The Right Masks

Fallen bottle is empty,

The galleon  intact, but inverted.

I’m damned in public again:

Without clothes,

Short of good words;

The pierrot-priest

Wears a cartoon-policeman’s face,

Passengers on the moonbridge express,

While refusing to acknowledge

Each other’s existence,

Join together to laugh,

Soundlessly, at me.

“Far from home!” the penguin cries,

Rocking gently cowboy,

King of the silver horses, sighs.

If we can survive these lows,

These lies,

Find our own masks –

We may all

Be good people again.

Tomorrow

Exhibitio …

Somewhere unseen – tucked away,

Below, behind the artefacts –

 Tiny bulbs that shine forth beams

Of light brighter than small gods

Draw unexpected-shape shadows

All around me: exotic butterfly wings,

Torquemada’s masks, broken pagoda roofs,

Dragon claws; birth thoughts of faith

As they maze floor and walls

With failure portent and treasure promise:

Belittling, mocking, intimidating the observers.

A Cosmos Apart

Distant strangers, a cosmos apart,

We crazily crashed, fell and coupled like

Old earth’s young gods last night.

No need for secrets, false modesty or masks.

No need for mercy: asked or given.

We felt the colours released in

The depths of our innocent souls;

Tasted sweet explorations with

Glorious, long pent-up trust and abandon.

Carried each other on and on, then further,

Testing ourselves to the glamour’s-honey limits;

Pushing and pulling one another to stand,

Quivering at the edge of the rainbow abyss.

Then, with complete faith, held

Each other, body and eyes, trembling

Before the please-don’t-stop releases came,

And we slid -eternally joined – down the

Liquid-malachite-pleasure slopes of the

Paradise-peacock’s splendid eye-to-eye tail;

Between the stars and the furious silences:

The endorphin-loaded passages that stretch themselves

Across the boundaries between

Adrenaline and exhaustion,

Need and satisfaction.

14/8/2013

Where Sails …

moon

Where sails the moon this evening?

For it must be she: patient,

One-eyed queen and governess

Of summer heavens …

That fills the woodbine bugle

With warm narcotics that

Hypnotise and bewilder

Moths and mortals.

This timekeeper and turner

Of tides and histories

Has lessons for all who know

How to give attention;

Focus on her sky screen scribbles:

Learn of circles, times and joys,

Faces that change, masks that

Mean all and nothing,

Secrets that aren’t,

Dreams that should be,

Power in doubt and doubt in power.

Concentrate, my friend, for your

Life will be the test.

 

12/7/2013

Photo: www.commons.wikimedia.org