Friday, July 18, 2008


Was it at night the waters parted and they came in
the night you convulsed and lay on the floor?
Was it drought that left you for dead, or something else
that ate from within

It is no wonder they used leaches
The need to solve problems
the need to talk about it
never do anything
before permission to act

Emergency - a place to calmly go ahead
with no regard for normality; enact the pieta
everything is to be forgiven as the clock strikes one
anything is possible in a storm

walk against the wind and it could tear your coat
walk around the wind and you may sail and ascend
they may take you
in the end

Friday, May 09, 2003

Jack knife

goes the gears
colliding thumbs in darkness
deadly units of gray

horrid bonfire
bad story after bad
leaves in the unhurried tree
mixed presoaked deadly roots

can never sense its
island drift into
wayward rock icicles
it missed

the flag refurling celebrations
the valid avail held
back by scarred minor
vacuums that scurry
along the creaking alley

the corner of a vortex
lined shiny and metal

“rees the vapo nort of the vospa”
raat on the dark fort in the estuary

ripped by wind

all swords swayed port
all vacant mort justification
spellbound august yet casual

a Mexican bandito relaxed into
gambling instincts borne of sweat
and riding in for wreckage
on the backs of fine horses

all the impossible heroics of cardboard
marketing campaigns eroding maximisation

pale yardstick of memoir fantastic
rise to bellowing and yeowing
the cautious maradeurs of wisterical flaws
a pause in the harsh morse
a lost half crown betted on a horse
or buried in the bourse
hurtling down
like an asteroid unfixed
like a banker transfixed
like the light that held its wrist

hurtling down
the biting metal of a sound
that your bones remember

when it hits
life blown to bits
by the jibes of the unfit
and the heaving of the jespers

the wheezing past of the jesters
the screaming of the weeks

and the laugh that lies
at the bottom of the sea

18:04 9 May 2003

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Limp Justice

Just before she came down with her dogs
to the village

Her crown fell from the roof of her landrover
and laughter was heard in the court

A congressional hearing was interrupted by storms
soothsaying by idiots mattered more

Predictions upturned handfuls of grain
as hordes of Hugh Grant lookalikes,
Neutered by angels,
were stopped before the tracks were laid

The chair
strikes the ground like a gavel

The chair
strikes the ground again

Tuesday, April 22, 2003


In the context of our reality, do we form attitudes due to the force of personality or the effect of our deeds? Or is personality formed due to the attitudes we carry, the contexts through which we compress communication, the circumstances we find ourselves in?

The economics of friction and need that exist between increasing numbers of others forces the issue in an expodential curse; the push and pull of economics results in decisions; decisions form direction and events that define and shape the personality. These sharpened angles and well worn curves in the outer self dictates to the inner self what it shall think. Yin and Yang symbolizes the exchange or currency of living.

As breath defines form, expression burrows out an existence within the confines of hope. Caught in the verse of passing moments, the slipstream of current; what others may or may not do; each one of us remains and is still. The universe passes us. We are the light in the projector, and the world is but a film. As each frame passes the aperture and lens, we remain locked in the capsule of our opinion to examine the grand detail.

We all watch the clouds pass overhead even when in motion. The movement of the cloud travels with us as the cloud does. The stars are more effective for navigation. Despite moving millions of miles an hour away from us and each other they are so far away that for many years we may see little change.

We define the reality we share, but a greater challenge is the definition of our own interior.

23/04/2003 12:55

Friday, April 18, 2003

A Stabbing

Cutting the final edges
from the form

Loose change dangles
dignity forlorn

Stake in heart bleeds
life away

the blade drains the
soul breath away

Angels pass overhead and branches shake
out lies

The blade sinks in
and his victim dies

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

her love

there was a funny way she held her mouth

and she said the very first thing that
struck her

the first thing to enter her head

thirsty soul hungry for love
but had to go

early departure
always a shame
what could been after
never again

falling from the sky like a leaf
better than staking out
the guilty

nonsense takes us
from life in which It made us

Every story has its final

Can't always see the sense
in what happens there

people cut off mid sentence
or fighting twisted up hair
laughter can't be contained
between the closeness of
her lips as she welcomes
a final drift from consciousness
a release from pain grief and despair

floating now above
free to express
her love
all the suggestions
left out in front
on the lawn
for all to see

7 April 2003

Friday, March 21, 2003

chaos matters

The wall fell down
the words fell down
the Walls fell down

the Word fell

Child picked up the pieces
stuck them together along
broken edges draws
narrow conclusions

his father's last words
fight to the death, son
honour your father
with the destruction
of our enemies
the ground is too full of our dead
our ground shall hold the blood
of the hordes of hell

