Benedict watched
as Mrs Fairweather
hushed her mutt
and told him to get back

in its box
under the table
and ushered Benedict
into the lounge

and to take a seat
on the blue sofa
recently bought
she said her husband

was away
on a long haul
(truck driver
of some sort)

and that she’d like
to know more
about Benedict
than she knew already

he sat there listening
to her voice
coming through
from the kitchen

tea or coffee?
she asked
or something stronger?
coffee’d be fine

he said
looking at
the landscape prints
upon the walls

after a short while
she came in
carrying two cups
and set them down

and sat beside him
her red skirt rising
as she put one leg
over the other

tell me more
about yourself
she said
looking at him

sideways on
one hand resting
on her cheek
the other

on her thigh
what’s to tell?
he said
and she told him

what she wanted to know
how long since
his last kiss?
who with

and how
was his pecker?
(laughingly put)
and she said she’d seen

a photo of him
some where
and all the time
her hand went up

and down her thigh
(which caught his eye)
what is that aftershave
you’re wearing?

nice and kind of ****
she said smiling
he told her what it was
some stuff his mother’d

bought for him
from the superstore
he could smell her scent
as she neared him

musky overpowering
and laid on thick
his mother
would have said

he sipped his coffee
and she sipped hers
then she put on a record
of the Kinks

and danced
on her way back
to the sofa
wiggling her backside

and **** as she moved
and Benedict wondered
if he’d made a mistake
coming over

at that time of day
or any time at all
then she kissed him
and touched him

and it was suddenly
in the deep end of the pool
wondering if he’d not got
out of his depth

her lips pressing
in on him
her hands searching
for his pecker

her words uttered
in a low voice
as if drowning
but what if?

o don’t mind him
he won’t be back
for days yet
but what if?

but the but ifs
were drowned
in her kisses
and her hand

had plunge into cloth
and sought out
the pecker
and Benedict imagined

Mr Fairweather
hot tempered
from a long haul
unhappy with

this kissing
and hugging
and all
entering the room

just as his shy pecker
had been exposed
and in the hands
of his wife

but it was all
in his mind
no Fairweather came
or saw or spoke

just she and Benedict
and the mutt moaning
from the other room
and the new blue sofa

beneath them
and the Kinks singing
and sunlight filtering
through the half closed shutters

blueness of sky
and Benedict
sensing her
and wondering why.

October 20, 2018


I've spent this year

Learning how to deal.

This isn't melodrama

Just the truth

Condensed into just a few words

To express a vastness

Guaranteed to fill a few pages.


Like all years, it's been bittersweet.

I've fallen down

Tripped up

Left a bruise

Quite a few times.

But, of course

You have to fall --

Maybe even bleed a little --

In order to teach yourself

The triumph

Of bringing yourself

Back to your feet.


I've stood in front of a lot of mirrors

Most of them metaphysical

Truly getting to know the girl

On the other side.

The more we talk

The more I like her.

She's a hot mess sometimes, sure

But she's kind of a cool person to have coffee with.

She doesn't look like she used to, not at all

Especially when she's obviously trying to do better.

She still chews her tongue a bit

When she admits that she's wrong

And she's so very shy

When I ask her what to do

And she responds:

"I don't know."

I should tell her that I love her

A lot more often this year.


I've found that the heart is a wonderfully strange instrument

And that the soul is not an *****

But is something very, very real.

I've found that the former

Is as good at persevering

As it is at making messes

And that the latter

Is something all-too-useful

In the modern world.


I've found that most friends are fairweather

And, often, so am I.

I still hold out hope

That, maybe one day

I'll discover loyalty

That can be truly permanent.


Lastly, I've found that poetry

Is a beautiful vessel

Worth so much more

Than worrying about boys

Through a series of rhymes.

It's quickfire, artful catharsis

Freeing a caged dove

With words that make me feel

As if I can make my writing soar.

It's filled to the brim with love

And laughter

And tears

And imagination

And anger

And fear

And reflection

Just like these passing years.


And with every one I finish

I long for many more.

a week
turns into a month
into a year
and it's like i never knew you

though that's on me, i suppose?
when never do i receive
a message
a call, a text, letters

this is so very clearly
a one-sided engagement
so why should i waste my time
when you offer nothing but enragement

i realize now
it had always been this way
only older, for it, i have less patience

the television weather persons
are just as enthusiastic
come rain or shine
I can admire that

When the chips are down the road always bends
Where are they now my fairweather friends?

