an inscription on the side of the door
that I didn't see
upon entering


I like visiting you when you spit real
you hop from moon to moon
and never tire of handing out
your remarkable brand of smiles
as you go


you see
the thing is, you
are probably the most rare
of humans
I've ever known
you're the kind of person
I didn't realise it till now
I've always been on subconscious search for
no longer bereft of beauty
I am



so many sides
and so much fire
sometimes, it's hard
to keep pace
with mental fireworks

out on rocky shores
some sweets can cut the tongue
my feet edge tentative
over uneven edges
and move forward
slowly


there's a golden child in a tunic
who walks miles to learn of this wonderful world
which dips its ever-pen into the inkwell-head
of innocence
polluting the sweet waters there
changing for all time
the complexion of healing time

there's always hope in the smile of a child
thank heavens for the eyes of children
yet, look what we do...


yes, he's walking to his next lesson
if he only knew what waits
when he grows up
something inside will die
something so beautiful and deeply precious
will simply perish

when we grow up, we actually die
innocence is replaced by blasé crap

young girls are advised to carry
silver spoons hid in drawers
to spark their chaperoned freedom
sleeping families never wake
as silent clouds settle insidious
placed by forces
no cherub wants to meet
the wicked are pardoned by the blind
and yet another child is trapped
and Babel's tower lives once more

the world is such
we **** our own
for the merest pretext

yet hope must live
keep candle of humanity lit


taking the time to find
that beautiful inscription
a prayer of infinite beauty
follow the steps to your heart
love comes
to light*




S T,            25th augs

(totally unedited)



what is this madness in the world??
how is this even happening??
so, we have not enough scourges...??
matters little what creed or colour

these are human beings
just like you and me
and children...

no, this is insane
perhaps I have not enough in me
to understand this level of madness
to cope with this


this is insane




st64......thurs, 22 aug

yonder wave wants to come on in
can't make it go away
try so hard to chase away
steel reserve



1.
don't come cryin' on yo broken shins
who dat talkin' ova der?
yo muvva just ain't home rite now
take ya scraggy bags
and vamoose outta here

pick up dem rings 'round yo trappin' eyes
      and lasso 'em round dat red fin
tackle yo chapped lips
      afore dem ships fall in yo calyx-cracks
quit dat naggin' *****-mouth
      here, have dis apple, ma piggie
and dems eyes o' yours dat shine so brite
       might as well switch off dat lite
hide dem leather-hands dat look like dry branches
      wat, even da desert don't win dis contest
pack dat stupid head in a box
      der ain't nuttin' inside a see-through noggin
hide dem silly hopes under a hevvy sea
      or bury it under da soles of yo crazi hart
take yo blasted treadin' to some udder place
      some dark mine where dey can use yo help
and all dem purty words on pages yo just lurve a-spewin'
      ain't no party here for fools no more


2.
den, der some funny rhydm 'gainst ma door
pushin' dat big wave
pushin' dat big wave
I'm a-pushing back jest as hard
but dat wrestlin' wave jest a-growin'
keeps a-knockin'
always rockin'
gonna come crashin' rite in

ain't no good wishing, ma beloved darlin'
so many fine dreams
running silent
in dem luvverly veins under yo kick-startin' tongue


yah, yonder waves gonna make a breakthrough
some day...
(mebbe)*




S T, 21 augury 2013

take a chance
on .... the unlikely
and wake unto
deliverable posts
to magique


cyber dream to life
green grid illumines
when portal's engaged
in tele-heartbeats
well beyond sky-wishes

rise
go forward
think openly
touch the improbable


no holds barred
as con-tac-tix
spells
pure contact //
tactile pleasure
and
lively ... tactics*



S T, 14 August 2013

the cost
of
'a post-strophe fee'
is a pouted heart
placed in parentheses

(yet still on that ledge:)



1.
like the tail of a kite
caught on a wire
or high branch of a tree
waiting to be eased off
and breezed out
free
it hangs upside down
seeing *'everything'
tipsy-style
as its force is slow-drained


2.
this apostrophe
is
the mere tail-end
of a dragon
(in a pit of exhaustion)
dragged in deepest-red ink
leaving an inimitable trail
with emphasis on sincerest care

brackets are just (two curves)
which jealously guard
all what lies inside
while giving so much
love in indivisible power-curls


