--------------------
this day: October 15 2006
--------------------
Written in red.
MMM... So much to say.. So many emotions.
In the commotion of it all.
Old times mixed with newness of growth and growing a p a r t.
Me
finding happiness and moving along.. the normalcy of a friendship when yesterdays are left in a field of fog... No attraction
actions..
Holding onto my promise and feelings of my heart of today surfacing. enjoying the moment. The win. The wind.
Craziness of screams and smiles, high fives of carelessness..
The resurrection of connection that has been lost.
For a moment, a night, a goodbye of sorts-
A conquered fear on my sidewalk..
An open door to friendship.
A good night, fun and innocent.
An amazing baseball game.
Love for understanding and letting me be free.
Be me.
She is beautiful.
I am lucky.
We all are if we consider it.
Sunday 14 February 2010
blank and tank
12-2-10
The White album. Like these scathed boots oh so tight. Today.
Like the blank canvas called
our sky-
scuffed only by the film on the glass.
I am in the tank.
We all are-
swimming.
Sea. Monkeys.
Urchins.
Searching for a wave. A current. Ripples on barriers.
Again.
All men-minus two. With intent six eyes play and I day. Dream.
With the smear of speed like the swipe of a thumb upon wet paint.
We are nothing more than a moment and this, not even a second
thought.
The White album. Like these scathed boots oh so tight. Today.
Like the blank canvas called
our sky-
scuffed only by the film on the glass.
I am in the tank.
We all are-
swimming.
Sea. Monkeys.
Urchins.
Searching for a wave. A current. Ripples on barriers.
Again.
All men-minus two. With intent six eyes play and I day. Dream.
With the smear of speed like the swipe of a thumb upon wet paint.
We are nothing more than a moment and this, not even a second
thought.
Thursday 11 February 2010
TEn tO tEn
10.2.10
I won't chase-
Sunshine of brothers being a beautiful glow-
shadows traced at the Idiot in the village. A blue blanket above and this moment.
awareness of that time before-
a pause
and a red circle-
a stare-
a lid pool.
gratitude for now.
Power of a flower and calmness of colour.
Dots and stripes.
Hype.
and a royal mail man.
Men.
Write.
Sleep.
Read.
Text.
Game?
Listen.
Lean.
wait.
only one other woman upon this sheet of tin.
Do I count? Does that mean two?
By two by four-
Building blocks.
Houses like those for dolls. Perfectly placed in patterns. Pillows fluffed. Hues so bright.
A seemingly spring day.
Daze.
Shaking train-
trained to press. The pavement-persistence-
with resistance-
passing with a lasso,
I see it.
I taste it.
Cherry sorbet along the horizon.
I won't chase-
Sunshine of brothers being a beautiful glow-
shadows traced at the Idiot in the village. A blue blanket above and this moment.
awareness of that time before-
a pause
and a red circle-
a stare-
a lid pool.
gratitude for now.
Power of a flower and calmness of colour.
Dots and stripes.
Hype.
and a royal mail man.
Men.
Write.
Sleep.
Read.
Text.
Game?
Listen.
Lean.
wait.
only one other woman upon this sheet of tin.
Do I count? Does that mean two?
By two by four-
Building blocks.
Houses like those for dolls. Perfectly placed in patterns. Pillows fluffed. Hues so bright.
A seemingly spring day.
Daze.
Shaking train-
trained to press. The pavement-persistence-
with resistance-
passing with a lasso,
I see it.
I taste it.
Cherry sorbet along the horizon.
Monday 8 February 2010
SunDay the SEvEnth
I always walk this littered road.
No Sunday solace to see-
Rusted can-
partial scarecrow man
and clothing hung in a tree.
Hub caps, bottle caps, wrappers, butts and bag-
thrown out the window
by passerbys
upon green shattered glass I lag.
Tires and tires and tiredly-
I tiptoe toward the start,
a heavy lock and an oxidized chain,
I beg not to fall a part
of me
is here and another bit is there
expectedly
within that realm of nothing but a tear.
