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Mark McIntosh May 2015
a boy
with toys
of batteries
and musical
smiles & giggles

a bowl
of breakfast
as mum & dad
negotiate clothes
for swimming

lessons of arms & legs
the car back
to play
electronic
notes again
Mark McIntosh Oct 2015
into the rabbit hole
darkness and damp
leaves of grass brush
the queen of broken hearts
ripped from pages of a diary
chapter twenty one
you made the same mistake
will you ever learn
that those dark chambers
harbour all manner of scares
you've met before
cards and tea and hats
never reveal anything
to change you
your arm plunged into earth
feeling your way
the rabbits sunning themselves
the answers absent
still falling
there's a light at the end
of the tunnel
Mark McIntosh Jun 2016
for Andre


you arrived as she slipped
into that mysterious abyss

for weeks the void filled
with warm hope

the touch of your skin
electrically comforting

shuddering under me
something overtook your eyes

grey pools that never closed
as we kissed and I tasted

the sweet salt of your lips
a searching hunger

I felt as well
after the family funeral

we met again with my grieving
tears on your shoulder

your arms surrounding my
stammering utterings

ironing out the words with
reassurances and the indication

of something deeper
than I've seen for so long

then there was nothing
but silence and another death

our interlude broken
axe through an antherium

I had sent you a photo of
one of their flowers

the last night I saw you
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
planetarium drifts across the black
rotation of stars changing position

soft roar, a jet lifts
red light blinks into the distance

unseen southern cross
below the horizon at this hour of evening

cooler air of floating leaves                                                  
satellit­es drift on mapped orbits

tiny connections
govern all in this darkness

major explosion

invented & recorded with the silence of
space junk polluting frontiers

the vacuum of nothingness
                                                
plan­e gone

different land nearing
other meanings ascribed to night
                        
gods & other beings of fiction
trap & trick & bear false influence

dark again in a northern land                                            
planets emerge with their sparkling colours

full moon
ceremony of paper lanterns lifting heavenly
Mark McIntosh Jul 2016
dawn turns a bridge orange
puffs of grey dot the morning
sleep heads turn, birdsong
awakens narrow streets of idle cars
skyscrapers come into focus
after a silhouette
horizon of blocks
projected with limelight
onto an empty stage.

later, clouds turned white
the tips of buildings glow
against blue
an early flock dips & swoops
morning currents
brush a face that catches
this ephemeral record
the eye of a camera
records only memory

in the final scene bacon sizzles
eggs  turn into pillows
a coffee aroma guides the cook
scraping toast with butter
the plates layed out
cutlery percussion
a page turns towards yesterday's news
the neighbour's cough
another alarm
Mark McIntosh Jun 2016
faces grin from too much slim
& I try & I try
to stick tyres to bitumen
imaginary angels

float & judge & claim
to save but sell
seminars & books & arrive
in inexplicable palaces

where there's no chance
of access. the bishop spews fiction
Buddha knows
as I scratch & ink & I can't even

think he cares for desperate
shoes get the blues
& can't touch the ground
trying to fly

they all wonder why
these eyes are so distant
focused on
lost metropolis souls

screen dwellers
avoiding a sky full of ghosts
sages tell us
their truths

to take or leave & I
bite their fruit & swallow
it whole. spit out the
essence. where the juice

lies are real. nobody feels
how rubber treads without contact
how shoes last longer
how we stick to a grounding

tilling of dirt
plants sprout
flowers grow food
these muddy boots
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
water flows & flows & splutters
through a weir & a pipe on the sand
with rampant ibis & seagulls with
chips from the hands of children
an iconic beach disappoints in the flesh
the south end where nobody covers
that much skin as there's not lots
to hide while they flaunt & smoke & blister
under sun & ice-cream melts
as the waves roll & roll
Mark McIntosh May 2015
chill surrenders to sun
blazing on a sky of deepening
blue. hour of quiet gathering
batteries fallow
this city
matured in two decades
gallery guards
stalking & pouncing from boredom

