"surfboards" poems
nostalgia
as soft sun filters through palm leaves
and the clouds purple, the skies painted pastel pinks
surfboards stand seven feet tall
the salt water glowing, sparkling
a dark watercolor blue hue
i am reminded of the spring and summertime
of happier days
as I drive by the sea that glints waves to me
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
read me that passage once again
you know
the one about the guy
who’s got his finger
stuck where it shouldn’t be?
spinning it all the way to the top
and shocking anyone within his view
sammy was his name
and his friends called him
the swami
you would see him often
biting the wing of his chicken
(and shaking his head)
the captain would ask
“you call this a pastime sammy…you call this a pastime?”
sammy would say
“it’s fine…it’s fine…yes…yes…it’s what i do”
and no one seemed to mind
(save for the chicken)
he was a descendant of the eastern block
a shipol they’d say
fingers pruned
eyes red (and full of hope)
toss me one of those medicine balls…and let someone else call the show! today’s line up; boulder dash and surfboards of death! (for they always seem to keep the captain amused)
a big belch
from the little man
has sammy grinning
ear to ear
un-kept teeth
and blackened nails
do not cross his mind
(for he’s all about pulling compliments from the day!)
hey wait, he’s stomping now…and mad!
hey wait…it’s passed (look at that, he’s already moving on!)
catch you on the rebound swami!
catch you there indeed!
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 4:13 PM UTC
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
With Bill And Ted
To buy two bottles
Of mineral water.
Jack and Jill
Came tumbling down
Fatally cracking their heads open
And the local council was done
For corporate manslaughter.
But Bill and Ted
Came down on their mountain bikes
With the mineral water
towed on a skateboard.
And having buried Jack and Jill
At an environmentally friendly funeral
They headed for the Amazon
On solar powered surfboards.
Thus they concurred
This was yet again
As vinegar
Bed and
Brown paper-free
As there ever could be
Excellent Adventure.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
i found them
while i was
digging
through old boxes
covered in dust
hidden
in the shadows
beneath my bed
i'd been searching for LPs
Lost in the Sound of
Separation on vinyl
record
its sentimental value
binding memories of
my favorite band
countless shows
a myriad of friends
it was there that i
found exactly what
it was i wasn't
looking for
who knows
maybe i hid them
because they
reminded me of things
best left forgotten
the blue sticky note
read in purple ink
"my favorite prints
for my favorite person.
thanks for believing
in my work."
in every photograph was a
little bit of you
dead friends
broken homes
dark rooms with
hardly any light
a child looking for love
the beach palms
skateboards and surfboards
in every photograph was a
little bit of you
shot in black
and white
refined in their
aesthetic but
only one photo actually
had you in it
three windows
light filtering through
closed blinds
an air vent in the bottom
right-hand corner
you stand in the center
and it is evident that
you are shirtless as you
look over your shoulder
at the camera suspended
in the room
what thoughts crossed your
mind when the shutter
shuddered shut
in every photograph was a
little bit of you
and if we’re being honest
there was a little of
me too
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.
i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.
it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.
before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.
it was... rockin, knockin,
*** on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.
it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.
it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.
it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.
it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.
it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.
it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.
it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.
it was ....so long ago,
it was... yesterday night,
when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
~
Coverups and bikini strings
Swimming trunks and surfboards
Glow sticks and wristbands
Fireflies competing with bonfires
Beer bottles half buried in sand
Memories of those June nights
Forgotten in this bitter cold
~
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 10:11 AM UTC
Question for you, chicks and dudes,'
What is an ironing board to you?
Did you know they were surfboards,
Yes, they grew up, surf did bore,
Surfboards got a day job,
Being ironing boards is their lot,
Nonsense I do compose,
Only a joke in an ode!
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 5:09 AM UTC
Broken glass mosaics in gutters and sidewalk cracks
Endless nights of glowing screens and quiet music
Long haired children with surfboards and cigarettes
I flick the ashes off mine in greeting to hollow eyed friends
Shaking from early morning hangovers
The clouds settling in low places among scrub hills
Ocean crashing reminds me I’m still human
Sand castle dreams viewed through broken windows
Pulled a thousand directions in a moment, comprehend none of it
Smiling for no reason when fingertips meet and eyes cascade radiance
Laughing in deep places with no expression
And out of our togetherness, there is profound silence
In dark concrete rooms with the smell of detergent
Unfolded clothing on the bed and empty bottles of gin
Words on the page, meant so much more last night
Now just scratches in ink and pencil, another idea to discard
Sparrows scatter from high lines and we take our first
breath
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
The billionaires tend to their garden
at the expense of the forest,
whilst landlocked towns
invest in pine trees and surfboards
to sell a notion of escape
against the cell of a poorer tomorrow.
Religion lost its claim to G-d
once the churches locked their doors.
The homeless started a choir
on the park bench by the chapel
once they grew tired of food;
fame now the nutrition of the masses.
The baby boomers are a dying breed
set for containment and greed
and rapacious war;
the dreadful threat of a next door neighbour-
their extinction amongst
a millennial wantonness.
Heiresses brush their hair in vanity,
as does the poet to his white-noise
crowd of lunatics and alcoholics.
He crushes diazepam into his whiskey sour,
then lifts a shaking hand
to find the power he is preaching against.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
1
the old man watches
his wife fill cups of coffee;
he finds the sugar.
2
raining and raining --
summer's reward: the rainbow.
what is for breakfast?
3
with winter in bloom,
warmth and flowers are alive,
and graves are still green.
4
the royal palace --
a sign of displaced culture.
oh, the majesty.
5
As sun and sea meet,
faces brighten in the dark
as alcohol flows.
6
birds of paradise
hiding the boy's pet rabbit.
such a mellow child.
