Monday, June 30, 2008

At the feet of the rich

Need calls the poor to the feet of the rich
but don’t forget once they were lovers in love
proud to own something that cannot be bought
or bartered and sold for trinkets and gold.

Risen from then up into these times
the poor acquire fame and candles that burn
through the storms and the pain, the agony,
of life as it is for the lovers alone.

And the rich getting old deserve their gold
because always we get only what we can give
but you know that, of course, one time you were told,
“Love is more precious than any man’s gold”.

Gold’s heavy, you see, and can’t leave the earth
and always, forever, it’s no use in heaven!

The toad of love

Love isn’t in my daily bread
nor in the corners of
insignificant temptations
so the check, re-check concludes. 

love’s a green/black bloated toad
playing “peek-a-boo, look at me”
in a senseless fantasy
before the hop and drop
into memory.

Toads croak when I’m asleep
and jump the lines of consciousness
meant to confine the mind
to the marshy swamps of life.

And it follows in my footsteps
like a ghostly apparition
in hop from air to land
as if it was a man
floating from a dream
into reality.

I love that toad wrought from soul
and will “tomorrow” when
“There, that’s done – here is love”
evades the obstacles
placed upon a lowly toad
in a fast paced city town.

But toads have left for pastures green
because life has moved the goal posts on
and that hippity-hippity, hip, hop-hop
in my senseless fantasy
maybe just a bug
in the sizzle of my love!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

I want

I want the silence of together
to treat me like a lady
and when apart I want to be
the monarch of your heart.

I want eyes to see the real me,
hands to touch my soul,
and fingertips to gently trace
the lines of my desire.

I want the silence of your choice
to stay beside the river
that flows inside for you
and the silence of your heat
that speaks of love to be.

I want to breathe your ecstasy
mingled with my own
and I want the blend of passion
to still my restlessness.

I want the silence of your smile,
your memories, dreams and needs
and the silence of your mind
that never says goodbye.

And I want you here with me
in the silence of my love!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Under the sky

Under my African sky
people move like robotic fools
wooden and stiff, inflexible,
with the aid of outdated beliefs
held together with unawareness.

I sometimes think a cut and snip
or at least a mental ramp
to enable quick flows of energy
to levels not hitherto reached
and I despair but sit with my hair
undisturbed by anxiousness.

It’s all on the screen, the big picture, see
where reason and purpose are shown
but I, like the rest, don’t watch the film
because fuzzy and blurred, voices unheard,
taxes the mind of the willing to learn.

Tomorrow perhaps I’ll remember again
how to fiddle and tweak for release
from outdated beliefs
but meanwhile intuitive feel
moves within like a rolling pin
to flatten the bumps of ignorance.

Under my African sky
mind moves like a snail, evolves like a bat,
and remains blind to the beauty of love
flickering so on that big movie screen
built on the peak of belief
out of reach it would seem
from all of the fools and me!

Sunday, June 22, 2008

In blend

In blend with the earth
but eyes turn upwards
as if they are pulled by belief
that there in the vastness of space
a full and complete true knowledge base
awaits a poor traveller.

And a traveller knows to move
and knock on the door for relief
from thoughts not in tune and aligned
with what is up there inscribed
but no illumination
from an unblinking stare.

'tis the mind, you see, not the eyes
that knows to travel and see
but blended with good mother earth
it stares like a frog catching flies
and thinks it is staying alive.

Stare as I might I ne’er can alight
from life’s little merry go-round
until at last I stare with the mind
and step into a true knowledge base
that illuminates and advises
on how to make everything right.

And even a frog can knock
when moved by the force of love
to blend and yet jump free
from humanity’s misaligned thoughts!

Friday, June 20, 2008

Down the line

Down the line the mind decides
to simply die as is
but, lo behold, there’s snow in spring
and mind must re-decide
because frozen roots a hindrance
to the furtherance of life.

So unbeknown there follows then
an upturn of the known
that flings the mind right back again
to the start of something grand
that lost its way amongst the trials
of life’s demanding ways.

Back, back, and further back;
it was summer then, you know,
when flowers beautified the land
like love in its first bloom
and when the trees spoke volumes
to a heart not yet of age.

To come of age a lonely time
and how a woman moans
when separated and divorced
from what she’s meant to know
but slowly, slowly, quietly
like snow that falls in spring
she changes into who she is
and who she’s always been.

And in this guise she’s simply me
and you can be you too
if mind decides to re-decide
to not die as it once was
frozen in a loveless state
that flings us back again
to the trials of life that ne’er beget
the true and lasting meaningful!

Thursday, June 19, 2008

The Why

Where once the pain of lonely days
now the gain of safe alone
to hold and cosset, nurture, feel,
the could have been that wasn’t
but in that cuddle close to mind
rage rises like a hurricane
to twist and turn complacency
into the question, “Why?”.

And dependent on the time of night
Why begets a data string
that knots itself upon itself
like a sci-fi animal
with its own agenda.

But always in the breathe, breathe in,
a knowledge base appears
somewhere beyond the eyesight
of a transitory mind
housed within the confines
of my humanity.

Large and clear and bright and good
there waits within the shadow lands
the truth of every Why
uttered deep and mournfully
when memories arise
like yesterday, today, and when
love pops in to mind.

Safe alone the strings of mind
unravel when I cry
and bend and force the soul into
this transitory mind
but still the Why, the Why, the Why,
burrows in and settles down
until the final night of life
begets another state of mind!

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Four roses

Three roses there were
mind, body and soul
and the other one waiting to be
but the heart doesn't wait to receive
before the giving for free
and so there were four
red roses in all.

Gone are the days of poetic dreams
but proof can be found in the heart
beating and pumping
one, two, three, four,
one, two, three, four,
because always that little bit extra
comes to be when the heart’s in play.

Any less is a sheer falsity,
any more sends it over the line
right into the arms of fantasy
always waiting to have the last laugh.

And when it is time to receive
and be a lover for real
one, two, three, four
red roses in all
enlightens mind to the sweetness
so long been denied.

Four roses, four, four,
and love goes on as before!