behind wire people tie
balloons to funk
neighbours wake
up a renovated *****

saturday traffic gathers
swish & hum, truck
accent. weather collects wanderers
friends missing a year
reuniting like
a week passed
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
suits chugging beers
overcompensating
a man rubs his hands with a new deal
capitalist moisturiser
Jargon For Dummies
in search of some
box full of empty rooms
holding tiny humanity
pin-striped warrior factory
they're everywhere these broken moulds
******* the middlemen
fattening bottom lines
bears set free amongst steel & glass
concrete hot under summer gamma
shareholders ruling but not really reigning
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
in the mirror
a red face
coloured by wine
often white
with shock
aloe works
for a time
then another
liquid
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
i would be OK
if not for the eyes of strangers
Sunglasses black
Mark McIntosh Jul 2015
late in the afternoon
sun and moon equal
leaving the office
the rain has stopped
I brought an umbrella
incomprehensible logo
for a half hour walk
to work a phone
talking to folks
i don't know their names
i want to understand
how the missing piece
needs a special pivot
to fit properly
completing the picture
you walk down the street
the light turns red
you keep coming
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
drops from a canopy
musical falling tears
a concrete step
saturated mat against the wall
faded stripes a catchment
rivulets gather & flow
to the ledge. underneath
plants drink, leaves dusted, roots spread
bulbs replace their powers
soon they will bloom
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
in the cavern
stalactites & fireflys
illuminate
now
a library of theories

chasm cacophony
their massed odour
freshly damp
hanging in wait
for the moon's cue

headlamp highlights
campers' scraps
under earth & rock
a steady descent
strange treasures
Mark McIntosh Oct 2015
wish you had stayed
to write out the pain
memorable music
of you for us
you went under a bus
paparazzi feed magazines
pop will eat itself
mirrors reflect an animal
caught in headlights
the rabbit scurries for a burrow
down that hole
strange temptations present
shining shards catching rays
during daylight the glare severe
shows so many flaws
photoshop camoflauge
with a silkscreen we can
make that picture an icon
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
red in the streetlight
banksia holds back
garden arch reads the seasons
braille in the night

glow of a lamp
highlights some leaves
no car for miles
can only be peace
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
slowly she moves into the ether
eaten away by angry cells
rebelling, a civil war
always that way
wine glass one side, cigarette the other
result of denial, a terrorist
bringing all down around her.

there's a time when the hour arrives
to retreat & leave & spare some troops
a losing front after years of battles
back to camp behind fortified walls
abandoned enemy with a taste for destruction.

she will haul it all down
collapsing walls
burying everything
while some sun remains
a well trodden path
escape must be quick
Mark McIntosh Sep 2015
unexpected elements take you
off guard like a startled sparrow
collecting crumbs to build
a semblance of order
twigs come together and
people covet that
in certain places
frosted windows
guard against elements
wind whips up
raindrops begin
those prepared are rewarded
in unexpected ways
as simple as
arriving home wielding
an umbrella with snapped spikes
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
silent echo roars
a chasm of rock
valley empty of air
smoke from so many campfires
trapped & hanging
invisible nooses
loop & sway & attached to
nothing
trapped in lungs the planes of plumes
settle as velvet
drift around corners
tickling crevices, shrouding paths
trampled by history on horseback
beast seeks escape
from a misty tableau
sun at dawn & light weak from clouds
exit puzzle, guide lost a compass
veil descends to a river
the glass skin embraces
Mark McIntosh May 2015
in the fold of a leaf
droplets like moss
an army of dew
in early light
clubbers go home
i used to know that
the knees gave out
from the funk & dip
crackers & cheese
as the bass deepens
flaring nostrils
I forgot your number
& you forgot giving it to me
we're even stephen
the bar just registers
cashflow humming
the bank opens
what was my
pin
Mark McIntosh May 2015
conducting
from afar
the notes float

in the black
night of stars
a comet flares

seismic interludes
a moon casting
blank shadows

on a sphere
of unknown valleys
filtering the air

of rarefied mountains
scalding cobalt
the blue horizon

starts a new
day of night
with a different eye
Mark McIntosh Jan 2016
Lazarus left a final song
of mystery and awe
turning passing into another performance
recorded and acted with panache
you will always remain
a chain of memories
formative around my neck
you taught me everything
about the magic of music
about masquerades and disappearing
into another skin
to get your message across
cracked wires
you survived addiction
I am doing my best
luckily never had the funds to sink
so low
and now I read you owned a unit in Sydney
my hometown
and I would have loved more than anything
a random encounter
on the street, in a pub
just to nervously worship
at the altar of you
Mark McIntosh Oct 2015
getting to wednesday
is no great feat
you tell yourself that it is
by friday you're a hero
planning drinks
two days ahead
missing appointments
empty enough
to make space for dreaming
fifteen percent to fill with things
that leach into eighty five
counts of daydreaming
between tasks that
finance sensory explosions
to carry us into
another week
Mark McIntosh Jun 2016
late at night regrets pile up
so much ******* soaked in regret
it's hard to read the words any more
the codes of others are
jumbled static, a station difficult
to find. trying to tune into
some kind of future
a living severed by
a cruel taskmaster who beats the brow
smiling assassin
thinking of ways to cut the wine
already stripped
back to the marrow
the essencse of living is distant
stars in a stormy sky
you refused to respond when
compassion was called for
elements all out of balance
and it's too hard to know
where to go from here
the street map is so out of date
the money refuses to allow a better version
in a cul de sac a man spins
wearing glasses too dark
to find the way out
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
silver green in a night sky
i've been here before
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
baptism
from the clouds
washes away
channelling to the harbour

