Monthly Archives: August 2020

Ben

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Did I ever tell you about Ben,
tall guy I once knew
a good friend
someone I’ve never really talked to,
like you,
a wonderful guy
of the sorts that fall from the sky,
he played the violin
those days he needn’t take an aspirin,
for he was hot,
he was hot…

did I ever tell you about Ben
or the song I wrote for you,
in my desert
it was a jewel
in a world that is cruel
the notes got stuck,
so perfect
could make The Giants bow,
he never did hear
the ear it was deaf
to the words that he lacked…

I remember Ben
for the stars he could not see
the rhythms not understood,
he played the violin
I was drawn to The Sea
a wave of you
over a wave of me,
coffee in a cup for tea…
one time only I’ve asked
if beyond the stars
he taught there was life,
but he never looked back
stayed in bed
white lilies under his head
and walked away forever…

so did I ever tell you
Ben came from above,
a night in the Castle Park
looking for a purple star
he made his way through,
to you…
the very last touch
a rosebud for a birthday,
left me a journal
in a language amiss,
not in the sentence
but the way I should have kissed…

but Ben was wrong –

The Dance

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There is a time
it’s most days hidden
when the dark veil falls to ground,
curtains open to the few that still believe in love
and the nights be getting longer
filled with words that make the dreamers want to rise
you and I shall talk till morning catching nameless countless stars,
we’ll be making the dissection with a rusty human knife
in a double blinded trial
we’ll be sailing running kites,
finding threads to build a story strong as Russian Kevlar vests
and a backyard with an oak for our golden restless mutt,
not afraid to ask the questions
not afraid to listen to
answers are embracing shivers
knowing me and knowing you,
falling deep we’ll find the ladder
adding steps up to our heavens if we go shall be together
hand in hand or souls like feathers,
are you ready for the treasure
diamond feelings that no other could have measured…

Reflection

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Submerged
I write
the flickery path no one takes anymore
from the moon
through mountains
back to my second left toe…

My thoughts diffuse
as endless waves travel
on a surface of still that I touched,
with raspberry roots
which are all left to be culled,
and
my hands are frozen…

A kiss,
on the moss in the shadows,
yellow dream
like a glimpse of unexpected,
forests rise
over the pond at the end of the world
over eyes
over giants
over time
a fence between the green and the purple.

And my mouth gets filled
with scents
nostrils with fire
from the inside,
lighting the cord that’s keeping me here,
birthing the Sun
and the river…

$ld: ldump –raw

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Where is the… the raw cruel pain of being alive? I had dreams for a while. I remember having them. At least for some time. They would often come out like popcorn in the microwave: salty or sweet, hot at first and with a smoky aftertaste. Simpler days, when reading under the blankets at 1 AM was the best it could get. And following the lines of an old library tome I was escaping reality, somewhere far beyond where anything was possible…

The raw and the cruel are right here. COVID-19, Australian fires, Florida storms, plane crashes, killer hornets… But is that all so abnormal that we feel suffocated or maybe it was always out there in a form or another and what is actually happening is just a sick form of feeding hard to swallow information to everybody in order to induce mass psychosis and depression. I don’t say we shouldn’t be careful and protect ourselves or that all of the above is fantasy. But what if all this negativism thrown at us just another form of war? What if we needed a war in order to progress, to boost “post-war” economy, to shake us form the procrastination that engulfed us as of lately?

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