A rip
her drips
on morning travels home-
Possessions stolen from her shoulder,
she chased them,
screams unknown.
Grassy blades, sharpened-
first night.
New box.
Blue door.
Chased through blinks and winks as I never have before.
Questioning it all-
my place
my breath
my choice.
No other option but the ink,
only this of rhyme and voice.
A pattern to distract
a journey-
yet another ride.
Frozen digits like fish fingers
and
in my shell I hide.
Red drivers press hard zooming,
pedal with jerk from either side-
I sway forth and back and a woman sits beside.
me smelling like wood,
similar to a hardware store,
I inhale and commit
to having a better day today than before.
Lady Lumber
minus slumber
Party on, I stumble.
With a shake,
a rattle
and a rasp-
and my soft Sunday stomach grumble.
SaTurDay TuRn bAck (13) delAYed
------------------
Another (delayed) Saturday turn back.
This day: 29-10-09
-------------------
A waiter by the window.
Yellow backpack.
A purse hunt /treasure dig.
Purple plastic of Tate.
Paper passer.
Heavy metal leather.
large S.
First inhalation.
Half circles above rectangles.
The Old Bell. Crowd awaits.
Hood court.
Arrow to the sky.
Big pumpkin.
Balls of steel.
Stained glass diamonds.
Built in 1624.
RAM.
WINE BAR in bigs.
A crunchy leaf.
"I never painted my own dreams."
Flyer taken.
The Coal Hole.
Stringy stairway,
The Strand.
Sequins.
Paper hat.
Trench.
All out the window.
Another (delayed) Saturday turn back.
This day: 29-10-09
-------------------
A waiter by the window.
Yellow backpack.
A purse hunt /treasure dig.
Purple plastic of Tate.
Paper passer.
Heavy metal leather.
large S.
First inhalation.
Half circles above rectangles.
The Old Bell. Crowd awaits.
Hood court.
Arrow to the sky.
Big pumpkin.
Balls of steel.
Stained glass diamonds.
Built in 1624.
RAM.
WINE BAR in bigs.
A crunchy leaf.
"I never painted my own dreams."
Flyer taken.
The Coal Hole.
Stringy stairway,
The Strand.
Sequins.
Paper hat.
Trench.
All out the window.
fRidAy the fifTH
__________
Last
Fri
day
__________
No Rain, but suspect-
Proof in puddles and reflection of trickery.
Blind Melons for breakfast and my pocket (left) alone. Cheese and tomatoes take me.The last formality of a Friday,
in that space.
Down the stairs of slip, six. A bid of hopes of good and rush the usual way. The previously known to be- usual day.
Further disillusioned.. distracted.. cavity of resilience.
I finally remembered that word.
Resilience.
It sinks and stinks.
Familiar faces at the place so many times I stood a wait.
The usual woman.
Jet black hair, faux fur hat-shopping bags.
Long face-kind heart.
Like Tia Francesca. The bigger of the three.
I've noticed-her partial run across street...
Two-stride high. Knees..
Mother and son again-on the bone-she slept through a blockbuster. Hit. Me. In the face with
small beauties.
The patter of the droplets atop the bin.
The new absence of the wobbly brick.
That same school boy. Many times before.
Fish marketeers with treasures...
Not quite a Yogi float, but tolerate. Wait?
None for green.
Poles.. seats.
hear headphone cord.. Bright against the black drop
me off any time between here and now.
Calmly she sits, eyes closed. Hands crossed. Hair in place. She exudes calmness.
A porcelain doll... neural connection to Baby Blue.
And those blue eyes...
Blink.
Pink. Sheet on clothing line.. like a first bubble blown after several chews..
A first whistle lifting me from the extra gravity upon my mass.
I ride on and I hum that tune.
Last
Fri
day
__________
No Rain, but suspect-
Proof in puddles and reflection of trickery.
Blind Melons for breakfast and my pocket (left) alone. Cheese and tomatoes take me.The last formality of a Friday,
in that space.
Down the stairs of slip, six. A bid of hopes of good and rush the usual way. The previously known to be- usual day.