broken branches
in gutters
leaves strewn
across footpaths

wild urban obstacles
puddles stay
wet socks
umbrella struggles

a moment of teasing
blue drifts to
grey portents
time enough

to clear eaves
unblock drains
prepare for
another cleansing
Sydney has experienced our worst ongoing storms over the last three days. A category 1 cyclone. This is part of my current interest in minimal poems and trying to express a lot economically.
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
wreckers arrive, trucks & sledgehammers & ball
on chain, tumbling brick walls
glass cacophony
crystals of sand.

demolition early, everyday ruins, debris
piles hills, constant removal.
wheels shifting loads
burial journey.

gulls fossick mountains discarded, peck at
rocks & remnants. banister
shattered, chunks of steps, rungless ladder.
a park ascends

sarcophagus past. developer opportunity
real estate soars, minion mcmansions.
corner view of water & trees,  haven of
light & ore
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
the soothing scent of mowing lawn
back strain from lifting & hauling
concrete stepping blocks
storing another direction.

wakeful night of dreams crowding
saying things I forget.
labour betrays the promise of a tired body
assisting sleep

fifteen milligrams paid in full
moisture in a drought
the rain holds off a little longer
despite various warnings

ringing something sounding unlike bells
white noise turns the colour of alarm
it's all alright
the mantra some magic
the mantra some magic

chopping rocks
it only takes that
chain gang number not behind bars
blackbirds squawk amongst seeds of grass

gathered symbols or innocent bystanders
white friends fly
proud with the span of their wings
catching the flow.

trip on a stone
the smallest pebble snagging a shoe
lace caught beneath
hesitant step.

hussle to train with luggage heaving
straining the zip, can never hold back
a time to be quiet &
rearrange words

the lessons we hear tuning into
the night
wheels roll back home
some more washing up
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
for four days
i haven't spoken
it doesn't matter
i know they're there
flowers blooming for seasons
beautiful salt
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
drain full of peelings
broken plunger & unwashed dishes
drops sprinkle from the sky
yesterday hail
leached peas and golfballs cracked
hitting windows
perhaps reflection
back to the hills
to find freshness somehow
crusts too old to chew the grains
birds quiet in the autumnal wash
preparing for another outing of art
therapy.
ginger, shallot, chilli & chicken
rice later
something for the blood which
pumps & beats & never stops
till words release and a
semblance of peace arrives
Mark McIntosh May 2015
screen glowing
in reflection
pale complexion
after midnight
some trailers
and emails
some news
contrary views
clear window
to a point of
perspective
fading sides
falling walls
behind my
stride into
dust clouds
losing vision
altogether
Mark McIntosh Jun 2016
the new millennium a battle for scraps
lions released upon
difference, the poor, choices not those of the keepers.

a loaf of bread
tiles balanced on the heads of relations
keeping out rain

homeless, threadbare peasants huddled
soft rocks
under drone surveillance, workers

packages dropped by insidious machines
images unseen
cameras shoot too

the power of malevolence
micro bombs
Hiroshima Death Park

they visited there on a slave break
from the unseen threat
enacting punitive whims

keeping everything rare
at the headland the dam flows
into a filthy stream

outside gates of steel reinforced
minions guarding a winter palace.
inside, a committee of charlatans

votes on the next to go
for another course of degustation.
hobos cold, tired, thin

targets without crosshairs
and it's there outside
what people think they see

human robots misread a glance
some concentrated glare
only then

goose-steppers shoot
at a flinch of skin
another one down
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
in the rain everything glistens
leaves sparkle in the grey
percussion on the roof
from the radio a piano concerto
a bird twitters in the distance sounding a bell
others hidden amongst branches
awaiting the sun

holy water without gods
the cycle of seasons
easter always wet with renewal
and a cross to bear
books of invented legends
rules to ignore
apart from ten

shining pastels and white
innocence discarded
there's a walker passing the fence
covered for this weather
treading slowly with an end in mind
there's a door in the distance
a key under a stone
Mark McIntosh May 2015
images from
a playwright
and actors
insecurities
amongst alps
snake cloud
phenomena
drifting gradually
into the valley
mist lengthens
assistant disappears
reflecting text
in a new
production
a final frame
the older star
concentrating on
space
Mark McIntosh Oct 2015
explosions muffled by distance
colour sprays the sky
another weeknight
no cause for celebration
patterns spread across the horizon
black and white
leached of feeling
wondering what the occasion
I am missing is.
heading outside
smelling smoke
seeing mirrors
the conjurer designing displays
distracts me momentarily
until I remember again
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
when it hits
when the winding road leads to
a cul de sac
reverse & don’t park