3.
better to
let nature runs its course
of rivers flowing
and wild winds
while beetles walk on stones
yet
while trying to make a mark
with missives in the sand
the waves make sure
to wash them all away

best then
to let know
in this now
that some things never die
(it's enough for veracity to flap its weary wings)


4.
flee then
this finest core-duel likely
there's always..maybe
the next now

(all the previous
were not quite squandered
in cold flight
but unexpected loss)

and
no use hiding from one's (own) shadow
for kites will take off
and fly high
in the sun
where shadows have no place to hide





futile wondering
if it really
(has to)
spell
catastrophe

it does not




(it really does not :)



S T. Saturday. 27 July 2013

soft blonde curls around you
like a halo
warmest smiles one could ever know
from the heart


You said in your elephant grass poem
“peace is less than me
and more than you
but we are almost free”

I find it hard to accept
such bright light snuffed out
so soon

May your light shine on
Sweet Masikani
Teej-light is sorely missed here



will see you
in the stars one day*



S T, 26 July 2013

Claw beneath your ribs
Hold down wild you
Just for a little while
Feel the anguished flutter
Begging these gruff hands . . .


1.
Fear takes commotive hold
Makes wooden legs
Delayed dance…..so delayed
Causing silent attendance of synchrony

No use stepping out for flight just yet, if alone
Will meantime practise wing-span
                           iron out brittle energy
                           attempt to fortify links
                           ..

2.
Careless snubs to fragile sapling
Did *absolutely nothing
To the course set out
Only hypocrites squander even half-truths
and wallow in obsequious words
rendering paralysis and decay

I will continue to claw beneath your ribs
Covert trove awaits us
In the tormented form of
Crashing waves on a broken coast
Hacked to near-distraction by potent searching


3.
Loss is not wasted
unseen by its absence:
evocative presence felt …with penniless eyes

I challenge you to visualise our melting:
                 perched on fate’s right shoulder
                 re-sent to this basic arena as buoyant token
                 summoned by that primordial, blue light
                 ..



the sun may well baulk and melt
at the ruddy sight of
such intense clawing beneath your ribs
(like your customary digging into my bristling blades)

To find my foetal place
within the calling drumbeats
of imperative you . . .




S T, sunsday . . . 21 July 2013

Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shimmering blaze of every step up.

So many live on and want nothing,
and are raised to the rank of prince
by the slippery ease of their light judgments.

But what you love to see are faces
that do work and feel thirst.

You love most of all those who need you
as they need a crowbar or a ***.

You have not grown old, and it is not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out its own secret.

Rainer Maria Rilke / The Book of the Hours
(translated by Robert Bly: German)




S T, 20 July 2013

some rather dark nights
seems the moon's on vacation . . .

1.
Look, here comes courage
Dragging the moon in its teeth
While stars dapple in its tangled fleece
Go on, you!
Go and put the moon back up in the sky
Where it belongs

2.
Tenebrous nite falls on square
Yet a caged moon shines courageous slivers
Most haunting melodies
Then that dark figure appears
Trying to steal it away

With black birds flapping round him
Like a sombre halo over him
He slinks off into the welcoming shadows.

3.
Girl with long blonde plaits
sits on water-lily petal-pads
In the middle of a mild mere
Mauve moon lies tame in her still palms
But the wrong notes suddenly play out
Harmony not quite jacked up

4.
Elemental whirlpool explodes
As sceptred figures hunch in red dust
A flash of green sky
white elephants drown in shallow puddles
angels sit on the edge of blue teacups
while thoughts crisscross

and moon hops away
galaxial order pleased


put the moon back
where it belongs

let it hang there . . .
in the sky*




S T, 20 July 2013

oh.have.the.heart.to.welcome.a.stranded.soul

1.
If you’re given the jolly gift of a green ribbon
Would you use it as a link to answers
Or to hang your pretty neck?

2.
If a tree has been yearning to the sky for more than sixty years
Would you now stub out your ciggie in its folds
Or embrace its giving energy?

