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Ski Jumping**

Leaning forward, body parallel to the skis
arms neatly by the side
hands pressed in tight; flat
down the ***** he goes into the unknown
flying free
for a few moments
landing as far as he can
then arms aloft in triumph.
How do you begin such a journey?
Armchair bound we are
never to speed down the icy *****
eyes and goggles peering down and down
ready to fly, see the sky.
Yet in a moment we can be there
down the ***** in our minds
unburdened from reality
no years of practice or skis to heft
no chance of failure.
We can fly on the ski ***** of the mind
an adventure of the imagination
synapses firing neurons glowing
and so let it be with death and life
down the ***** jumping, arms aloft
into tomorrow, into the unknown
alone, down the *****, jumping.


Malcolm F. Davidson October 11th 2013
I cannot feel my legs and my mind is numb
I refuse to hear your breath and my mouth is dumb
I can feel your hands, but I am not here
For I have gone away now

Away, to where you cannot find me, the real me
To a place where i finally feel safe, where i can be alive.

I have switched off my soul to survive this place
My flesh is detached and floats away from my face
I can sense your thrusts, in a different world
You may touch my body, not me.

me, that was a long time ago, before
Before the monster that paid a visit at night.
Now look inside me, and see the curdled mother's milk
that courses through my veins.
Twisted molecules of white, distorting purity of thought.

Do you really know how you destroyed my life
With your fatherly tone and that emotional knife
Held up to the heart of a vulnerable girl
Oh, how I wish I were dead

and yet, part of me is, for some of my life is over
Bud plucked, never to bloom the flower of unbridled youth

The black hole of the past pulls me back to those arms
I struggled so hard against those paternal charms
Alas, what chance a girl, who loved daddy so much
Please make my pain go away.

But it won't, deep inside, under granite blocks of hate
Hate for you and hate for me, how did we let this happen?

Grown up now, and struggling to cope
Life seems so hard I often have no hope
it all looks so black, here within my soul
Oh, to wipe the slate clean.

A vehicle of love used as a weapon of betrayal
How sick we all must be!

Half  forgotten memories jump out of  my mind
Oh how they came, and when you were so kind
Couldn't you see how tormented I was
God help me, for no one else will.

Time does not heal my angst, nor will it ever
You and you, father and friend will you ever comprehend?

Chameleon colours play a role in my life
Artificial boundaries, coping with strife
keep out tomorrow and push away the past
but somehow today sneaks on in.

i have left my body now, detached, flying away to safety
All males left behind, good and bad, partitioned off

Even as I ignore it, the past comes right back
biding its time for a surprise attack
How can I cope with this onslaught of love
So get out of my life right now.

The past, the past, those nights, oh revulsion, oh confusion
Lust, love, like, remorse, pain, a wailing cacophany of lost childhood.

I attempt to embrace a man, maturity found
But I lose my nerve, looks like dangerous ground
An immense struggle for a girl so fragmented
Can I ever become whole?

I wear my clothes, loose around my body
Passion and pain walled off from prying eyes.

Alone, am I sentenced to spend my life alone
for who will throw this dog an intimate bone ?
I need the courage to embrace my shadows
oh please help me face the past.

The light of your affections just cannot reach my soul, deep inside
The escape velocity of my sanity is not enough

I so want to let go, have my feelings reign free
Yet I can't, for the hurt residing deep within me
Imagine, for a minute, the cross that I bear
No wonder, I stay out of sight.

You see, i only feel connected when i am alone and safe
Yet i so yearn to love and be loved, vulnerable.

Finally, today I held you tight and felt your manhood
and it did not remind me of my childhood
Agony past and pain retreated
Will this last forever I ask?

Those boundaries that were so cruelly invaded
by one who said "I love you",  left me exposed.

So brick by brick I built up my self esteem
Self confidence at last, but is it all a dream
Open my eyes, will this all fade away
swept off on the winds of self doubt.

One step at a time, out from the abyss, that cave of betrayal
I will hold this moment tightly and treasure it.
Dare I believe in this place called trust?
A handhold hacked in the rockface of my tortured mind
Will it bear the weight of tomorrow's reality?
I can only  hope the silver thread that pulls me up
shall guide me forever forward
away from that sickness of him who is left behind.
I am a survivor and I shall reach the summit
of life's possibilities, although I have to tell you
Base camp did not help my journey!
The Circle of Life**

Creation
Womb
Cradle
Room
Apartment
House
Apartment
Room
­Bed
Dead
Coffin
Ground
Creator
Bound
Chinese Firecrackers

Celebrate New Year with firecrackers|
lunch time is good
the smell of food mixing with gunpowder|
loud noises
drown out the clack of chopsticks
red paper
strewn around is all that's left
apart from the ringing in the ears


Malcolm Davidson Feb 12th 2013

Chinese New Year**

Chinese New Year is all around
red lanterns hanging from the trees
people laughing, boisterous
everyone goes home for the holidays
to share rice together
one big family
you can feel it in the air.

Malcolm Davidson Feb 1st 2013
His mother bought the wool in skeins
with four children to clothe
knitting was so much less expensive
than buying woolens in the store
and who counted the hours spent
with the needles click clacking
plain and pearl in fancy patterns.

Every few months he would stand there
in front of his mother, hands outstretched
shoulder width apart
spindly arms and legs
holding the loop of wool
seemingly endless as he, in rhythm
with his mother, unwound the wool
onto the ball growing bigger
each length left his outstretched fingers
swaying in sync with the reeling in
at the finish, when he could go off and play
read a book, follow his early adolescent urges
running and jumping
he would imagine the ***** of wool
one for an arm, the sweater, a gift for Christmas
another for the old man’s winter woolie
his ganzy as he called it
keeping his rotund figure warm
despite the bracing wind
reaching into the bones
pulling out the last remnants of summer warmth

The son is older now
and all those jumpers are gone
cast into the past, a memory
sitting and standing
in rhythm together
creation and warmth
love and the click clack of needles.
If  I could move on tapered wing
By feathered flight my mind would soar
To see this world through minted eye.

The social walls that kept me out
Those haughty souls, cigars alight
I’d see behind their curtains drawn

And share the fear that fills the glass
The pompous sound from marbled hall
That drowns out noise from shantied town

I’d fly a thread so fine and strong
Connecting all from shore to shore
Gossamer winged this sound would go

The sound of love transmitted long
From soul to soul, be young or old
To resonate within us all

And each would clasp the filament bright
And feeling strong from each to each
We’d all embrace as cheek to cheek

Yes, if  I could fly on tapered wing,
I’d glide through clouds of inner self
And find the light that waits within.
Fingers and thumbs tapping out messages
so many texts written, so many read, smiles apart
faces, eyes, feelings, never shared
music videos; lips and music separate
empty sounds, never tugging the heart strings.

Thumbs and fingers keying in distance
so much data, so little experience shared, time apart
laptops, smart phones, processing emptiness
unfeeling, sampling blandness, subtleties lost
empty words, crowding our lives.

Curves, flowing lines and spaces, passion
compressed
squashed out are the senses
sweat and smells, laughter lost.

All in the empty kingdom of bits and bytes
reigned by the gods of technology
the mantra being faster, faster
but still
all fingers and thumbs in the affairs of the heart.

As surely as we are propelled forward
into tomorrow
we hurtle
back to the dark ages
the dark castles of aloneness
Empty words, lost in the cells of our separation
all fingers and thumbs.

— The End —