Thursday, 26 December 2013


blink and/or breathe
Complement with refreshing
bin-boxes  of stale e-mail
Because that is how we now, measure time
With narrowed views and broadened waistlines

She will bury brown coins with crowns
And wish corona crowns be coins
They gave her a few Liberty
And some short lived sympathy.
Her eyes, too inflated for morning light
To ever wake up. Try as she might.
Too much make up, they sighed at the funeral
She lay dressed in a costume from some carnival
Wanting to die like an artist from brooklyn
Who could paint marvelous portraits of brick kiln
Lost in some warehouse in a bygone lane.
Where she claimed the world was too simple.
"Find another", said World, ever so humble.
And so from her sleep, she leaped
From the first, missing the second
And landing on the third, instead.
Repeat. In reverse order.
As the Planner patiently placed
circles in squares.

This is not on you,
Blame the System, that is who,
Said the erudite-looking Planner
"Oh, I'm the Executioner"
She explained.

I continue to be puzzled by what the prefix post- truly means. It remains one of those tools that can make any mediocre word sound insufferably abstruse. Oh well, I know What I know! This is one of my favourite songs from Paul Simon's Graceland Album. I don't think I can love that song enough. And I don't think I can love 2013 enough either. Thank you, amazing year.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

The Bazaar

They sell shampoo bars
longer than relationships
You buy bargained promises
heavier than guilt
They sell knowledge
shallower than convexity
You buy enlightenment
darker than sunglasses
They sell conversations
warmer than hunger
You buy solitude
deeper than mines
They sell thoughts
emptier than brains
You buy airtickets
greener than inexperience

You sell mattresses
smaller than their dreams
They buy trends
hotter than red
You sell health
paler than porcelain
They buy bottled water
colder than your neighbours
You sell ideas
sharper than their tongues
They buy flattery
larger than your appetite
You sell expectations
taller than pint glasses (or shards)
They buy debts
deeper than sleep

What is the point, you ask
they say,
it is not a point
it is a black hole.

'Inspired' by e e cummings'  'may i feel said he', sort of. Listen to this.