3.
If such books have been written many millennia ago – saying a multitude
Would you shut your ears to debate and follow blindly
Or respectfully ask bold questions?

4.
If a man kneels repentant in the dust to wipe your shoes
Would you offer a hand up
Or trample on his fingers and spit on his bent head?

5.
If the insipid cashier annoys your sensibilities
Do you leave it unattended
And later sickeningly vent and shout at the wrong one at home?

6.
If a once-beautiful cat lies dead in the road
Would you let your rapid wheels contribute to its *messy mince
Or do the ***** job of humanely scooping away its remains?

7.
If a powerful dream comes mayhap to honour you
Would you ignore its seemingly-confusing message
Or follow its signals (in a maze)  to certain life-enhancing enrichment?

8.
If constant calamity touches your being on stretched resources
Would you keep popping those three sublinguals with alarming ease
Or try to surrender and accept the pain under arborescent canopies?

9.
If an old woman suffers a stroke in the heart of festivity
Would you refrain from visits while sending easy bouquets and fruit-baskets
Or take the time to help her struggling steps to the toilet?

10.
If the moon shines tonight on your wretched suffering
Would you hurl silent abuse and curse its half-light
Or glance up to catch perchance the echo of your deepest wishes in the air around ...?


you.can’t.honestly.say.that.it.matters.not
for.it.touches.you­.too



S T, 16 July 2013

enog si egami niwt eurt

tsuj ro
..dneb eht dnuor




S T, 12 July 2913

Have you found your heart
Hidden in a box?
Open up your eyes
Please, open up your eyes.

And reach into your soul
The petals are your tears
Oh, why don't you know?
Why don't you know-oh-oh-oh . . . .

That days are not real
It's all in yer mind
I really wished you knew.
Oh, how I wished you knew.


Refrain:
Open up your heart
Reach into your soul
Open up your heart
Open up your heart . . . .

Do you have an open heart?
Yes, you have an open heart!
Take in the Light . . . .



Have you found your peace?
Free it in the wind
Oh, just let it go . . . .
Just let it go!

Have you sent the autumn leaves
Can you count them all?
Oh, why don't see?
Why...don't you see......

That light cannot be caught
'Cause you're a part of it
Open up your heart
Open up your heart.



ST, 11 July 2013

ants crawl on
slowly


1.
left eye is hopping fast for days now
and time's but a fair damsel
of delightful illusion
how she taunts and teases you
into sweet oblivion
of wickedly sensual basking

she drugs you with deep charisma
and struts at the doorway of your senses
she clutches onto the tracks in your mind
and claws deep into your ragged psyche
that same old song playing
over and over...
........over


2.
see right through train's chassis
rail sleepers spin vigorously backward
in such frightful haste
to get nowhere
no-one knows the real speed of time
out there.....

but for mere mortals
it's leniently paced in adagio
and parceled in mellowed excruciation
as ants walk serene
alongside the tracks


3.
creep into chaotic patterns
fall into hell
through a secret back door
even satan knows not of
as perched as he is
on his *oh-so lofty pile of ordure
his blind heart
sees not
the strobed tracks
of your visiting soul


4.
take a syncopated shot up the arm
from the foul fang of a kind sinner

while saints bathe in fat glory
elsewhere

when you look again
you lie alone in a corner room
broken
yet untethered

tracks to heaven so obscured
by
your paradoxical attempts at levity
on the twisted playground of life's malady


5.
how badly you tripped
so many **** times
you ....got in the way
of your
own
remise


each time you fell
you looked UP
expecting help
when all the while
the answers lay
at your feet:

[your own mistakes are authentic and real;
you try to fox-tread out
but trying to turn your back on a *****
called destiny - equals catastrophe personified
oh, she WILL beckon you back
with her crooked finger
most kindly
to ensure no overdue lessons wait too long.....]



the ants crawl on
so
slowly



S T, Wed 10 July 2013

1.
immortal stone
rolled away.

