mirror of innocence,
Staring at his image until he is blind
And only sees the profile
Of his shadow on the wall.

He is so sweet,
He is so nice,
His heart is warm
And full of vice.

Rolling out into honey-coloured clouds
Above sun-drenched meadows.

Drifting into silences of amber light…
Where only the sky knows your heart.

Horizons shift willingly ever further
Promising joys and delight.

The auras of doubled wings, painting
Shadows over a mellowed earth.

The rush of wind lashing at my face,
Hugging me into submission.

While the soft drone rolls into a dance:
O! to dance with thee!

O! to hear the long forgotten ballads
Woven into magic melodies.

Music made by the gentle *******,
So swift and graceful on the wing!

July 1999 - flying as a passenger.

My lips are thine
and only thine
Laced with sweet honey
and blood red wine

A winged beast comes rolling forth,
‘Bout twice a night or thrice or more.
With blinking eyes from south to north,
It soars afore it’s mighty roar!

Where  once  the   grasses  played  and  ploughed,
in  faithful  winds  had  swung  and  bowed,
there  now  lie a thousand  flies  adrift …
All  choked  in  sod  and  soaked  to  death.

A million  artificial  stars
be  falling  stars  that  never  stop.

And  on  the  surface  tracks  of  dust
be  grinding  footsteps  hard  and  fast,
too  cruel  for  moon  and  earth  too last.

Groping  hands  of  eternal  fright
not  finding  what  they  ever  might .
The  treasures  they  will  no  more  find,
obstruct  their  eyes  and  make  them  blind.

                                          
Through  brutal  conscience, smog  and  fire
our  paradise   has  changed  to  mire.

I looked up into your eyes,
And I saw the heavens
And the earth. And lo,
I had erected a stone for you.

A tombstone at each of
These places, places
We had been together,
Places of sea and heather.

For you just left
On a fine day in May.

The wreath upon your grave;
Abundant flowers in a field
And the brightest stars
Adorning the heavens.

Also the tiny shell
Lying next to the pebble
That you had given to me,
Still in the pocket of the jacket I wore.

I miss you like I miss the dew
When it turns to brittle frost,
Like I miss a summer storm
When it dissipates into a calm.

I miss the feeling of the warm
In your arms securing me.

And I miss you as acutely
As I miss the dance of fire
When fall has come and gone
And the joy of Summer is lost.

You do know
that I will grow
and evolve
without you?

Do you know
that you’ll stay behind
and be all alone
as you’ve always done?

My silence is also my grief,
Forgive me my discretion.

It fails me to talk with you,
To mention your transgression.

It fails me to restore you
To where I once adored you.

It deems me guilty,
guilty,
without a choice,
without a voice.

I slip into the languid,
Red body-warming liquid,
Sinking so slowly...
Plummeting backwards
At slow-motion speed...

Through timeless fathoms
I enter a dream of gulls
On silver wings
Flapping overhead,
Drawing out screeches

Endless screeches, mingling
With my tumbling,
And tingling
With my mumbling.
Lying in a purple sea.

In the last shadows
you probe a blackness
that cannot be fathomed,
for a shaft of light
that will set you free
from the agony inside you.

To gracefully warm you,
leading you from the cold
recesses of your mind
to face a new morn
alighting in the East.

Don’t ever say
Don’t tell me,
That you’ll never
Love me ever.

Please don’t say,
That you won’t stay
Or be with me
Forever.

I’ll hush you with
My lullabies
And sooth your aching
With my sighs.

I’ll touch your lips,
Caress your cheek
With fingertips
And soothing balm.

Empty head
Filled with lead,
Spilt the beans...
Spoilt the fun.

Flatter-flutter
Pigs in the butter,
Killed the fun.
Chicken run.


Pitter-patter
Chitter-chatter.
Spilt the milk,
It doesn’t matter…

Cry no more
Like before.
Water under the bridge,
Milk is in the fridge.

Eons and eons have passed
As swiftly as swirling mists
Surround the ancient woods.

You sublimely lied to me
and then you lied some more.
You said you were not ready
as if you were before.

You took my warm intensions
and made them your soft bed.
You made your own inventions
proclaiming them instead.

Let the secret in the rosebud
Retain its secrecy,
Afore the wind will scatter
And set the petals free.

The   sea  is  forever,
as  even  now,
never  the  same.
It  stirs  and  breaks,
mends  and  unites.

From  shore  to  shore
the  same,
yet,
from  wave  to  wave
so  different.

Perhaps  it  knows
the  Why's  of  life.
Shall  I  dare  ask?
And  what  shall  I  hear?

The  fierceful  cries
of  a  thousand
seagulls  in  mine  ear!