Son, you may choose to live
in universities, become a doctor or a thief
but one thing is sound, and thats your belief
that anything against the Word
is evil

believe the world is but an illusion
to mask our delusion
like a game

you get a lot
if you die, carrying a sword
in the name of God


Thursday, March 20, 2003

explosions in bagdhad
tearing apart the life works of saddam
if he had left

the people could have done it themselves
with their own hands

america had to erase
every figment of
the imagaination

bagdhad born anew
with caves dug by

children fall down
the holes

Links: Nicholas Alexander war blog

Thursday, March 13, 2003

oppose death

Call out your soulful armies and cry the cry of battle
Dawn drawn long shadow cast upon ground
blood that ran like tears down mountains
into plains

the sake of power

Swords drawn
spill blood into cups

bodies cry
dance the fatal dance
laugh the fatal last

Evil has a name
death is the cause

retribution unmasked

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

spontaneous notes

nimble feet gesture
claws tightly enwrenched
into this or that

all those wars
it won't matter to the dead

lying there,

nor the torn wards
of the shame

the fallen take care in the village

gangs of preditors sweep their white
fangs over the heart that frail and stolen
creeps on its hands in the garden

all that weeps is for nothing
all that laughs is enough to sell the sorry story
to the blokes with the money

calling us fragile is not the storm
that makes crepe of the curtain
between the in and the out?

Sold to the winter of solids. Braile in the summer storm.

All hardly fit under land
surface and brain

hardly any morse

crying sins fake rain and small flutters under eyelids
all over again

5 March 2003

Monday, March 03, 2003

Commentary:::this site needs a face lift

bombs do not rise
to meet
the endless prayers of those who need

bombs do not climb
from hungry childrens hands
they do not fall in the lap of humble america

bombs do not rise
on the day of the reckoning
bombs will be counted alongside
rape and toture a ticket to certain hell

bombs are not clean
they do nothing except
threaten those that do not tow the line

bombs are not welcome
in any place

bombs be decommissioned
and turned into bad sculptures

Tuesday, February 25, 2003

Check out - submit your poems

Thursday, February 06, 2003

Verdue Saint Prisma
Kila Egein Wagom
Elis Qua Zorin
Weel Vartac Qualif
Lamba Juna Sama
Ta Lamso
Av Brasio

Tuesday, February 04, 2003

One of these days

One of these days
I am going to get a new one

a better one that works better than the last one
a simpler one that people understand
a stronger one that won't break

when its under stress

One of these days
I am going to buy an egg
and roll it down a slide
watch it land
and break

watch it make that sound
cracking eggs make
watch it whirl around

One of these days I am going to get

Wednesday, December 25, 2002

seasons past

winter dulls in the trees

as spring loosens its grip

ice drops from twigs

and the air changes to mist

calling out to me

fallen gestures held fast

by time still standing

in the garden

all that ache

lost in the spine

of the valid wounds

so deep they can't hear

Sunday, December 22, 2002

Wither the wind drifts
Wither the clouds pass
Wither the dreams exist
or a daft dreadful dance
whether not the breaks
in time justify
whether or not the real slide
off style subsides or cruel
hands file little vapours from
the blind and their god ridden minds

Tuesday, December 03, 2002


this hour is gentle warmth
unfolding trees
waving files of glass
green sheets unfold
with the light
each morning

written just now on the spot (for a school assignment)

Friday, November 29, 2002

He carved his name in the wood
as it burned
a mistake under the sky
burning threats smoke in the sky

the apple was taken from the head of the boy
and the soldier took the arrow

his eye was forsaken for the sly skins of the boy
who ran away

the old woman hid in the ground and spoke
of wounded children changing everything

but it was the local customs that defeated the
rain as it burns eyes taking vision

every colour and sound from the lands
the arbor of the lands
melted into ash

reason evaporated
and its steam vanished from the world

Thursday, October 31, 2002

Figure the last of them has taken its ferry
over the lands it does not own
and into the ocean it does not know

Nature at risk
Little safety in numbers
children standing in doorways
little men with guns
trained on the eye of the enemy

learn about emnity
from the day life starts
until its blood soaked finish
line exodus from reason

take the gun from the hand of the child
de-sex the soldiers before they spread
their disease across the widowed

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

On photographing a bee

beneath the point of comfort
between the needs of image and safety
the worry of the buzz
waiting with your finger
hovering over the button
its sweet nectar the image

Its sudden action, the threat

you capture pollen
laden on both legs
your knees creak as you stand
as you return to comfort and distance

image ready, held in one hand

Monday, September 23, 2002

Looking for a day

Beneath the trees
under the scars
over the moon
in the cars
under bees
before noon
after now
the day
on the wings
of a bird soaring
high on the wish
of a cloud hanging
there wanting
to be mistaken
for an idea
to be taken
before a crowd

- 11:21 24sept2002