Saturday, December 25, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
High he sat over the water,
Slowly reaching his hands into the slaughter below.
They were gentle, in their execution,
Almost a sullen feline grace.
It caught his eye, suddenly,
The parable he saw in his reflection.
"This is not mine", he reasoned
With a predicatively waning resolve that had seen better days.
A slow, sweeping glance around and the sight
was revealed to Him,
The sky, yellow with surrender, red with spite,
Merging seamlessly with the ooze crawling out of what was once blue with life.
He was the only one still sitting,
With the rest scattered around, still and seemingly comfortable.
A final laboured effort to look up and exhale with guilty relief,
He afforded himself a smile, before collapsing into the ground.
Still and seemingly comfortable.
The horizon was a straight line, devoid in any indentation.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
And the windows let the air through.
Can I ask myself another question,
While the record player loops?
A faint smell wafted from where I undid my shoe.
I tried to keep it low.
She said she didn't want to see the orange glow,
So I pretended to settle back in my seemingly juvenile groove.
Helps both ways if you can see through the nook
And crannies too.
Searching for things just out of arms' reach,
The mind conjures images it probably should not view.
Sifting through sand is no job for a cowboy.
Stacked high in shelves like paperwork in a hardware store.
I stole a quick glance while I tried to sweep the floor clean,
And the patch I missed smiled back at me, languid and slow.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I am but a journeyman.
Ambiguous, you might say, but it makes perfect sense.
I trade my knowledge and emotions,
My shoes and my traditions,
For a sense of contentment that we search for; usually vapidly.
Places remained from my memory
Of a time when the hands of the clock refused to budge.
They just moved in the back of my mind,
Reminding this fluid for the lack of a better word.
Like a black swan anomaly.
Like snow in a desert.
The cello creakes silently against the winter sun.
It plays a melancholic polytone as the credits drop
Languidly over the vivid screen of life.
It was a good year and warrants a better start,
But, being human is a deterrent to an otherwise perfect world.
I'd rather not have my epitaph written in stone.
Let it be blank. You are cordially invited to scribble a thought or two.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
And Levi's never invented the rivets.
A new idea born out of a juggled mind
Gorged with white lines drawn surreptitiously clean,
Evokes a sense of rapture that envelopes every other sense.
When goals are set to tones
Reminiscent of the licks the left-handed guitarist conjured,
You can safely assume that you have slowly drifted into uncharted territory
That might seem inviting at first,
But gets ugly when the reptiles trudge away, content, and satiated with a full belly.
Ideas set in stone mirror hopes left behind.
Breaks between the glass lets the shallow air through.
The virtue called Grace might just slip through unnoticed
After that lunatic evening by the poolside.
Tend to the soul with a drink by the sea perhaps.
Stare closer into the looking glass once awake.
It is human to delineate the emotions that surface on such short notice.
Brush away that hair sitting brazenly by your lip
And take heart in the fact that the water the tap emits is still comfortably cold.
Takes little time to turn that gift of God into a tepid collection of unwanted muck.
Shoes help us walk with ease,
All the while keeping us inches away from the ground.
We never really 'hit the road' ; We glide nonchalantly over sharp stones and broken pavements.
Forgiveness is a coherent decision to listen,
When we realize we need to reconcile with our indifference.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I feel the cold stone floors sometimes,
In my mind when I miss
Desperately seeking his mother’s assistance.
I remember the public transport and the masters of speed.
Who overcharge, overwhelm, oversteer and overload
Your senses with curses, black smoke, busted suspensions and broken meters.
And then there was the rain.
I recall the nights of relentless staring
At the 17 inch LCD screen that somehow
Held together my monthly wage,
And the daily pack of Navy Cut that I cherished so.
I reminisce about the game nights,
The wanton screaming fuelled by litres of Kingfisher and the proponent of good highs.
A late, albeit goliath bite at the only eatery open at 3 am,
Followed by an afternoon of peace that silently made its presence felt.
I relive those bass-filled drives with
Absent friends and a clear head.
A quick stop at a gas station to replenish the depleted chocolate stock
And pose for photographs with random strangers in the background.
I play the tunes that we used to think we composed
Out of sheer nonchalance and alcohol-induced indulgence.
Don’t take me wrong: we had our moments of pure genius
And more moments of sheer senselessness.
I correlate the good times gone bad and
The bad times that miraculously morphed into the great.
Somehow, between the shades they met with a clear conscience,
Striking a deal to keep misery at hand’s length.
I contemplate the differences and the similarities.
So much of them we had, refusing to let them stand the in way
Of a higher cause that vaguely resembled hope.
The reflection slowly fades, like ripples on the surface
Ease their turbulent energy, pacifying themselves.
Conjoined ideas shimmer under a clear moonlit sky
As friends join hands to pass around a solitary ember,
Wishing the smoke never dissipates.