Estranged and torn, forlorn in the wind

Hopeless and alone all I remember whom I've helped win

Now it's my turn but it seems they all ran out once again

Religion has lied my faith has grown dim
The country I was born gave in to the devil the playing field is not level

I can't afford to live, the prices too high
Where do I go to lay down and die?

D. Clare

the days pass by like leaves in fall
some days yellow some days red
but you breathe life into my dull routine
whether you mean to or not
you are the blooming spring amongst my life's winter
so I will adore you
till my heart bursts
and my smiles decay
like the leaves that fall in the autumn breeze
to empty my branches and reveal my wicked form
you make me want to flourish and yet you don't mind when I'm barren
the seasons pass slowly when I'm with you
and the winter's frigid ice is melted by the hearth of your being
be my spring and I'll be your blossoms
you are the summer wind and I am the gentle waves
kiss me with your warm embrace and lead me towards uncharted shores

collaboration with calpurnia mockingbird*

Bite me, muse
You night time lover
fairweather fickle demon of writes
you shake your stuff in my direction
then run off laughing in the night.

Up yours, muse,
you wanton harlot
spewing fragments, bits of rhymes
take your teasing from my doorstep
sorry *****, don't have the time.

*******, muse
you stinking skiprat
get to steppin' set me free
you mock my gaze with great affection
help me out or leave me be!

******* muse, my new expression
take your words and shove them there
your sun don't shine in my direction
this poems **** but I don't care.

laminate eyes
glossy and mewling
she's a fairweather grappling hook
dug into my collarbone

hearts don't break
they bruise and get better,
yet are never  
quite
the same

All my life I've believed in you,
I thought you were the one getting me through.
Time has passed-- Oh how I grew!
I do not believe the lies they spew.

Your existence is the lie
That hurts so much I wish only to die.
Instead, I turn face to the sky,
And spark what makes sanity equal high.

There is no way you can be real,
And still cause this pain that we feel.
Unfair is the hand you deal,
And cruel how innocent lives you steal.

You do not deserve an end
Or closure to this my fairweather friend.
I can no longer pretend,
Your chapter was anything but a trend.

It's not them, It's you
Your not like them, more like you
Like you to defend yourself
You sit on a shelf
haunted by ghosts
Gather dust, to spite yourself
In spite of what you want
You spit in spite at your want
Stunted your growth, always fall short
Don't change, don't grow, selling yourself short
Pathetic and sad a dying man feeling glad
Think you're tall, think you're small
Unstable, you don't grow you'll fall
Your not perfect, your not even great
Think your perfect, don't even try to be great

Great greatness gets greater  
It grates greatly the grating gratifier
Ego stroker a chronic masturbater
Losing sight when everyone will cater
Man of masks an avid actor
Nice in summer
Friend in fairweather
See you later
When the sky is clearer

I've always been a thunderstorm
and you say you're not fairweather,
but darlin' why is it when I come around
you always panic for your umbrella?

The annual rose garden blushes beneath a soft dress
in May. My crooked puppet's shadow has subsided in the theater it came to make way for fairweather, protest, wet teal ink
flowering the walls as sunlight shines thru and the mechanical
blinking of shadowy eyes now spurred AWAKE.
An Appalachian mind gaze and spiderweb neon
smoke attaching it's warmth to every freckled cheek,
a mint kiss like the opening of a fir tree smelted into the
foggy earth.

Ceramics embroider the shop sills
and ceiling fans wave hello n farewell to every guest
each day longer than the last!
WANDERER slept
sound in the Nagakin Capsule Tower, few nights ago now,
had an idea, lost it, feather flowed it's way across Pacific
to my bedroom and I wrote about her here, and saw a Japanese tea ceremony flash by
her eyes/my eyes
a collective consciousness
sometimes years apart.

She, who's witnessed the debris of catastrophe,
standing over what was a golden vase
filled with Tulips
now ash, forgotten except for in a memorial vague outline
in the bewitched brain(s)
Visionary! Arms twitched to the rapture occurring in plain view of us all
VIOLIN rebounding intangible yet unmistakable sound
on a train in Tokyo city. Cement is damp with Spring's sweet rain,
her feet sore from all this walking!

I appreciate her travels, as they are at once my own,
a second-hand enchantment
the taste of green tea, cherries!
EXPLOSIVE FORMLESS ANIMAL WHITE
feather grazed my skin, startled.

