||[21 Jan 2010|12:57pm]
I live in a country full of VOGONS!!
||[15 Apr 2009|12:16pm]
For the little Mynah who lived in my roof and saw only a balcony of a big world.
You who were eager to see a world wrought
with a yellow sun and bulging gray clouds.
Attracted by false heralds of moonlight
cawing below your nest, the de.si.re
must have managed to whistle its way up
into your nest and climbed into your chest.
Note by note and twig by twig - blue Mynie -
a de-feathered blue chickie whose only
vision of warmth is the darkness under
the pelting red roof. Your soon-to-be-brown
feathers barely pricking out of your skin
when the intrigue of the noises were too much for you.
Or was it a suicide - knowing you'll turn out
to be no more than another scavenger,
welcomed only as a distraction for
a non-existent spring time - when you jumped
off the air-con ventilator?
You looked like a watercolour painting
when I found you. Pale blue on pale grey tiles
against the pale grey sky against dried brown
sticks against fallen green leaves. But you were
starting to stink as the ants filed into
you, oozing out a yellow bile. O You
nature of creature, you have painted the
colours of the early spring sky with your death.
||[16 Feb 2009|05:22pm]
The still point, also known as the zero point
When we enter Shunia, we enter the realm of the union of polarities...into the center of being. It is through this space that we heal ourselves and others, that we know ourselves and others, and from which we can best serve the world.
|When waiting for your lover
||[01 Dec 2008|10:56am]
When I was on the train, wondering what
you would be wearing, how you would look as
you slowly stroll out from the gate. Thinking
how I'd recognise you - my anxiety
In every other waiting face. And if
we'd turn away (lost and found) as we hugged?
The mind does its funny turns but my heart
saw your bright face in the crowds of lost souls.
Perhaps you're still floating in particles
of air echoed by your deliberate
footsteps. I was shaking from your thundering
heart that had come home to me. While waiting.
When waiting for your lover, you create
a portal by tucking your delicate
soul into his arms, only to let it
fly with his dreams. And when he brings it back,
you are whole again.
|Dream Vortex Conundrum
||[12 Nov 2008|12:28pm]
Dawn is dusk, dusk is dawn. Before the sun
Shines, everything is cold. But in your dreams
those fields of gold shine on shine on like flames
Of so many stories told. We never
Woke up, never got away. We never
quite managed to point fingers though it’s quite
obvious we did. Chasing dreams we never
woke up from, the colours just shifted from
one angle to the next. Running never
Felt like running. Dying never feels
Like dying. The excitement we feel can
be pinned like a long white line across the
backyard. We finally come home, ready
to hang up everything. We never slept
through those wispy nights. When the dreams brought us
To faraway places - we went again
and again. We came to the place we went.
We swam in the pool that drowned us and peeled
off fires that burnt us. Floating and falling
into musical spheres, we unsound your
Words. We uttered nothing, painted nothing
that was not written in your eyes. Our eyes
through your soul. Unheard, unlived and hopeless
but still alive in those ivory mists,
blown across the sands, blown across the sands.
||[05 Jun 2008|02:37pm]
"Now, cities are sinful. There ain't no more to it. If you ever get a chance to move outa one, do it, 'cause when the children got to the cities they still sang the music of the church, but the words they was singin' left the church in the lurch. In the church, women are called 'Sister' and the music had no hues, but out side the church women became 'Baby' and the music became the Blues. Or, as the scholars would say: Spirituals are the music of earth and sod expressing the slaves' belief in God. Blues are the music of suffering and strife expressing the secular side of life."
"Now, don't ask me why they're called the blues, 'cause I don't know why. The only thing I do know is that Man on Earth is surrounded by sky, and the sky is blue, and from the blue sky the blue sea gets its hue. And when you stop to think about it some, even the blackest night ain't really black. It's dark blue! So, when you sing spirituals outside church, you gotta pay earthly dues so they become the blues, and when you play 'em on a horn a new music is born, a music that became very popular because of its infectious rhythm."
- Jon Hendricks