Nostalgia II

It doesn’t take old songs
It doesn’t take old voices
It doesn’t take an ancient pen
To hold you back in
Where you started and started again

The winds will roll out their tongues
And move swiftly
To lick nostalgia upon a river of time
Through your skin
Your Ears
Your Eyes
Your Nose
Your Tongue
Wherever they deem a suit to smart you in the heart

I reckon that be a rescue
From the rolling of your conveyor belt days
Or perhaps just a pain loving moment?
That the winds are blamed
It’s possibly only a simple choice of thought
Where you decide to either play in harmony with yourself
Or gangster bang your sweet present
And poison the minutes you’re in
With a myth
- A ghost of yourself

But all in time
Before you think you got it
That you’ve been guided back with candy shots
Through the dangles of dreamy reenactment
Forcing your eyes spinning white
Watching the crackling frames
Of your backward spool
Swallowing spit
In shiverness
Down the gullet of delicious memories
Your old fingers gouge the pouting sockets of recollection
Trying in hardness to live within the fingers of your fist
Elastic time will snap you back
And there you go
Swinging through the leaves of a yellow past
Never knowing what really hit you
When all it was that did
Were the sounds of the little soft notes
You hear in peeling layers of nostalgia
Within the solace of a quiet moment

Bruise berry

Bruise berry eyes
Dark brown ignorance
Craving sunlight revelation
Caving in to fool emptiness

A complete fabric
Wizarded
Plant of apathetic tears
Fallen wet of colour
Down a feathered face
Never bothered, ever simple
Dimpled with moulded smiles and frowns

If there be smoldering days
- breathless ones that collapse with a bang
Fathering running heartbeats
And widening shock-eyes
That’s when the fall is felt
Upon the very proud skin
Losing touch
Collecting love
And catching careless beads of rays

With eyes closed and looking within
The fodder fed man shakes
Along the beat of the heat
Gaining speed, gaining greed
And when the bruise berries open
The apathetic tears begin again

A memory would not be one

A memory would not be one
If it’s not even a memory done

Choking In Chinese

Scarlet bearing cheeks
In a truth moment
Starkly bared
Breathing in waters of embarrassment
And cold curled lips
Twisting like a cynic’s mind
A moment hardly undone
While clock hands nodded
And clock heads smiled
To my groping
As my English tongue killed
The actual words it was born to speak
The bush of courtesy procreated
Between the stuttering and the confused
Staccato winds unwound
Leaving droplets of Chinese
In their faces
Where their pretend yeses
Pretend to be
And their pretend eyes telling me
“You’re freaking Chinese!”

The Smiling Us

As if a mirror is not enough
Seeing crotches and bareness all
Sweeping lengthy fingers of nails
Across
The length of droppingness you’re worried about
But no not nothing can be anything done
And in dressed up skin
Or an undressed pre-party chest
A-heaving
Excited wet teeth
Tappy
A chattering smile
Cheesing at a piece of you
And at once it’s gone in a minion minute
To leave a gentle mantle
Pretty enough to remain
Smile prints in your head

But oh!
What gluttons of moments we are
Refusing the passings of clock running
Snaring the non-stopping tick-tockings
Click-hogging on DCs
On silver knobbles with trigger happy fiddlydees
Stuck in moments too long, too round
Too wasted living a shot, a second longer
And all the lonely, lovely ones
Sadly try
Rubbing on stinging masks
Painted on with happy black colours
And get it stolen away by a godly flash
And the moment’s washed and faded
Merely cast in bits
To be swept and kept within lucidity of the past
For man to see
What surface freedom
What redness blown on faces shown
Sprawled naked across the world
To only give one man gold
And smiling us run amok cyberwards
To feed the deed of plasticity
Into bright liquid windows
Bright enough to grow five tonne heads

Well, Is that frozen bliss?