2.
..........pinwheels rolling on
O O O O O O O O O O O O

then just
flatlining  ---^-^---^------^--------------------^----------------------­------^--------------------





S T, 8 July 2013

sharing a spot of brilliance with you
yes, it will touch your internals
only if you want it to*


Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the ******. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.”                       ― Rosemarie Urquico








S T, 5 July 2013

he says:
I want to hear the sun..
on me


1.
cover the width of a personal compostela
the yellow-and-black bird
flitting
branch to branch
endless

square patterns of light
half-cut
into shades of green
and slant
oblique


2.
making headway now
companions on the path
passing by
auburn creature with lolling tongue
            looks with such kind eyes
            glittering diamonds
            sun sits on tip of wet nose
he seems to be saying something...
some evanescent message

thoughts are ventilated
tones of silence seep in
wild flowers in amaranthine bloom
sway in nature's perpetual dance
always moving


3.
what happens to arboreal ghosts
when we prove efficiency by cutting the arms of living trees
          and with it
extended family of foliage?

monk passes slow
nods in quiet greeting
a bare half-smile
   enough to reach
   yet just truncated enough

maybe
to prune
is needed /


4.
how many more steps to tread
before *the why becomes clear?

trod so far
sought so wide
read so much
travelled so intense

this journey alone
proves so arduous


5.
alone...

struggled with hidden pain he discovered beneath the layers of happiness....
suffered hunger and thirst along the way....
washed in ***** rivers with no soap....
had to clean his **** with dusty leaves in the eve....
and remembering to eat
what to eat...but berries in the dark

and he cried, oh how he cried
from a place no man should see
such a dark place
demented and wicked souls at the doorstep
of hell
would shrink at

but first
in order to do all that
he had to wrestle with himself
and die inside
he could no longer fail to consent

no wistful little prayers
or wide-eyed flower-eyes

nor awe born in luxury



yet
for all that...


6.
in a little while
you will get what you want
if you give enough people
what they want

pray in secret
in the sun



the boy with the Jesus sandals
walks on

his journey
has
begun....



S T, (thursday:) 4 July 2013

round and round
they go

counting, counting
so long....


1.
hardly time to eat
let alone a coffee-on-the-go
yet always make an effort
for two or three daily suspended-cafés
a poor soul will pop in later

no time, no time...


2.
emails by assignment
work-related crap
for this assiduous pair
very* far apart
alive and available
yet caught in
formulae and science
holding sway above chit-chat

no time for play
just punch in digits
and calculate
always counting
without accounting any real loss

computing life-time
for
success


3.
then, one day
by sheer chance
he sent her an Einstein quote:
"Not everything that counts can be counted,
and not everything that can be counted counts."

in her tiny office cubicle
she suddenly saw flowers
of all colours
blossom before her
erstwhile
unseeing eyes

she didn't understand....


4.
for one full year
they swopped more than equations:
         deep reminders of life
         such gems of worth
         paradoxical beauts
all encapsulated in
the vessel of silent words

he loved sending her quotes
      to uplift her quiet spirit
she repaid his efforts
     in heart's core poems

PC keyboard playing postman
while
heartbeats monitor
new algorithms

then, they saw it ....
they finally understood.


5.
work progressed
and presentation due
project done

although never met nor seen
       they felt growing synchrony
       and developing emotions
they battled to chase it off
as they both were
born of discreet essence

they agreed to meet in a year
at the fountain near
the oldest tree in Paris
at the
Square René-Viviani
in the fifth arrondissement

oh, so very long to wait...


6.
many weeks were spent
in daydreams
of delicious crêpes-suzettes and strawberries
with maple syrupy strips
and super-strong espresso
at bistros on
cobbled-****** squares

and munching baguette
with Emmenthal and salade
         walking in parks together
         lancing wish-pennies
         and getting portraits near the Seine
blue skies in dream-eyes
with birds in elm trees

deeply into each other


7.
then....
some shock was revealed
which would spin
e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g
so wildly out of orbit
for her

fate was playing games...
and laughing so wickedly
awarding such onerous toll

she understood....


8.
the time ticked by
mails became sporadic
he wondered why

the rendezvous time was close
to meet springtime love
and it took him
enormous trouble to get there

she didn't show


9.
he sat
waited
had a decaf
alone
despair settling upon him
like an overgrown and heavy wintercloak

but the sweet footfall he wanted
did not approach

that's when he assumed some ...truth
she didn't love him
she couldn't
not after this stand-up

he didn't understand....