Further disillusioned.. distracted.. cavity of resilience.
I finally remembered that word.
Resilience.
It sinks and stinks.
Familiar faces at the place so many times I stood a wait.
The usual woman.
Jet black hair, faux fur hat-shopping bags.
Long face-kind heart.
Like Tia Francesca. The bigger of the three.
I've noticed-her partial run across street...
Two-stride high. Knees..
Mother and son again-on the bone-she slept through a blockbuster. Hit. Me. In the face with
small beauties.
The patter of the droplets atop the bin.
The new absence of the wobbly brick.
That same school boy. Many times before.
Fish marketeers with treasures...
Not quite a Yogi float, but tolerate. Wait?
None for green.
Poles.. seats.
hear headphone cord.. Bright against the black drop
me off any time between here and now.
Calmly she sits, eyes closed. Hands crossed. Hair in place. She exudes calmness.
A porcelain doll... neural connection to Baby Blue.
And those blue eyes...
Blink.
Pink. Sheet on clothing line.. like a first bubble blown after several chews..
A first whistle lifting me from the extra gravity upon my mass.
I ride on and I hum that tune.
Thursday 4 February 2010
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Aubade
The wait. Again. Excruciating. Repeat of delayed door. Slam.
Four and twelve plus twenty behind..
Abscess growing at the fusion. Con.
and a remedy of the scratch of chickens. To calm my own way.
There is a scrap of envelope, the window of my wink. Linked. To the chipped white, like eggshells.
Soft wooden barn. Yarn. String on seat. The blur of motion. Commotion.
White the non color color. Befuddled.
A wrap around porch and children with bear feet. Pause.
Fresh lemonade and the earth of the forest. Claws by night and a creek of a chair to rock. and roll. Over.
New setting- regroup. Refocus. Readers of quality. Tin snake scales. Peer over shoulder..
"Warning of Web Addict Danger" and a knife in neck. Spared.
With the irony-confess?
PA wouldn't deny.
Duck-duck....loose.
A V shaped escape.Widow's peek planned. For weeks and ways of days-
Fascinating feathers within the state of fridge. Spans and spoons of wings and sherbet. Sliced sky and a side of squawk. Widened eyes and a similar neck stretch....The dive into the atmosphere. No eyelids. Win. No skin. Same air. Same mission.
Possible.
Miles in between
it all
to get there.
Four and twelve plus twenty behind..
Abscess growing at the fusion. Con.
and a remedy of the scratch of chickens. To calm my own way.
There is a scrap of envelope, the window of my wink. Linked. To the chipped white, like eggshells.
Soft wooden barn. Yarn. String on seat. The blur of motion. Commotion.
White the non color color. Befuddled.
A wrap around porch and children with bear feet. Pause.
Fresh lemonade and the earth of the forest. Claws by night and a creek of a chair to rock. and roll. Over.
New setting- regroup. Refocus. Readers of quality. Tin snake scales. Peer over shoulder..
"Warning of Web Addict Danger" and a knife in neck. Spared.
With the irony-confess?
PA wouldn't deny.
Duck-duck....loose.
A V shaped escape.Widow's peek planned. For weeks and ways of days-
Fascinating feathers within the state of fridge. Spans and spoons of wings and sherbet. Sliced sky and a side of squawk. Widened eyes and a similar neck stretch....The dive into the atmosphere. No eyelids. Win. No skin. Same air. Same mission.
Possible.
Miles in between
it all
to get there.
Tuesday 2 February 2010
Pocket LinT skY
Dashing with Donovan-
Gunna have forever to fly.Horns and a woman of the angels prelude.
Electrical banana.
Like a neon sign after glow. Dust. Moths. Mites layered thickly
on tubes-
Florescence and fabrications of friendliness.
Glance up. He digs for gold and stretches as he owns the land. Closely he smells of a young brother, out for summer fun-
Metal and mesh. Skin.
Trebor.
Thick or thin-
Translucence.
Alert. Rotten eggs aboard.
