untitled

There is fuck all that makes me cry
these days

I have hardened
like earth beneath a relentless summer
baked
and cracked
and dry

But today
the silence of the singing sands
is a report
shattering ear drums
and stopping traffic

It has made the war mongers pause
guns cocked but not firing

It has made the music fade away
into a drone of static

The children have jumped off
the swings
and gathered up their
mothers hands
standing beside them without a word

The mobile phones have stopped ringing
cars rolling to rest in empty streets

The sound of broken glass
is quiet


The lapping of waves
gone

For the singing sands are silent

and I cannot

cannot

recall their song.

Where we will be.

We are going beyond the boundaries
of the flat plains

into the heat haze
shimmering
beckoning wave

there will be empty pump bottles
and lolly wrappers stuffed into
arm rests on car doors.

There will be music
and faces seeking answers
in blurred bitumen.

We are going where the sun lies
still
red
ageless
in a poker face sky

It will linger
long beyond the cautious
probing fingers of nights
tentative first caress

laying rouge tiger strips
across my arm
the one dotted with too many freckles
resting out the car window

You and I
will ride in silence
words not required
as we move towards the same place
occasional half smiles offered and accepted.

Techno will leak
in tinny tones
from the backseat
almost contained by ipod
nano
shuffle
etc etc

Sometimes
a complaint about
my cd mix
will come sliding over the headrest
to slip around my throat
and tug gently
only to retreat
with resigned sighs

We move
beyond the boundaries
of the flat plain
and into
a waiting suns
patient eye.

Faith *Scecond Draft*

In unity

we strove.

Banners
raised above
the howling throng.

Our voices
took hold.

Hooked through flesh and bone
sinew for chains
we hung ourselves out upon
the dead oak branches.

Weeping
steeped in lore
ancient tears
trembled
and spilled upon
us.

Faces upraised
to receive sorrows

We took our faith
and broke it upon the surface of
La Tene
a thousand years past.

The offerings have changed
with the advent of isolation.

We have
only moments to give.

Where blood was once
the chant of hymn

Sacrifice
the succour of bountiful
pulsing life.


Beholden to none
we share stone and shield.

Frail ceramics
to remember us.

Pewter vessels
moulded in the softening fires
of the slain

Cooled in the raging mill pond
of time.

Mica shall be the colour of renewal
chipped and polished to gleam.

Embraced
I am Christ and Allah
Buddha and Vishnu.

Empowered
I am the earth mother
sleeping as my breast
feeds the multitude.

In unity
we return

*Note* I have trimmed out some of the early modifiers, thoughts?

Untitled

Blink neonic dreams
the blue
reflects off tears

I see you in desperation
the adrenalin kiss thrust
where eyes tick left right
in rapid successions

Pulsing with guitar echo's
a low scream building
beneath the flesh
enticing vanilla ice cream smiles

We trade in-a-whiles
our carefully nurtured nonchalance
a plastic cling wrap mirror
of deeper seasons
and all the reasons
we do not say anything

The humming of stand by
rising
to
fever pitch

till your skin itches
hair erects
and time collects
in the calluses on our palms.

I see you
in inclinations

the way you recline naked
steeped in a chardonnay smiles
languid layers of complexities
curling wild vines across your flesh.

And we

will never be

or be enough.