it’s been roasting inside my flat,
so i took a stand-by in the roof top…
as i stand there to catch the night breeze
realized that something to me was missing…

it’s been a puzzle for couples of weeks
i see it’s newborn yet seems so fixed,
this can’t be love…it just need some space,
but i’m totally guilty of the sweetest case

she’s in my dreams whenever i go to sleep
maybe destiny is really making a powertrip,
but from this calling who could ever escape?
better grab some potato chips and my lemon drink..

.

lilac petals drop daintily

a swoosh of night air and fragrance
pushes the poplars to samba
swishing and swaying seductively
bouncing droplets of rain on
xylophonic roof tiles
beckoning me to join
this unnamed celebration

I escape my lazy chair ways on
loosey-goose legs
(usually stiff as boardroom banter)
and I feel

....TALL!

I met her once,
in a battered place
where Irish bombs blew
holes into an English city,
broken bodies writhing
as I looked down at the splinters
of a shattered friend
stuck deep into my shins.

We kids were all prompt to arrive at the door
for we knew we shouldn’t turn our backs on
Christmas roast at dinner time -
it can’t be left long after out of the oven
for the Aussie bush blowie is nasty
and even with windows and doors fly-wired
doubled over and nailed every inch
the buggers still get inside
and if they get to your dinner before you
well, the sight would make a saint cry
wriggly maggots dropped to feast
on what was going to be our festive meat.
Too much information do I hear you implore??

Open House Madness

Welcome!
Come, step into my dream
I’m sure you will find
Things are as not as they seem

Your host is in the kitchen
He has become the main course
The places that are dined on
Are his pleasures source

What’s going on over there
How many people
Can fit in one chair
Arms, legs assorted body parts
Hard to tell
Where one ends
And one should start

Baby kisses
Chills from neck to spine
Linger, linger
Please, take your time

You inspired from the start,
cradled me in the wealth of your knowledge.
Nursed this fledgling through it's poetic birth

A beautiful spirit that burns and sparks,
a vessel for all that is dark and exquisite,
and righteous.

Now you have been laid
and it is I who must support you.
Give you hope, enouragenent

I will ease your burden.
Erase your suffering,
allow you to be strong..

rationalizing
reminiscences of her
needing pretty pictures
to revive my burnt out life

Armorall'd surfaces
seasoned, but shiney
glow-in- the-dark fantasies
oozing whispers of love
so necessary
so needful

woe be me, for real,
if the surfaces were to be glimpsed
in their natural rough and dull state
and the darkness was unmarred
by smokey spotlighted images
and the oozing was a raging flood of regret
and disillusionment