Sanctuary

Sanctuary, where the sun meets the sea
And we can sit suspended for a week
Free floating in the breeze
Just the dull thump of your pulse
And the red warmth through our eyelids
An instrument resonating life
Vibrating spectrums
Of sensation we're just ripples passing along,
Synthethesic; in the ocean, on the guagua,
On your bed on Christmas day with Jim Morrison
And one year from now feeling it all again
All the same moment exploding and reforming
Curving, bending, describing a flawless whole.

Miles Davis Photograph

A Miles Davis photograph in black and white triggers Deja vu. I try to hold it like always. Even more so this time because I want to feel impotent, devoid of responsibility. I want the rails to come back underneath.Miles is set, boxed, polished. And even so in that moment he's taut, considering something out of shot, the soft focus surrounding a pefect set for his dramtic tableau, Miles is Miles. That's what I felt then and now I do again, comfortable in the inexplicable familiarity Who could begrudge me that?

poetry (November 2009)

You're like poetry
Softly spoken to the ear
Never a word wasted
Never an emotion unexcited
Happiness in being
Acceptance of a state and yet
Communication of light years of meaning
Your audience awaits another line
For it may always be the last before life turns the page.

Terms of Agreement

A new ethic, disdaining the
Mirrors and simple replicated patterns
That have held sway these months
Not pausing to swap yoke for yoke, like for like unevenly weighed
Inexpertly carried
But a lighter load carried longer, further
I've placed my trust without being asked
Invested my hope with no assurance
So why fret?
This contract is between me and the Universe.

work and wonder

One month, give or take a day
Since I last heard from you
And not a day has gone by without you in my thoughts
Sometimes I wonder and sometimes I work
Curiousity hasn't killed me yet
But give it time
The person I aspire to be
Provides for his own,
Repays his debts, takes the weight
Pays respect
Speaks with his actions and
Listens with his soul
The next month I live
Starting with the next day
I'll work harder toward being him
And wonder less if I CAN be.

Escalation

People fall through the cracks
And congregate there around the fires of their dead
Bar rooms loud and potent
Full of mingled hurt and self injury
Bravado is an insult shared
From the mighty to the pitiful
High on self possession and world weary ritual convulsions
Each lodges at her own level
Clawing for purchase and a meaning compatible with nullified cognition
Settlements and enclaves divorced
From the fearful questions of a new state
Lifestyle designed to blot it out
Agonize self consciously
But just don’t think
Lifestyle designed to blot it out
Agonize self consciously
perpetual mechanism lubricated with drink
Welcoming arms and closed minds
Suffocate the compassion in me
I consume and steep in guilt
Feel the cracks open up beneath
Before I avoid
I will escalate
Touch you this last time and raise the temperature
To burn off the solution marinating your soul

Canvas

What makes a relationship? A western one that is
The leap from a daydream to an indulgence to a loss
If only we all asked ourselves these questions harder, earlier, more honestly
Then perhaps man child bravado and coquettish facetiousness would not hold sway over our generation, stoically holding our intellect paralysed at the altar of satisfaction bound
Ripe for sacrifice
Now I'm gaining perspective and keeping pain
Should I gain coldness, cool clear detachment and analyse lust for love's sake?
If that was me and you weren't you then this moment could never be...
You spoke of perfection, you praised me to the heavens and it humbled me
Crushed me beyond repair, made me smile with a sadness these people might never imagine of me like I couldn't imagine or have believe what you feel I can provide
Were my biggest function in life to be as the canvas for your thoughts what joys of freedom I might experience; gaining colour, texture, shape, changing fundamentally losing factory stiffness dropping my blank cool flatness and becoming living art
-exhaling-
magic in new inspired forms, the children of the interplay between your ideas and intution, what more could one imagine?
What else would one live for? you spoke to me of indulgence, well indulge me
Tell me every thought or fear, share your heart's desire upon my surface, speak of god or government or family, of ugliness and beauty, I don't care,
My faith as your instrument lives to feel your words splash upon me and spread, soaking to my centre, running in the grain, mixing becoming, setting until the moment your work is finished and when it comes my faith is you will recognise the time to lay down tools and walk, leaving indulged in satisfaction, not before you leave your name in me