7
i find the bracelets,
but they are for another,
as aged hands cut fruit.
8
golden fireworks;
a true midsummer night's dream
made for young lovers.
9
holding hands, watching
purple twilight and green sea;
a brilliant union.
10
so close to japan,
but this place is not made for
the cherry blossoms.
11
enjoying french toast
as i think of the friendly
australian woman.
12
i'm an old young man,
both naïve and hardened like
fried green tomatoes.
13
the haiku devolved
within the english language --
more words, less meaning.
14
the one thing i've learned:
hope to be kissed by the sun,
hope not to get burned.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
I am dreaming of a white Christmas
I say stop, cause it's too **** hot for that
You see instead of skiing and skating on ice
We are having barbecues and swimming in the pool
And instead of Santa coming down the chimney he goes through the computer screen and uncle robbie and jim bob
And Jacob lying on the beach getting a tan and if they are dreaming of a white Christmas well stop cause in Australia
It's too **** hot for that
You see kids are riding their surfboards
On Bondi beach and santa will join us
Everyone is having fun
And robbie pulls out six pack
And said lets get out backpacks
And hike through the kangaroo island bushland
If you dream of a white Christmas
Well stop cause in Australia it's too
**** hot
You see we go off the Queensland and sere the big pineapple and then go down to Coffs Harbour to see the big banana and mum is sweating in the kitchen cooking the Christmas bird
And we go to jamberoo to slide down the waterslide
And uncle Freddie said ** ** ** look at me go
I am dreaming of a white Christmas
I should stop cause in Australia it's too **** too ****
Too **** hot
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 8:22 AM UTC
She is caressed and tickled faintly
Moves her limbs swiftly against its currents
Seeks to fend off the darkness that surrounds
But is too uncaring to pay heed
Pay heed to those floating by
Disturbing their reveries
Dreams they dream with their eyes wide open
Gazing at the stars, the skies pitch black
For their dreams to realize
They pray to the stars falling
To holy spirits, to Zeus in the gauzy haze
Ignoring her as she drowns
Wishing with lust for glitters and gold
They float all over all around
Blocking the shimmering moonlight
The miniscule ray of hope that she had
Worse, she got vertigo
The waters wash away with whirlpools
In effervescence all bonds that existed
Now withered and weak
The water of totality
Incorporeal, incorporating totality
With mediocre attempts
Barely chafing composure of the surfers
Surfers in trance, penancing after their dreams
Somnolent and drooling in lullaby
Unmindful of the drowning damsel
She is about to succumb
A drunk sailor passes by
Intoxicated in psychedelics, tipsy
With languid gait and slow movements
The world melting before him
With eyes closed he sees the unseen
Vivid serene sceneries and warping visuals
That you and I call hallucinations
Purple, pink and scarlet with spirals
And other ineffable amorphous shapes
For his senses are hindered
That he outreaches for help, that’d cost
Cost him his own dreams and adventures
Dreams to cover the seven seas
With eleven bottles of ***
A downhaul he extends for her
All he sees is a beautiful woman in pain
All he assumes is a paragon of virtue
A company to fill in his solitude
He helps her aboard.
Appalled by apathy of the world
She impels him out of his boat
And treads on alone
To conquer the world
A world of despair
Somewhere among the dreamers
Floating on their surfboards
The bored pirate sees it all
In ephermal tranquillity
For him, “All the world’s a stage”
Innate truths of the world are clear
Thus he just observes from a distance
Like an all seeing eye of the illuminati
And he doesn’t dream
Anymore.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
There's a dead silence
surrounding me
& I see the babes hanging,
all of them girls,
they lie on surfboards,
trapped for an eternity
& under the mist of a cool jade,
I spot my ruination day,
the winged serpent
with her eyes made of pearls.
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Well, the kids are all hopped up and ready to go, they're ready to go now
They got their surfboards and they're going to the discotheque A-Go-Go
But she just couldn't stay, she had to break away
Well New York City really has it all, oh yeah, oh yeah
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Well she's a Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker, Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Well, the kids are all hopped up and ready to go, they're ready to go now
They got their surfboards and they're going to the discotheque A-Go-Go
But she just couldn't stay, she had to break away
Well, New York City really has it all, oh yeah, oh yeah
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Well, she's a Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker, Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Punk-Punk, a Punk rocker
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker, Sheena is a Punk rocker now
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 10:33 PM UTC
Give me back my kisses, give 'em back
Give me back my 501's give'em back
Give me back my pride, give it back
Give me back my tooth brush give it back
And I'll give you back your loving, 'cos all it was to me was a heavy backpack
Give me back my future, give it back
Give me back my polaroids, give'emback
Give me back my friends, give'em back.
Give me back my peace of mind give it back
And I'll give you back your loving, 'cos all it was to me was a heavy backpack.
And keep your temper to yourself
Try to control your psychotic reactions
Try not to ruin, everybody's life around you
And get yourself a life
Give me back my car keys, my boots and my DVD's
My **** films and all of my LP's
My hair loss treatment shampoo, and my old spice aftershave too
And the photograph you keep in your wallet where I'm kissing you
Give me back my tools my guitars and my skateboard
My surfer mags and all of my surfboards
The time we wasted together, the waves and the sunny weather
And keep the toys we had hid in the first drawer for when there's another.
And keep your temper to yourself
Try to control your psychotic reactions
Try not to ruin, everybody's life around you
And get yourself a life
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
In the blue distance, gleaming, painted with glorious patterns
reflected in the refulgent sunset,
come the surfboards amidst
the swell
the froth
the crashing waves
that rise and fall.
Crashing, rushing, babbling in tune that
echoes and re-echoes in the evening softness
to dance in joyful harmony.
And this, this crystal world that I have seen
in patchwork majesty spread wide upon the shore.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 1:09 PM UTC