Spring Rain

Rain against the window
A staccato beat telling me
"Don't think I'll water your plants!
You should have left the clothes out.
I enjoy making them all wet again."
It thunders at me to pay attention,
Random flashes of temper light the room,
Wind howls around corners

Flicking the electricity on and off

Angry children acting out 

Each vying for center stage

On! Off! Crash! Flash! Beating

Ever softer a staccato rhythm

"You ruined all our fun... 

You ruined all our fun..."

Mahler

Warm dark chocolate slowly melting in the sun
Fingers travelling down, tracing contours,  having fun
Traversing valleys, aromatic spices blending
One person beginning the other never ending
Music dripping into the empty spaces,
Past and present entwine.  Embraces
gathering momentum, passion and heat.
Blind passions sweeping reason of it's feet.

Howl (2010)

Oh My Gods!  Exploration of Ginsberg's epic poem and the controversy surrounding it!  Think about the fuss over Gable not giving a damn a few years earlier (1939) then Ginsberg comes out and talks about sodomy and male genitalia (1954)!  


Ginsberg was a gay rights and mental health activist at a time when both were viewed as things to lock away and hide.  He was a man searching for spirituality and peace in a country searching for another excuse to go to war and using the fear of Communism and the love of a White Baptist God to do so.


Howl breaks the poetic conventions of rhyme, line length, metrical pattern, and overall poetic structure.  It is a free form streaming of consciousness exploring his own childhood, his countries politics and the lives of those around him.  


When I first read Howl it opened my eyes to what language could be.  Secondary school poetry was rigidly classified by meeting the conventions.  It had to rhyme, it had to be in stanzas, it had to be able to be clapped to.  Crassness had no place in poetry, you could use metaphor but not meta-phwoar.  


For someone on a diet of Blake, Shelley, Keats, Lawson and Patterson Howl opened me to my own voice.


Stream of consciousness was OK.  The poem became about expressing who you were, where you were, when you were.  It became a statement of the larger picture and removed the constraints of "Today you will write a piece on happiness" which seemed to be the English teachers idea of introducing people to poetry.  (No wonder so many of my friends think that poetry peaked with the Raven and the writings of Dr Suess!)


Howl helped me go from:


The little bird on it's branch
Dreams of the far off ranch
It spreads it's wings into the sky
Drifting on the wind up high
Freedom like this makes him happy
Meter and rhythm are so crappy

To:

Happiness... the hollow pursuit
The needing to own and be owned
Possessions filling the voids in our souls
The latest, the greatest, the next must have thing

Happiness... sitting alone in the dark
Waiting for a call you know won't come
Fooling yourself that his preoccupation is you
Dreaming that the next moment the cell will ring

Happiness... that myth espoused from the pulpit
That carrot dangled in our faces hinting
Showing us the afterlife that is gone!
An empty space filled with advertising and shopping

Happiness co-opted by corporations
Governments in four year spaces
Lies upon lies, smile it will be better,
The panacea of our times, the band-aid to fix all things

Thank you Mr Ginsberg.

May 13th, 2007

Two pieces, neither published.


and in the passing of those held dear
we reflect back, shed a tear
regret the times we did not spend
an idle moment with departed friend
memories come unbidden now
of days gone past, of where, of how
we curse that they have gone away
wish them here to always stay
we remember smiles, forget the face
knowing they are lost to eternities embrace



I see he who is most important before me
I feel his arms embrace me again
He has held me while I cry in pain
Seen the heartache of phone calls not received
The emptiness of nights with no other
Experiencing each tear I wept as his own
Through childhood misery and fear
He has led me through adolescence
After each rejection he has given me acceptance
A guiding hand, a kind word, a smile
He has encouraged my dreams, laughed at my follies
I see he who is most important before me
I feel his arms drop away as he embraces sleep
I take my first steps into adulthood... alone

For one night only

Unpublished.

I see you now upon the stage
Shattner-esque your diarrhoea rage
You say things now as if emotion
Is your muse now from you fled

I remember when I first saw you
Thought "There's an arse I can bite into"
And heard your words of childhood lost
The beauty of you soul come across

A few drinks later, a few smokes more
We did the verbal dance of phwoar
Insults half meant, comments barbed
Designed to make you very hard

Smoked some more, almost drunk
Back towards your bed we slunk
Clothes fast shed, inhibitions too
As you showed very nicely what a tongue could do

A moment of beauty cut short by health
As airways closed from polluting stealth
Me gone at daylight for funeral, a friend...
And your past comes to finish what I would not end.

You spread your version of the truth
Knowing those lies, so uncouth,
My ears they may never reach
But indiscretionsa lesson teach

I learned to never trust a man
To never let them see heart's plan
A lesson learnt one hurtful night
Of love, of sex, of wrong, of spite.

