Month: March 2019

Picture Yourself

World building, a mind construction
Using heavy machinery
(Within, even without. Hmm…hmm…)
Unwhorling imagination’s fronds
As good as using magic wands

Twirling spiders making ablutions
Coloured silks camouflage greenery
Giant teddy bears fighting Godzilla
While jackrabbits drink tea in villas

(And then bet on the winner. Psst…Psst…)

Eagles gazing up at conflagrations
Selling those indulgences plenary
And softly chirps the bulbul near river Dawn
Transition to day,  happy smiles from frowns

Pyramids and Stories

No other Pharaoh has such a tomb
King Khufu rests in the Great Pyramid
Labour drains rich Egypt… They can afford it
And then Writing kicks within Egypt’s great womb

Khufu’s son lives on in written word
Though his pyramid is much smaller
Hardjedef, lives on in legend with beard
His pyramid may be small but his voice is louder

‘Is there anyone here like Hardjedef? Is there another like Imhotep? They are gone, their names might be forgotten but writings cause them to be remembered’

The Reverse Man

The reverse man drives backwards
What’s left is right and right is left
In the reverse man’s mirror world
He does everything upside down
He’s very happy when he frowns
Sheds tears of joy, beams smiles of shame

Sleeps at dawn, and wakes up at noon
He even eats a hamburger with a spoon
Steak for breakfast, toast for dinner

After losing he walks like a winner

He studies the syllabus after the test
And just lets destiny deal with the rest
Some call him a screw up, many call him worse
He doesn’t care because everything’s in reverse

About

“Come one come all
And follow the Little Twin
As he journeys
From those mounts of conjecture
To deep within
Those tantalizing walkways
Dialect roads
Questioning all the railings
With deep blue odes”

“No, No and no”

“You will not get what you’re seeking
My words are sometimes quite trying
Give it a chance if you like
But I’ll never step before a mic
No refined words here
No sticking to rhythm, meter and rhyme
I just write whatever comes to mind
My place of release
Without schedule or refinement”

On Living

Everyman tries
To leave behind a work of substance
Before they die
I’m no nihilist in this cosmic dance
But then sometimes
I think of things
Like:
Our ambitions don’t really matter
In that Grand Scheme
And pitter patter go the cold raindrops
Flow:
A reactive way of living without thinking
Just like a tree grows

Just as words come

To this screen…

I just don’t know

Any more

Companions of the Sun

Inanna, Izanami, Isis
Of the dawn and dusk
Morning and evening stars, that she is
Anthropomorphic

The names differ but story is the same
A journey to the Death, nobody’s blame
The sun rises and the sun sets
The sun lives and the sun does die
Daily cycle of mankind’s plight
The Light and Darkness move in step
Queen of the night Ereshkigal
Queen of the day Inanna
One coin with two heads
They are… They are…
Escorts of Sol Invictus
So written in ancient texts

That is… That is

(Dedicated to Brother White)

The Monk

The mendicant bows to new patron
They pay him with food
He repays them with conversation
Face shows gratitude

Penniless and wearing old robes
Threadbare and prey to the monsoon

The monk hobbles on towards his fate
Shows no concern over empty plate
The Universe will provide…  or not
His mind is detached from earthly plot

Life or death wealth or ruin
All the same to this retired murim

The Hunt

The wild hunt is after me

Their twisted caricatures
Would have made me faint in fear
If I hadn’t grown used to their terror

The wild hunt is after me
Come Savior come and help me
My heart can’t cope much longer
Their breath filled with such murder
My body is weak, and spirit weaker

The wild hunt is after me

Fake my death and lay false trail
I’ve done all I can and weathered the pain
Death or Life? Guess I’ll leave that to Fate