I am a pote

For I am a pote
With words I coat
A slaking moat
I am a pote

For I am a pote
I hoard for heights
To seek for might
I am a pote

I am a pote
At times I choke
On words unspoke
For I am a pote

I am a pote
I’m sad and broke
But very much stoked
For I am a pote

Through the oceaned sky I grope
With perverse blind eyes
Finding a fix to ruin the stagnancy
Of the rotting black wounds of my idleness
And through massive liquid windows
(At times of a darkening green
At times of reaching my glassy eyes
At times when I stop
And start again)
The starries,
They bare all ten fingers of their souls
Waving it a thousand and more times
To pull me in their shrouded thoughts
And I get unsobered with their liquored words
I get moved
And hope for strokes
To stroke hopes
And I am a pote

Within the lids of my sleeplessness

Within the lids of my sleeplessness
I find your vivid self dressed in dreams
Loving life with so much might
Loving me with heartaches and grit
I made a vow, now, to help myself
Pass red lights and dropping currents
To feed back in showers what I have got
And I pull under frowns and groans
On stubborn mountains
On roped up seas
But in spite of that seeming hopelessness
I’ve got my share to give
Just a matter of a sit down time
But it will be there, darling
To reach you in stretched out arms
To wrap you within a longing me
I will be there and I promise you
But not during when you think
Or not during when I might
But it will be when
During a time you will smile
And find that Love has always been holding your hand
And I will be there

There It Goes

I never knew the grind of non-poetry
Of never freedom sounds
Of safe illicit pounds of words
Shredding light away from its inner glow
Now I know

Someone’s given me corns of scorn
Through the wind from his eyes
And slapping pink pies with thorns
Killing the rain I slurp up from
Soon it’s gone

Just when I thought for comfort from blood
I sought a little merry
But not so terry, the words I heard
They ravaged my eager smile
Wait awhile

And with grass green eyes I look to the Pantheon
How tastefully savage
Their nude words age with beauty
While I bathe in their mirthful prose
There it goes

Before the age of old and logicness

Before the age of old and logicness
Or logicity. Or logic sanity.
Before it catches on
Upon my diswired brain
Before it wires shut completely
To offer wise betrayals
The wisdom of the kingdom
That would prevent the switching on
The halo-light inspiration
Mauling at every hair on my head
At everywhere I walk
Before it stops sending shiver shots
Of beauty songs in cursive
And I get fiery scared
For the day I stop illogically
And begin myself in linear lines
In opened book meanings
Then the shivers would be
Of a different species and breed
They would breed fear and fright
Of onlookers perhaps and judges too

And Everyday

And everyday, the chatter of the sun
Sprawls across
As it speels towards the morn

And everyday matters to me
Because I look forward
On my face a smile adorns

And everyday seems brighter
Than the day before
The light shines forth from you

And everyday is a better day
Because you exist
And I am grateful for you

An ode to life

I met with magnificence today
Something I’ve not known for all my life
Its stateliness rings
And yet humility stretches throughout
A voice unwavering and strong
And power I felt like bell tolls
With an orchestra of strength that blasts out
A tide of might and inspiration
Its ruling grounds grand to the hilt
Always poised to take on the world
Towering over day and sweeping out night
Yet little enough to know what’s right
The song unsung that explodes in my head
Melodious hauntings in strings of splendour
Sparkling majesty that shines in honest brilliance
With its robe shrouding everything
In sudden crashes and deliberate strides
Bowing down to only the creator
A king of life and gold and silver
Munching punches and blowing gales
Commanding masses to breathe and be hale
With chills of war and a famine of peace
It leads the choirs of kingdoms to sing
And soar through the lands on spread out wings
With the help of angels in splendid white
From heaven they charge with fists for peace
And bolts of anger in their hands
And tears to quench the hungry
It never was proud
But confident with a distinguished face
King of treasures that cannot be seen
Of greatness that rides the high skies
And trumpet shouts of joy when life itself can smile
With arms raised to the roar of drums
Savouring the beauty of stars
As they burst and burn into blossoms of regal colours
Impressively built to save the world from sullenness
And there’s no chance of stopping any time yet
Because it has all and everything to write about
More than just feelings and senses and marching soldiers
More than God and truth and love and lies
And it is fearless and fearful
Gallant and selfish
It opens castle doors and gates to hearts of men
And how this massive infestation of life
Could ravel into one
Is a secret that everyone knows
It's all about disappointments and joyousness
And creation and destruction
More than what a song is able
More than what is you and me