later at night, wines on board
didn’t pay the extra leg charge by
the exit
child whines & grizzles for land

solid foundations covered by
mountains & waters
everthing flows down streams & creeks &
all the rivers join

heart pumps, lungs release, fins stomp
over rocky ground, pillars
hold up the whole, stop the waters
receeding, keep them

propping all up. venice in winter
canons fire, lead ***** explode
around people I love. look in the
mirror, see what stares back

a smear on the face of a guilty reflection.
pool of calm lake
narcissus new zealand. glow & frown
& pull in the fish
from holidays in the Corrimandels, New Zealand.
Mark McIntosh Jun 2015
when I think of rock
a curtain of waterfall
an endless footnote
Mark McIntosh Jun 2015
in the doubtfull blue
black wonders of the planet
print of the feeling
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
stem of orchid jewels
hearts white. fronds dangling caressed
clouds obscure. Judas gifts wrap
kitchen. bromeliad pool &
bird chorus, cocteau twins, unwound
clock. himalayan surveyor measures
watercolour, telescopic insight
ginger of blue flowerless season
changing, renewed construction
seeds bloom, a winter pose. house of
possibilities in clear air, away from here
barbeque covered, herbs sprout flavour
zen stone feature a cat’s new bed
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
reading runes
game of stones
anxious
since returning
sharing rent
rarely leaving
apart from rations
full fridge
iced over
a pick chipping
softly mining
buried treasure
such facets
licked lips
a spoon chinks
another pan
Mark McIntosh May 2015
flying away
for a time
warmer climes
those who matter
with a baby
I'll be new
wth a case
of clothes
adorning wine
in an unknown
house then
I can picture
friends in their wild
like they
see me
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
for Katie



martini of elderflower in a dimly
lit room. 40s tune plays with feminine
harmonies lifting a room. green
tiles and floor lamps, a yellow glow.

alcoves of lounges, retro chairs
contain saturday groups on long
weekend splurges. V glasses, colourful
concoctions, buzz of the mix

in several quiet corners. chatting with
Katie, a beacon in darkness with
infectious regard for pictures and
words. talking planets and spaceships,

a fictional odyssey, silicon storm in
ridiculous glasses. rosemary’s baby, a
theme cocktail infused with thought.
film screen and text gets

the message across. early alarm means
an 8pm ending from hours of
wander and lovely therapy. parting hug
warms a deep fried heart,

plans to disco inferno at a melbourne haunt
in the midst of sydney. donna left,
everyone remembered. amy goes
back to black. records spin. i feel loved
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
lovely fat free words
strung together randomly
just may mean something
Mark McIntosh Apr 2015
so many hopeless
musings of yearning writers
scrolling many screens
Mark McIntosh May 2015
postmodern theories
about words and sentences
make strange bedfellows
Mark McIntosh May 2015
something writlten now
might forever be published
because I typed it
Mark McIntosh May 2015
a little red sip
contains the entire paddock
where the grapes were grown
Mark McIntosh Mar 2015
overhead squawk of cockatoos
ominous warning of a flight toward freedom
yellow crests flutter in changeable weather
tableau of leached blacks.
half a white disc dissolved
brings anxious, involuntary spasms
not camouflaging venitians
floating on canals, oblivious to currents.
dreams arrive in a dead night
of wakeful & unordered surprises.
busy memories paint cartoon oils
in monochrome.
at dawn a grey horizon
not the blazing yellow orb
of Sunday awakening when possibilities were served
with fruits at breakfast.
riding tracks of the past
a quiet carriage & a mind cacophony.
in the centre potential for
an accord of calm melody
of simpler notes to play.
conductor announcing upcoming stops
unwanted concerns echo through valleys
Written in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, Australia.
Mark McIntosh Jul 2016
sun of muted
awakenings
the city hidden

crows squawk
the morning rain
commuters again

an endless snake
headlights
tailgate red

a jet roars
with its cargo of
weary passengers

followed by another
boom
of metallic wings

everything flying
this way & that
neglecting a puddle

wet sock
begins to soak
a damp shift
Mark McIntosh Aug 2016
the sad trumpet makes
everything of nothing

a saxophone riff collects the air
draws on changing moods

dips & swings & halts & starts
changing tempo for effect

finding another layer
of notes and improvised melodies

without beginning, middle or endings
many of all

drums keep the line threading
a piano core

conducting with fingers & nods
painting in blue
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