More Than Disconnected

There he was –

And here he still is –

Pride-blind stubborn man,

Reaching for the silver,

Expecting the love.

There we were –

Here we are still –

Though far more than disconnected;

Well past dislocated dysfunctional:

Bitter-orphan diversities.

Pretending not to listen,

Not to care.

The big casino simply

Wasn’t room enough.

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In The Small

dragonfly

With savage shell-bone pride

Members of the dragonfly tribe

Carry a beautiful storm miracle

Below their flexible armour cages;

And aerobat on flicker-shine wings

That flatten the earths corners,

Bend the skies straightways up,

Fasten the sun in time and place.

Recognise the magic, please,

In the small hum-drum things;

Catch some contentment from the

Small, pleasant pulses of joy.

 

 

Photo: courtesy of www.bendigocc.blogspot.com

30/8/2013

Town’s End?

Riverboat gambler coated,

Thin collar fashionably raised,

The familiar windmill

Spins on blue suede pegs.

I wonder, now, why I never saw

The harsh self-doubt, the

Harshest of self mockery,

The dumb recognition of happenstance

In those flamenco matador poses.

Copper lady, right hand filled

With righteous liberty

As the terrible truth, vulnerability and blame

Crash down again; over

Iconic, decibel-lit harbourscape.

The way it actually is and the other way,

Held in memory, of how it was before.

So much to be proud of.

The air stands still,

The big voice calls on and on.

You? You think too much, preoccupied:

“Who will I be seeing this evening?”

I’m more intrigued by

Who I’m going to be.

 

28/6/2013

 

 

Finish

Terrible sounds and memories from a

Long gone troubled English evening

Tumbling over and over, reach me:

Carried on a Patriot wind.

Charity and lavender dreams shattered,

Runner camaraderie staggered

– Hopefully only temporarily –

Here in the original Tea Party City

– Where a different way to

Make a point was born.

We, the naïve, the unsuspecting

May make such easy casual-slaughter victims;

But remember  your secret,

Dark-mask shadows

Are not welcome here …

The fact that you can

Gives you no rights.

Please let this finish line

Be the last.

marathon

Image: www.telegraph.co.uk

17/4/2013

The Timefall Changes

Feeling the timefall changes

Blowing in the fresh old winds;

The insistent gravity pull and

Push of generation.

What do I want most:

Woodpecker or web?

I have fierce deep roots,

Of which – push me –

I can be aggressively proud;

And experiences have forged badges

Pinned to the fabric of my life.

But my soul has never

Blindly carried a flag.

16/11/2012