American Pie

Unpublished

American Pie

I’m naked beside Monroe
As the coldness rushes in
Jones and Epstein are fighting
Over who gets to teach me how to swim

Sylvia’s writing my soliloquy
But she doesn’t know where to start
I’m Brandon Lee’s stand in
It’s a really killer part

I’ve had Hemmingway offer me advice
On how to hunt and the use of a gun
John Wayne’s offered me a movie,
A western, in the New Mexico sun

I’m getting driving lessons from Jimmy
Now the Spyder’s service is done…
So leave me standing at the world trade center
Buddy and I are waiting for our plane to come in.

Popsuicety

Unpublished


Pop suiciety


Michael’s offered me some rope
Kurt the use of his gun
I’ve a ticket on Lynyrd Skynyrd’s plane
My journey’s just begun

River’s encouraging me to try
Some stuff that Joplin recommends.
Mama Cass is making the sandwiches
For a picnic that will never end.

Denver has offered to pilot me,
Then Harlow a lift to my home;
While Lennon is standing behind me
Chapman is out on the roam.

Cleaned up: Coffee, Cafe and Cupcakes

Unpublished

CAFÉ

How is this?
I sit alone
Sipping latte
Burning my lips
Killing time

I listen to the conversations
Imagine lives at home
Jobs held, cars driven
While my pen plays at the paper
An insect dipped in ink crawling away
Letting my thoughts run wild

Still I wait
Each minute a death knoll
`Til I can be with you
To see your act of Rudi gore
To applaud your G&S
So I wait,
Sipping Latte,
Burning my tongue,
And thinking of you.

The Blues

Unpublished
Performed

THE BLUES

I got the blues so bad my soul lays open and bare
I got the blues so bad as I lie here waiting for someone to care

I got the blues so bad Holly Golightly is telling me there the mean reds
JD Sallinger is standing to catch me if I fallout of bed
Munsch is painting my sorrow, Bessie smith crying for my song
And Maslow screams at me to try and explain where it all went wrong

I got the blues so bad that I'm keeping Cadbury's Nestle and Smiths going
The radio constantly plays Isaak and Floyd,  Dylan and Lennon and Cohen
My eyes burn red for the tears that they have no longer to cry
A heart of stone calls out for feeling, for emotion, that it may fly

I got the blues so bad my head is thudding like a funeral drum
All I can focus on is the warm embrace of death to come
The Parlor is booked, the church on stand by, the worms hunger
As my life continues to spiral out of control, pulling me under

I got the blues so bad my soul lays open and bare
I got the blues so bad as I lie here waiting for someone to care.

Relatives

RELATIVES

Look behind the eyes in the emptiness of her face
Behold what you have all done in your ignorance
You took so much suckling at her breast again, again
Till she was dry, desolate, with nothing left
Can you see behind the eyes, in the emptiness of her face
Do you behold what your tongues have created
Do you leave behind your lies for her to grasp
The straws of a dying woman vanishing in your wind
Have you seen behind the eyes at the emptiness in her face
Have you looked out at the desolate wastelands before her
You who took so much and left so little, you her prodigal offspring,
She who has given you so much, she who has none left with which to live.

Bourbon

Unpublished


BOURBON

Another drink of bourbon please
I slur across at the bartender
The look of pity in his eyes I ignore
Another drink of bourbon please
I hear my voice become slightly louder
The slight plea as pathetic as last nights liaison
Please, another drink of bourbon
I begin to beg fearing his response
I can pay  for it all, I think
Please another drink of bourbon
I become confused and jumbled
My sweet lover gleefully withheld
DRINK BOURBON NOW
Guttering lights, flicker consciousness
Lying alone in the dark
Street sweeper nearing, memory lost
The last sip a sweet memory
The last drink to long ago

Necrophilia

Unpublished

Necrophilia

What you see before you is a hell that once was living
The calcium deposits that outline a once human thing
You see the vague shape that was a face
The empty gaze of sockets focused in space
You listen to the empty echo of it's thoracic
You can hear the last beat of it's heart's depravity
You store her once voluptuous being on ice
Wonder if it ever held life before yours
See before you the remnant of the shell
You've wined it, dined it, fucked it over
Like all who've come before you
You attempt to make it live again
Promise it the sweet breath of love, of life
You promise, you promise, you break.

Stumble Stumble Don't Fall

Stumble, stumble, don't fall.



Allow me my peace
Allow me my rest
My solitude
Do not deny me my past
Do not deny me who I am

For I have been on a journey
From where I cannot say
But now I am here

And I am now who I am

Deny me that and deny me breath
For no longer do I walk with death
No longer am I…

Entering again
Becoming lost, wanting you,
Not understanding, not able to have you
Cannot find you, need help, cannot
Want to, coping, slipping, help me, help me
Help me….