This feeling??
something set free, a violent hue erratic
markings on the cave walls, the one from Plato's allegory,
watching fire light the shape of our bodies and some spectacular image displays itself invisible
but felt, undeniable!
Settled, fire transferred to our lungs.
We call this “ART”
we have left the cave, to Paris, to Senegal, to Jaipur,
to her and I and you.

Animal oh animal caged no longer,
howling paintings and smells to our eyes,
bitten our hands sharp with poetry,
this ghast who's empathy for strangers has made a rare few dizzy. Possession! Willingly accepted nocturnal entity and I write this because I can't help myself.

THIS IS WHAT CREATED THE MANDALA,
COLORS OF AN ANCIENT PEACOCK
LURKING WITHIN US TENDING THE FLORA
which takes inspiration from museums, from brief embers shot up in a chasm fireplace illustrating what we'll call Forever,
vocal alchemist who resides in descending faint harp and opera
a fountain in a mysterious lobby only visited by one person, once every few months,
birds shimmer in planted palms and a crystal ceiling expounds the details of travels to come,
an orb above like an observatory for our OWN universe.

APOLLO IN LAUREL
PIANO, ASIAN INFLUENCE,
Damien Hirst's “Beautiful darkness spreading to every corner of your mind painting"
framed holy upon the walls
Jean Cocteau's “The Blood of a Poet” projected also, side by side.
A painted face, a parrot imitating Sudhana

“This is the abode of those of unobstructed intellect and broad mind,
Enjoying the realm of space, free from dependence,
Penetrating all times, free from obstruction,
Clearly perceiving all being and becoming” - Avatamsaka Sutra

I'm speechless!
She's speechless! Her Tokyo, admittedly imaginary. It's her private
Nagakin Capsule Tower. It's my private Temple, my private Cocteau,
shelves stocked with the poems I'll one day write.
Words which shall knock on my dented skull in sleep mostly, but other times I can't recall as of this moment (Get back to me in July)
retired to literary France
and caught in the quicksand of aging, perhaps medicine will be far along enough that I shall die at 173?
a stretch, but considering that sciences are pushing for immortality by 2045 (pfft)
we shall see.
(??)
Bearded and divine with love
and experience from Airplanes
free jazz, dramatics,
heart to heart, dense libraries,
evening walks to Montmartre
a hand to hold
a kiss to experience.
Meditations,
Rodriguez “Sugar Man” fades out
“Silver magic ships... you carry...”
Sung once by the European barista in British Columbia who kept me caffeinated with a double shot of espresso for guessing the song right which was playing..This just happened, but I realize it'll become such a faint memory by then.
Out and out and out and out there
Far beyond the reaches of consciousness that previously mentioned feather will gather with the other ideas and become the WHITE peacock, infinite.
Carrying us there as wintry atoms
snowdrops on it's back.
One life to another.

Did you smell my blood in the water,
fairweather friend?
That seed of resentment in your heart
I dont remember sowing it.

Tick And tock
Like a metronome
My head keeps tapping as I stay awake
My mom snores, I can hear her growling through the walls,
As my imagination begins to creak and groan
Please sleep, stay in,  don't go wandering on your own.
My head would like to roam
In dream land once again,
But you've gone out for the night it seems
Like a Fairweather friend.

I wish mr. Sandman would stay for awhile, but it seems as though that isn't happening.
I'd be thankful for a nightmare because I haven't slept all week
Oh wait I don't think I wanna sleep while someone's slashing

please don't let me fall in love with scrawled
notes on napkins and don't leave doors open
when you have no intentions to close them

and please quit acting like it's okay to love
people haphazardly because one day you're
going to wake up and wonder where your
heart left its pieces

i want to apologize for not fitting into the
mold of someone i'm not, but i refuse to
chisel away parts of myself to remain
in ephermal ecstasy

a long time ago i made a promise to
myself that i intend to keep, and that
promise is to leave fairweather people
where they belong and find my sunshine,
my light

so i'll raise my standards while you
lower yours, because i still have a heart
that yearns for love

all your heart ever yearns for is pain

so tonight i may go to bed with a
bruised heart, but hey at least it still
beats, now i really can't say the same
for yours

but finally you're left with a heartbreak,
that this time you really couldn't afford.

People come in
and out
of my life
like millions of
little leaves,
skittering across the sidewalk,
in late autumn.

And I,
I am the tree,
who always knows
when things get better
the leaves will return.

Fairweather friends
and leaves alike
will always return
but I,
I am the tree,
and I am still strong
without them.

-t.b.