A poem in 5 minutes

So now I begin to write
Of what
Of how
Of anything at all
That I’ve been given this mere time
A span to spew
As much I can
As much I might
With all my might
In this mere 5 minutes
With simplicity I strap upon my back
To make out words
In the hope of finding that click
With meaning
With nirvana
With profound insanity
Which, in the end have not any
And now to rush in such
I end at the finish line
Prematurely late

Untitled

Hurry now
The time is up
It’s never too late
But it’s now or never
Just cross your fingers
And breathe your wish
Just say those things
And it’s been wished upon
Hurry now
It’s almost time
The days are shutting
Their numbers near
Lest your fears be sparked
In wide-eyed moments
Smooth it down
And let it swim

Built From 10

Built from 10
Gone a long way
Chemistry tunes with bursts of gold
Sleeping and it's been untouched forever
Riding on waves of excited nostalgy
Used to be great

The Apple – A Poem

With all its might and flurry flushes
Furied madness in its cheeks
Pumped to its full ripeness
In tight muscular delight
And squeaky smoothness riding on plump

A scream of hairlessness in a red lump
On my palm
An ego’s egg
Or a bald bosom (Of course it’s bald)
It feels nice… the apple
In its own waxy ozone
Smartly neatened out
Unlike chalkboard smooth
But smooth like the dragged out note of a harmonica tune
And a nipple of twig
Perfectly erect and dry

An evil thwack like sexy heels
On chunks of legs
Against wet concrete on a quiet sleepy night
Bounces of empty
And clucks on your fingertips
Straining out, almost to burst
A muffled punch on frozen meat
Bland but bright and fat
That’s the apple ring
A slap, a flap
A muted snap
But that’s not all
The chorus gets louder
Your teethy whites come down
And the clash of dampened cymbals
And the scratching of a breaking bough so crisp
It cleans your attention into oblivion

In rainbows and fires of good and bad
Where sleep lost angels dwell and gather
Shrouding sweetness onto perfection
And reaching deep to its seeds
From which all genesis of appleness grow
An armour, a malic condom
Budding on pink buds on your tongue
Sometimes squinty-eyed
Sometimes wide-eyed salivation
Bountiful and rich
A barrel of scurvy fighters
And a deluge of lust pouring in
A practise pad of sorts
To use your tongue on the most saccharine flesh
Bound by purity
Bound by the tempest
A bait so sweet it opened our eyes
The moment of shame when wisdom came
Listening to the slither
Of a hiding laughter
And it’s sunshine brightness
A wafer of heart thumping poetry
That stands in the shape of a zesty state

Grand with spits of mirth worth smiles
Crazy days that keep you alive
With leaps in heightened excitement
Meadows of freshness under your skin
Almost the substance of daintiness in sleep
A sleepy-eyed lover, bowing over
To bury his nose in the nape of his stranger’s neck
The fragrance, a secret blowing fast
Ploughing in with careful fingers scraping
To grasp a deep breath of its yellow musk
To forget the bitter taste of yesterday
For a moment
And it loses its smell
Deep within, saved
Leaving only the beginning of a rotting start
Racing itself to a brown death
And while you smile
To the blooming smell of apple loins
Mindful with squandering thoughts
Of earthly simplicity
The ethereal winds gather height
With languor strapped to their skirted backs
Spread upon the lands
Seeding smells, seeding smiles
Under the same old sun
Nodding its ancient head
Everything in the skin of the earth
Will then beam in its greatness
And lay down till the next sunrise

The OCTOBER Songs

OCTOBER

When candles were blown for the 21st time
And the world was filled with beerful hiccups,
A storm, abating, gently dying,
Was when the world began its colours crawling in
And the hum of music was complete with visions.
The realization of all things perfect
Stood with angelic likeness
With a voice of naked beauty in song.
All time was with us
And a thread to sew.
Only a fool would not know which way
When a glow was blooming right under his nose.

NOVEMBER

Smiles pressed into our faces from the promises made,
As we listened to Johnny over and again.
Knowing this, the first on the list
Of living it up:
“No way November we’ll say our goodbyes.”
It seemed the path, he’s paved for us
Of biblical rules,
Of poetic bliss.
Where none was trivial,
Our breathless sighs were a constant peak to our days.
This was the time
Virgin pleasures wrought.
This was the time
The first of all things were born.

