Sadness
dressed in Armani black
blackened eyes
tongue tied
red tie
under innocent collar, star spangled sabots
clatter
down
a
barren
aisle,
a rope rests by the two bare feet
of the Goddess
who will tie a knot anew —
the Gordian knot
it is not — yet I beg
of Her
to rule the lands of fairies
fairly.
I do.
You can trace the untruths
through the winding ways of Time,
fickleness in deep dark pockets,
the pulpit carries the voice of One
{ … }
& the X will never again
mark the spot of treasures —
I sit in the benches, cloaked
watching a watch on silent
{ … }
the chastising medium of one
clashes the pack pursuing —
We, wee in the grander scheme
find truthful talk in friendly faces
{ … }
and no lies in faceless friendships —
You can trace the untruths
through the winding ways of Time,
if you dare
to face
the signs.
Who, then, are you
that walk this earth
beside me — not hearing it
behind me — not saying it
ahead but not seeing
it — so
What then, and where to go
from here — to where: there
is nowhere, unless somewhere
is all you crave — something
is everything filtered
into nothing & somewhere
everywhere sifted
into sand — a windswept beach
Buckets and spades drift along shorelines
bob idly as the tide turns
to eyes no longer looking
no longer seeing
no longer believing in
the fundamental truth of life:
without builders nothing gets built.
Who, then, are you
that walk this earth
beside me — not building
behind me — not building
ahead yet not building
it — thus far.
I’ve never kept a diary, but I guess if I had, the entry for today would run something like this…
September 5, 2024.
It is summer again. Did summer actually ever leave? 21C and not a cloud in sight (teeny fib, the late afternoon turned hazy, but still warm). Shorts and T-shirt. Short socks in sneakers 😀
No response from real estate agent on web query. Wrote direct email re next possible viewing. Yay, a fast response! Viewing planned for today. In two hours time… find bus route and get there on time. Arrived on time, no agent in sight. Wait. Wait. Ah, eff it, I take a stroll around the property to get my bearings and make use of MY TIME! Apple trees, red and blackcurrant bushes. Nice. Pick up Newtonian apple (allowed!). Take a bite. Soft… pick a few red and blacks (don’t tell!). WHERE IS THE EFFIN AGENT??????? call agent. Auto response: can’t talk right now. What? Text agent: where are you, I’m here!!!! Out of town? Misunderstanding? Oh. Well yeah you didn’t spell that word right did you, but I also did not read that word properly. Next week you say. Okay. Fuck. (sneaks off the property hoping no one saw me). Now what? Stroll down the high street. Check out the local shops and dining places. Quaint, my final verdict of this village. Check bus time table, last bus an hour away. Hungry. Take aim at the local pizza place. 45 minutes later I roll out of the pizza place, one calzone and a beer lining my stomach. Buy orange fizz for desert (why? There wasn’t any coke!). Take last bus back home. Same driver as before. He recognised me… Get off bus, walk for 30 mins to get home, plus stopping off at the local grocery store. Note to self: always bring two bags for groceries. One bag makes life just so much harder. Arrived home. Sweating like a roasting pig. Huffing. Puffing. Watch warns me my pulse is too high for a sedentary position. Fuck #2. Feel stuffed two hours after pizza. Too much mozzarella I reckon. Also, too little tomato sauce.
TV time. Watch TV. Time passes. The sun sets. Nice. Takes photo and posts to tumblr. TV. TV. Bang. Darkness. Power gone. Look out the window and realise the whole neighbourhood is dark. Get candles. Light candles. Get phone. Wait for cell service to be restored. Check power company website. Planned work? Power restored in 6 hours! The text to mum contains too many expletives to mention, but how the fuck can EON (electricity company) be allowed to run planned maintenance without telling their customers. Getting annoyed. Write complaint email to EON using even more colourful language. Press send. Feel no remorse.
Fuck. (#3) I was supposed to enlist in the next uni course today. Today. The last day. But the power is off… I can access the computer with all the docs. Fuck (#3 still echoing in my head). Get phone out. 30% battery left. Might just work… Log on to Uni. Select course. Enlist. Proceed. Sorry? What? The online system can’t determine how much I’m supposed to pay cuz I’ve moved… BUT I DONT NEED TO PAY TODAY!!!!!! Contact Uni using web form. Write long explanations but try to ignore the frustration from the power fucking company idiot still bouncing in my head. Press send. Get automated reply immediately. Okay, that seemed to have gone to the wrong department. Try again. Contact student support. Sigh. Repeat the same info, adding a few extras and further queries. Press send.
Fuck it. Walk to fridge. Open door. Get beer. Drink beer. Sigh. Gawd, I just feel the urge to whinge, into the void where no one can hear me. Huh, I know — Tumblr.
A September sun setting. Wow, what a day, 20+ on ye ol’ Celsius scale, shorts and a T, sweat slowly dripping down the back. Met a stranger reminding me the snow isn’t far away. Oh well, at least tomorrow will continue in the spirit of July.
She stood on the shoulders of giants
shuffling on to a slow beat
in stone carved cravats —
dried ink down their backs.
She sat at her tea table
underfed — her pensive pen
drew the same lethargic symbols
in ink unwilling to reveal
another truth hitherto untold.
She tried to lay her heart bare
without anyone seeing
the pain beneath the words
her strength missed,
the
point — no return — bullseye
red paint
on the back of giants
strolling down memory lanes
to a beat too slow
for the living.
I toss and turn
in a bed of feathers. No,
reverse gear here. I toss
& turn in a bed
of shredded sheep,
grated goat and
crushed camelids. No,
no-no, is that why I toss
and turn, seeking sleep
that never shows. Should I
turn vegan, find sleep
in a bed of — synthetics.
Eyes shut — shut to the light
Outside the carnal cage.
A single solitary blanket
Separates the corpse and a world
Waiting for signs
Of reanimation.
Oil on water — flushed
Down the drain
Goes yesterday’s pain
And streams of black gold
Cleanses a sore throat.
Oil or water — applied without thought.
Like a midwinter morning’s greeting
Every canvas primed in Stygian gloom.
Hues emerge — slowly
Reflections of a world outside
Applied randomly
To create a meaning
Where none be found.
As Nightfall beckons the Day escapes,
Abandoned brushes lie scattered
On trampled soil outside a carnal cage
Where a corpse lies in waiting
For the eyes to shut — for good.
And it was said
He meddled in poetry
ignorant — unawares
the cost implied.
He touched her hand
as though invited
unsuspecting
the chains that bind.
She showed no mercy
as the wheel kept turning
and the water flowed
under bridges burning.
And it was said
his last words written
was a lament
to her absent spirit.
Broom, broom, broomstick
Sweep my consciousness clear
Leave no rock unturned
Erase every trace of mad—
Ness — oh bless < the beings >
At witching hour float
Across the sacred skies
To nocturnal covens new.
Broomstick, broomstick, broom
Sweep my spirit away from doom
Let no memorial cobweb linger
On a dust free soul released.
Blessed be [ the free ]
Blessed be
{ the
sought after }
Blessed be
my reborn broom
Erasing every trace of mad—
ness.