10.
she had really tried to tell him
but ran so ungently
out
of time....


he understood
but only
some weeks after that day....
when postman delivered
to his door:
algorithmic package


11.
now, in her inbox
lies a Mother Teresa quote
which remains eternally
suspended:

“Yesterday is gone.
Tomorrow has not yet come.
We have only today.
Let us begin.”  


little counts now
so long....



S T, 2 July 2013

1.
there once was a poem
who climbed into a paper boat
             and sailed on to the moon
             not a moment too soon
for they came to lock the sun away!

2.
best not mount this whippy one
rock-a-billy wild carriage
              ride me to the city's end
              don't drive me round the bend
we can always try a bold bovary-move!

3.
look into the fire and sing a song
about the lonely, tarrying sea
               oh sailor, make it sweet
               then I'll put it up on tweet
and nary mind; make your children's lullaby.

4.
I gives ya posies bright and gay
come sit by me...closer, dear
                she smells, then sneezes
                oh, he didn't know how to please her
her floral allergies packed him off for good.

5.
there was a lazy man from Shadder
who said 'twas too cold to empty his bladder
                  so, he sent it a-walkies
                  off alone to the loo
well, it just drove his wife madder!



S T, 30 June 2013

just the eyes of a child
fixed
seeking its place
in a meadow
of flowers
fixed on the horizon
out to sea

steep climb
yet I want to sit in that storm with you
in the eye of it all

sitting with Mimi-meouw and biscottis
and mind .... so far away...

the heart
one more line
closer to the sky



S T, 30 June 2013

it will be, you know


1.
small bird
shivering

kind hand
covering

warmth
spreading

destined
for life


2.
her well-trained cats
at the door
         ants *always spared (!)
         on sill
         with sugared saucer
poultry in the yard
collecting deep-yolked eggs
         making gooseberry jam
and sweet, strong tea
with hot milk
just for me

she taught me inner grace
and the real meaning
of quietness
        just birds chattering away
        whistling wondrous
        in fig trees
laden with heavy fruit
awaiting her deft hands

how I loved her so

accounting exams
interrupted
in sixth grade
sorry
she's gone, dear
dumbstruck silence
          they ask
          why I'm not crying?


3.
kismet peeps in
to embrace you
and kiss your brow

you try to sidestep
and stub a toe
knock your head


in the end:
full-circle prayer


que sera...sera




S T, 28 June 2013

pardon
thoroughly potent thoughts
piercing
mindset

even though

really
















m.i.l.e.s.s.s.s.s.s.s.s.s








­





away...






S T, 27 June 2013

not everybody likes quotes,
but I kinda need the inspiration



I.
'A real friend is one who walks in
when the rest of the world walks out.'
- Walter Winchell (1897-1972), US journalist and author

II.
'In prosperity our friends know us;
in adversity we know our friends.'
- John Churton Collins (1848-1908), English literary critic

III.
'A friend is one who sees through you
and still enjoys the view.'
- Wilma Askinas (1926- ), US author and columnist

IV.
'You are a true friend
We cry through the bad times,
We laugh through the good ...
with happiness and smiles,
with pain and tears,
I know you will be with me
throughout the years.'
- Anon

V.
'Thank you for being a genuine friend ... one who is not afraid to say things, out of love, things that are hard to say and hard to hear but cares enough to speak up.'
- Anon




thank you for all the wise advice you have given me
I wouldn't be where I am today if not for your guidance*




S T, 25 June 2013

fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance

no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting

concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless

such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..

four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams

time to fill
maturation
to come..

to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..



S T,  13 June  2013

peace
please



private property..
intruder hurtled over
seeking who knows what
screaming obscenities

perfect pitch..
find little solace
but by going within
hide well beneath veneers

possible perfection..
but with one
so* very far away
loss near calamitous

pardon presumption..
get over discomfort
pick up sad face
work with it

passable poetry..
may reveal a layer or two
if the inner eye ready
shove preconceived away

puerile pretence..
try to prove points
only to efface the truth
lose bits of the light

petty prisons..
all just deadly excuses against living
get locked in by the self
unlock the cell, throw key away

please..
peace



S T, 12 June 2013