I walk alone now
But at least, I still walk

Fashion

Unpublished

FASHION


Coldness the fingers of early morning mist
Slowly penetrating the dark fugue of memory
I stretch myself out feeling the emptiness return
I envisage the colors you use to hide your inner black
I feel the stiffness of your linens, the cheapness of your top
We are the children that the goddess Luna has embraced
We, who shun the absurdity of those who walk with Sol
We, who you draw back from with the fear of ignorance
It is we who pity you and your hiding
You draw your ideas from Vogue, your attitudes are Cleo
You ignore comfort for fashion, style over substance
In your lemon, your limes, your pinks and your peaches
You think it suits your peroxide and henna mentality
Your failure to accept others on appearance alone
While clinging desperately to an ever-changing world
A world offering no hand holds, just 50% off
And at one point your integrity sold, your intelligence bargained
You become the droids and clones of our brave new world
Now you only change your clothes, your hair, your colors
Your only inconsistency lies in appearing as different
So, alone, once more I shut my eyes and beg for Morte
 Once more I strive to escape from your fashion,
From your hatred of that feeds off others souls
As you strive to get a better grip on the latest fad.

Penfriends

Unpublished

PENFRIENDS.

I suck on the end of my pen drawing the black lid between my lips
Like a lover I lost to another  Like the only friend I have left
I play it's plastic smoothness across my tongue Remembering his hollow kiss
Infrequently neurosis creep onto paper While I continue to suck on my pen
Listening to music long ago bastardized by a Nescafe ad   Metallic taste on lips
Spilling pretensions onto paper Grasping the pen ever tighter
The soul mate I never knew   The dearest friend  in the process of dying
Struggling with sight, vision fails Candle gutters wax drips down
Viewing the red run over the paper bloody quill in one hand
Tears of blood like Steven's fall   alone again, chewing on pen
Discarding the remains Choosing another
I slowly draw him to my lips   Beginning again
Sucking on the end of my pen   Hoping to god Ink doesn't stain.

Critique

Unpublished

CRITIQUE


Your so sharp wit is blunted with age
You rant your words in imitation rage
The lies fly forth below the truth
Your manners not charming, appearance uncouth
I listen enthralled at the web that you spin
And wonder how you've dragged me in
Your prose flies forth encompassing fear
Showing me the mirror into which I do peer.

Saturday Morning 10am.

Unpublished: Except Facebook
Performed: Dan O'Connor, 2005


I feel his kiss upon my cheek
His insistent caress warms me
I know I should arise
To embrace the day he offers me
But I am warm here
And the arms he offers are cold
They belie a bitter betrayal
His Luna Lover has left again
Exploding him into being
Color and light, mist entwines.
I throw the blankets over
And release the curtains hold

Isobel: 22 April 2008

I walk in to the room, she lies asleep. She's tossing and turning, her face against the toys on the side of the cot. I move her, concerned that she may occlude her mouth and nose and smother herself. I re cover her where she's kicked off the blankets then sit and watch her a while.

She cries a little about being disturbed but is soon asleep again, her favourite teddy clutched under one arm. Is this her nightly protector that wards off the bad dreams that I fear already haunt her?

Who is she? Who was she? I can see images of long dead relatives in her face. Is she my Nana returned to me or the grandmother I never knew? Is she an old soul sent from Orkney along with her name, or a new being designed by the angels to heal and help?

Her eyes are amazing when they are open. The darkness of the colour like the sea on a calm moonless night, navy blue with unknown depths. Strangers comment on her eyes. " So big..." "It's the way the white goes all around..." "So knowledgeable..."

I'd love to know what she dreams, what she thinks... I'd love to know what goes on behind those eyes.

Erotica

Unpublished: Exception Facebook


When you say you love her look at her
Look at the entire person lying before you
See the haunted look in eyes that have seen
All the losses and pain such admissions bring
Feel the roughness of lips, raw from biting
Holding in hurts that others freely spit out
Taste the saltiness of tears and blood
Mingling together as her heart lays bare
See the child inside and embrace the lost woman
Fear keeping her going when others have fallen
Do not just see the person you once knew
See the person now, and love them
Knowing that to truly love is sacrifice
It's giving up yourself to the trust and faith of another
It's not a game to be played so you can make your end
It's every day, it's good, it's bad, it's indescribably hurtful
It's laying yourself naked, bereft of all chances to cover yourself
So that another holds you, in their heart, in their hope
It's listening to the truths when you want to hear lies
Knowing that the air you breath every day
Means so much more with that person beside you

See the person lying naked before you
Before you caress her with your mouth, your tongue, your words
Look deep within and see what she reflects back at you
As she lies there, vulnerable, anticipating your next move

Post Coital Contemplations

Unpublished: Exception Facebook


When was the last time you lay
Another holding you inside
Taking the time to inhale their scent
Feeling their breath against your neck
Being still in a moment, not rushing to finish
Not exploring the swell of her breast
Nor cupping the gentle curve of her cheek
No movement save lips, gently meeting
No sound but hearts racing, blood rushing
Feeling her juices lubricate you
Her muscles drawing you deeper within...

When was the last time you were still in the moment?