The Shower Song

For those who seek
Of much they speak
Of near and far
And thoughts that mar
The ebbs and flows
But no-one knows
Which way is right
Or what to fight
Our natures deep
Our questions keep
A tangled knot
Of what is not
That’s held up high
But brings a sigh
To all the tears
We’ve shed these years
May peace begin
With peace within
Nothing to find
Except [accept]
_____ your
_________ mind.


I write a lot of poems in the shower, generally to some kind of rhythm or rhyme — I don’t really know why the shower muse comes by…

Old men read the lesson in the setting sun. Beat the cymbal and sing in this life, or wail away the hours fearing death. From the I-Ching

The Crystal City

Scaling peaks, I sometimes fall
     sliding sands slow the climb
Fumbling feet, legs a-quiver
     choking dust, left and right
Spirits, bodies, disappear
     into chasms rent through time.

Crawling forth now, hands and knees
     the summit fills my sight
Striking through the mists and trees
     gold, cerise, rose and lime!
Haul this carcass o’er the crest
     and into bright sunlight.

Standing on that mountain top
     heaving chest, clothed in grime
Abandoning past intent
     alarmed at this new plight
Rainbow mountains everywhere
     surrounding fields of thyme!

And far off in the distance, the crystal city’s spires
Glint and tease and beckon, a wind chime of desires.

For seven years I journeyed
     through vales of clementine
Trekking alps of breathing hell
     exhaustion by my side
Pray! this soul would live to reach
     that city so divine.

Our sun had reached it’s zenith
     so hope picked up a ride
Alas! laid out before me
     tho’ city’s heights doth shine
A river flows, so deep and pure
     to bar my path inside.

Amber-walled with gates of quartz
     no vision could refine
Beneath the streams, the jaws of
     alligators yawn wide
Oh! onyx kerbs, citrine streets
     these eyes brim full with brine.

Sparkling eyes like peridot, behind you see the fires
Smiles, it seems, with reptile minds, this gut to fear inspires

Battling through the centuries
     losing all the while
Bleeding hearts and artists know
      they aren’t the battling type
But oh! that city beckons
     It’s light just makes me 🙂

Could I find a way across?
     my theories are cold tripe
Eventually I’d learn ways
     to keep them quite docile
‘Gator guards are living too
     I won’t believe the hype

I take a stick, throw it far
     “These methods I revile!
I’m worn, I’m weak, can hardly speak
     Our history I wipe.”
She’s ending feuds despite her will
     “Let’s take a different style”

I can’t speak of everything compassion’s gift requires
Smiling back at alligators, brought my heart’s desires.

Talk to the hand

I often wonder why some people bother saying anything at all. Here’s hoping 2015 has less of these statements and more silence, smiles or good jokes…

I don’t know why I said that.
Thinking’s not in your genes.
It wasn’t me who ordered it.
I don’t know what you mean.

You should have told me sooner
That you might need some aid.
I thought it was a favour –
Friends don’t need to get paid.

How dare you speak to me like
that? Where is your respect?
I didn’t think you’d mind if I
Took credit for your project.

Don’t start again with all that fuss,
I’m over you today.
Go throw yourself under a bus,
You’re always in the way.

Go back to where you came from.
Who do you think you are?
You’ve eyes above your station
You’re being quite bizarre.

You can’t see what they’re thinking
Beneath all that dark skin –
No wonder we can’t trust them,
They’re not allowed to win.

I want to personally thank the lady who said that final bit to me, just last week. Very inspiring, although she said overtake rather than win. I suggested she try reading body language if she found it too difficult to look at black people’s faces. 🙂 She should be a comedian.

Washed out

Washed upon a desolate shore
A haven built beneath the groves
Where two in spirit dwelt no more
An echo through the hollow coves

Brushed aside through impotent mire
No pause to lay this grief to rest
With storms in fire, my love’s desire
Such guilt weighs heavy on my breast

Borne aloft by profligate sins
So deep within that darkened stew
I fight for breath while life begins
Again! Repeat and rinse anew

Faint wish that I could hold your head
And soothe life’s pains away instead.

When I forgot

English: Darn, I forgot my toothbrush again

When I forgot to cry
Compassion passed me by
When I forgot to love
Shame wrapped me in it’s glove

When I forgot to grieve
My past I couldn’t leave
When I forgot to share
The world became unfair

When I forgot to dance
Each day was like a trance
When I forgot to hope
I simply couldn’t cope

When I forgot to live
My heart I couldn’t give
When I forgot to be
Nothing was left of me

The master and the mage

My second Terza Rima…

A deal I wish to offer
     for I would seek a change
I thought to cross the river
     aboard that floating barge
Although I try to reach it,
     the shore stays out of range.

I’ve come to seek my fortune,
     “Sir! How much would you charge?”
If I would, but fly across
     I’m hanging from a ledge
Alone and unprotected,
     the distance is too large.

Thrice my resolve was hardened
     to dive over that edge
But when the time drew closer
     my body would not budge.
I’m not a flying mermaid,
     this river can’t be dredged!

My forlorn past encroaches
     each step on this long trudge.
“May I enquire, your fairest price?”
     So I can safely gauge
In good faith, my hope to leave
     this old forsaken drudge.

The peaceful path where two are one
     where life outshines the beige
To float on by, our souls entwined,
     the master and the mage.