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heartbeat

A collection of poems. Open to anyone who might be curious

I used to be a duckling

31/5/2009

 
a summer fighter

to grow to be a swan


 

now the golden goose has died

killed!

and I don't care


 

the white feathers

I might have earned

are blackened by the miles


 

two comrades remain...

we ache at times

our hearts plastic bags caught on nerves of barbed wire

 

now,

I feel I didn't lose

31052009/LHR/T3: the early One, Sunday

31/5/2009

 
She rises again.
So do the machines

upright like crosses in prayer

again and again

delivering deliverance

failing

and trying

one

then another.


 

She sleeps

but not really

checking

the time ensuring

the dreams

of the service are met.


 

She smells (of)

the fuel of such visions

the noise

disregards

the beads in a rosary of cloud.


 

Only this fire

combines

the heat and the warmth

she knows

there is nowhere

like here

it can burn.


 

"Do you wish to choose your seat, sir?"

"Do you really wish to fly?"

if you knew the answers

you'd be free of this sky

if only

 


you hadn't packed these bags yourself

If only a friend had given you something to carry

You could leave your soul unattended, unchecked for an instant


 

and land.

Last night a DJ saved my life

26/5/2009

 
I think as I envisage and visualise
when I imagine and project
I forecast and provide for
what I can never see or smell and certainly not touch.
 
Then I decide
to set aside
all this.
 
I listen, and I hear!
 
I feel true.

It hurts in the morning

21/5/2009

 
After being a spy for so long, and after the darkness of absolute faith, coming down is painful, as for one kicking a habit.
 
He penetrated deep and believed enough for others to believe that he was what he was pretending to be.
 
And for a second,
he was almost lost.
 
If he stays alive, he will be free, the knowledge to free others a secret whisper inside, a meaning for all.
 
 
Cyberpunk flower was there. She knows. When she smiles, I'm home.

Blade

20/5/2009

 
I skirt the furrows time sculpted
the cantilevers of sinews exposed
around ears that heard my voice so long ago.

The lips now dry
still smile.
Cells on show and veins

Carefully I gaze as features are out once again

He doesn't wear a mask
Nothing missing
nothing wrong.

Just a shave every gentleman deserves.

The world is getting smaller! (Or is our mind?)

18/5/2009

 
How many funerals and birthdays have you missed because you were in the wrong place?
How much time do you spend in the place where you feel you belong?
Are you able to feel at home anywhere any more?
Can you choose where you are going to be?
Do people know where to find you?
Do people recognise you in any place?
How often do you see your loved ones?
Can you answer the question 'where are you from'?
Are all conversations just an introduction?

It is so small it fits in my pocket: now I'm too big, exposed and cold.

I can no longer walk along my path - for I can see where it ends without effort.
I need not meet people - I am connected.
I don't have to to detect their moods - they will signal to me how they feel.

The world at the push of a button.

I can relax, then!

There
really
is
nothing
else
to
do.

Summer

13/5/2009

 
Primordial Apple, temptress in simplicity.
Her Secrets,
Fun.
 
The pages of a book in the sand, curling, wrinkles, a smile in the sun.
 

Mediterranean again

6/5/2009

 
She sits like a flower waiting to blossom
Anisette, Arak
Pouring into me
like a Lover
 
As I find home.

Creatine prayer

1/5/2009

 
Please oh please make his feet as sturdy as a track

 

make his stomach a harbour whose nearby beaches show ridges of sand caressing the water

 

make his back a bridge between tension and release

 

his buttocks dunes of rock where to weather the storm

 

change his arms into hammers to serve and protect

 

may his chest become a casket housing the soul.

 

 

But please, please, make his shoulders grow wide,

unfold and span the sky,

wings looking upwards

she can climb on and fly


 

Away, protected.

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