Opaque.
It's a day that seems unlike so.
Darkly jig-sawed
like a stumble home-a stumble upon-
recollection-
A childhood rise to amusement. Parked. Here. It is not.
Roll and coast.
Closed eyes of seas and salt. Sway.
Foam.
Grit.
Need to floss.
Lost.
Ripples more than so.
Pocket lint skies.
Surprise.
A bird flaps and flaps between
these amputee trees..
Seemingly a race-for the worm or woe.
Parallel universe, wings we used to have
with strings
I ask
Why finish first?
Let's cut them.
Gunna have forever to fly.Horns and a woman of the angels prelude.
Electrical banana.
Like a neon sign after glow. Dust. Moths. Mites layered thickly
on tubes-
Florescence and fabrications of friendliness.
Glance up. He digs for gold and stretches as he owns the land. Closely he smells of a young brother, out for summer fun-
Metal and mesh. Skin.
Trebor.
Thick or thin-
Translucence.
Alert. Rotten eggs aboard.
Opaque.
It's a day that seems unlike so.
Darkly jig-sawed
like a stumble home-a stumble upon-
recollection-
A childhood rise to amusement. Parked. Here. It is not.
Roll and coast.
Closed eyes of seas and salt. Sway.
Foam.
Grit.
Need to floss.
Lost.
Ripples more than so.
Pocket lint skies.
Surprise.
A bird flaps and flaps between
these amputee trees..
Seemingly a race-for the worm or woe.
Parallel universe, wings we used to have
with strings
I ask
Why finish first?
Let's cut them.
Monday 1 February 2010
Monday ONe
Feb ONE. Won. Onto. One another's steps.
Patters, paving ways.
Waste. Waist of chocolate browns.. the horizon shines.
glows.
mesmerizes iris and pupil.
Like fire and feist, a penchant in my pocket. Padded.
Morning madam.Purple and patched, I am familiar.
I see her shine-she hails the red. Sprints past.
I tip toe in seizures of spinal tap bindings. Dripping
d
o
w
n
from that vile.
Vile wads.
Loogies.L EEW gies. pale yellow like this paper. Like the moon yesterday-
Moist mucus dotted along. along. Loong. Eyes down in disgust of lungs and specs.
Bean shaped,
I snipe them.
Avoid.
Fury inside, shoe bottoms agree.
A pigeon thinks he (she?) is a chicken. Proudly doing the neck jive. Minus cluck.
We are both alive. A live wire, Spitfire.
Doubles for deals.
Not a big deal.
Sharing a path.
Readers sit. Animals they resemble. Reassemble.
Left, koala.
Across, dolphin..
Distracted.. shadows and sun zig zagging in triangles.
Caramel county, country, beauty in bricks and bridge.
Sprayed with solar. Paint me
whatever color you like.
Just paint me a smile.
Etch me a verse.
Patters, paving ways.
Waste. Waist of chocolate browns.. the horizon shines.
glows.
mesmerizes iris and pupil.
Like fire and feist, a penchant in my pocket. Padded.
Morning madam.Purple and patched, I am familiar.
I see her shine-she hails the red. Sprints past.
I tip toe in seizures of spinal tap bindings. Dripping
d
o
w
n
from that vile.
Vile wads.
Loogies.L EEW gies. pale yellow like this paper. Like the moon yesterday-
Moist mucus dotted along. along. Loong. Eyes down in disgust of lungs and specs.
Bean shaped,
I snipe them.
Avoid.
Fury inside, shoe bottoms agree.
A pigeon thinks he (she?) is a chicken. Proudly doing the neck jive. Minus cluck.
We are both alive. A live wire, Spitfire.
Doubles for deals.
Not a big deal.
Sharing a path.
Readers sit. Animals they resemble. Reassemble.
Left, koala.
Across, dolphin..
Distracted.. shadows and sun zig zagging in triangles.
Caramel county, country, beauty in bricks and bridge.
Sprayed with solar. Paint me
whatever color you like.
Just paint me a smile.
Etch me a verse.
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