DECEMBER

And rain it was that gave its light
When moments came in flashes and might.
It offered a treasure, first of many;
A string of chords and words aplenty.
It helped when Christmas soul returned,
Touched my heart, and I pulled a tune.
How I made her heart surrender,
How it happened I’ll always wonder.
For it was just mere affection,
I didn’t do much but to love her true

JANUARY

I remember the part
With shouts and bangs
And then the music began again
In the sea of smoke and resolute drunks
Popping Chinese through a microphone
And a series of claps in a drunken trance
While our bonds tightened
And our own resolutions made
With cheers in our hearts
And a new year began with a kiss
So sweet, I’d played it in my mind
For the rest of the day till the next new year

FEBRUARY

Our lives, entwined
From the very first time with music
So my valentine appeared
With a bag of love filled with loads of it
As if she truly read my mind
And knew the wishes of my heart
For she never fails to put
A ready smile on my face
And she never fails to drip
A few more drops of love on me

MARCH

And here’s a toast to Saint Paddy’s day
The end of the list for Johnny, that is
But not for us, no siree
Coz we know we’ll still be safe
From April Fool’s till a new Christmas
And probably will still be on the “so on”
But let’s just see for now
If April’s really fooling us
But I guess it really was the other way around
It was always the plan
Right from the start

APRIL

My heart warmed up and pumped
When my eyes fell upon the efforts
Of the hands of my angel
The world was ours,
The time was ours
For now we’re at the halfway mark
And everything sour and everything bitter
We know could be worked out better
So cheers to this sixth month
And to many more

MAY

Now, as the days, like lullabies,
Peel off in layers of tunes
To find their way back from being lost
Within the feathers of songs
And grab a moment in time
For a moment to ponder
Might be slightly a task to do
So here, might I say
While I grow more insane
With a keenness for you
Is one of the moments
I shed no light
For it is when, these times
I fill them up with love
And only love for you

JUNE

And all of what went through my mind
In all of what went through my mind
No fingers or toes of mine
Could relish the delight
Of pointing to an easy direction
Knowing exactly where & what kind
Of memories in a lyrical whirlwind
Would surface
Like teabags soaked with thoughts
Singing in my head
I only think of you
I wouldn’t give a second song
To another one
Because there wouldn’t be another like you

JULY

With sweat and tears and blood and sighs
I blew and stretched and whipped a storm
I wrote my girl a birthday song
I made a great day for everyone
To everyone, I sang that song
And everyone smiled and clapped along
I knew by then, it wasn’t wrong
The girl I loved sat right in front
For it was to that girl I wrote that song
One which told her she’s the only one

AUGUST

My lion pride was stroked when my eyes unveiled
To the most wonderful sight on earth
With dappled warm and fuzzy lights
And the smell of rubber and burnt wax
’Twas the greatest birthday yet
And I’d wished it not to stop
And time did freeze upon the flare of colours bright
And did a little longer when I fell a little stronger
The candles shot into the blackness of my birthday sky
Into explosions of flowers raining down
Stealing darkness away for mere seconds at a time
The wish I had materialised
My baby sat before me and sighed her wish against my ear,
A greeting so special, I wish it happens again

SEPTEMBER

Where night was bright from little wax flickers
And holding wooden chopsticks and paper bulbs, walking
Unaware and ignorant
Of the gigantic night before us
With the moon in its full splendour
Smiling brilliance into the world
There, in our gait, we smiled back to each other
In the midst of many others smiling
We loved and laughed and spoke to the waters
And planned our next stage in the next year before us

OCTOBER

And throwing back my thoughts to the start
How fleeting it felt and how long it was
I’ve written down a year’s worth
Of laughter and tears and everything more
And though it’s the end; a cycle of sorts
It’s really not the end; there’ll be more to come
It’s truly a journey, a mere beginning
I can’t wait to see what the end looks like
An end with you
Where love abounds

In Peaks of Red

And I sigh with a glee of height
In stupor stages
As my mind takes flight in peaks of red

Your peachy laughter and pink sighs
A great prozac
A great someone to fall in love with

And it comes with no tricky tick
No more effort whatsoever
Than just a simple flick

I have my drumming of fingers
A secret song
My coveted thoughts, a-thumping

A Valentine thus spawns whole
Lovely before me
As my mind takes off in peaks of red