I've been living on...
Fake smiles,
False promises,
Long days,
Lonely nights,
Fairweather friends,
And strong stimulants.

Somehow I'm still hungry.

Try my best to please all,
Burn outs make me a fool.
No appreciation just greed,
Only call when you need.

Sunset trips,
Half moon blips.
Fairweather friends,
Your family extends.

Open one more beer,
Sunday blues kick into gear.
Delay the onset of Monday,
This will all be over one day.

Good hate to all men,
Learnt nothing about Zen.
Scribble your thoughts down in haste,
Try and let nothing go to waste.

People live in the shadows
Of each other,
People ride on the coattails
Of each other,
People hand out their
Fairweather friendships
To each other,
(But only temperately)
People build walls around
Each other,
And around themselves,
Some people will **** you
With a smile,
Or a kiss,
That drags you down to
The deepest frozen depts,
Until you're at the bottom
Right with all the rest.

- Jamie F. Nugent

If I was a ship
sent far out to sea
would anyone notice
the abscence of me?
I sit all alone
with my shadow and pen
and long to go home
back to hiding again.
If I was a ship
set to sail without end
would you be my anchor?
sweet fairweather friend.

first through the door
but last to the bar
the night is always over
right from the start

a voice will ring out
"off with his head!"
but the joke is on her
cause i'm already dead

so i pour one out
for fairweather friends
who got caught up in love
and other violent ends

i go for a swim
and drown in my drink
with the weight of the world
"my, how fast he did sink!"

When this wide eye wakes
                            Time welts

Summer
                   Sometimes wins

    May Blooms
  And Blossoms

and spars the rain
         Seeping deep into the
         drown earth

immersed in a mumble  
                  a continuous
            p
          l
          u
            n
            g
         e
of the waterfall,
_______
You say.
My finger        mine
                        
                          Shadows of solemn
casts pillers o'er hollowed temples

My fingers,
                     Breath upon your skin

move as steady wind.

_____
Say only

          what love might be

if the veil thin,
                            
                           warm & roused  
                             dove - down

thoughts full of dreams.
destined for nothing
heav-y-enly...

________
Your Eyes

                        emerald with yellow
                        wildflower born into
                                   the light
_________
Extended into the shadows

Memory - worn and
                     gardens overgrew

Wind - whipped ,  white - washed , w h i p p y
                    clouds the sky  
                                                     & looms in
                                                      the   mind

individuality lost to infinity

            the beauty & fairweather
       now emblems of ephemeral
                                  time.

Fake friends are worse than enemies
They love you so much in the
Fairweather breeze
Frigid winds always come
Eventually
And that's when
You figure out
Who's the fake friend

i am having the worst day
and my friends don't speak to me
they are the worst that way
fairweather folks
who turn to run
in the direction of the weathervane

Hello this is my poem
the one I sneaked on my mobile
whilst inspired by a journey to work
There was this impressive man
who exceeded the apex of my dreams
but I could never slay the sartorial dragon for him
my poetical vocabulary was too low brow
These arent my bouts of normal surrender
Yet there's never enough understanding
shown by my fairweather peers

Grateful that thankfully
Our parents who thought similarly
Enrolled us at the Don Bosco Egmore
We couldn't have asked for more

Decision by parents
Boon for students
Bonded as friends
Past and Present

Convent education
For future preparation
Tough by definition
Oneness in orientation

Bonding  in the past
Till today last
Proof is in the heart
Till now never part

Together 14 years
Nostalgia still brings tears
Friendship always mutual
From the inside and natural

30 years later
Still together
Thankful to each other
For time spent together

Divided by section
Never lost connection
Many a difference of opinion
Moving away never an option

Friends in need
And a  friend in deed
School sowed the seed
No exception
A miracle indeed

Problems take sway
Solution a call away
Nothing so tough
Mere presence of the boys
More than enough

Fairweather friends
They are not
All full of heart
Lucky to be a part

Farewell party
Mere formality
Share your vulnerability
Vulnerability becomes history

Fun and support
Straddling both
Every soul pure
From Don Bosco Egmore

From personal experience
Have asked many a friend
Any form of help required
At your doorstep delivered

Class of 87
Ever in unison
United as one
Each one to everyone
Soulmates till kingdom come

Thank you said
A feeling expressed
Heartfelt and honest
Every interaction purest


Virtuous and precious
Never refused help
Experience universal
Soul mirroring behavior


Decades passed but still
Purity and quality
Heart remains this
Happy to be doing this
Virtues in Arduis