Poem # 38 Art is

Art is

ArtisfashionArtisjoyArtisthemusicofthesoulArtistheliefromwhichwelearnthetruthFirstyouseethehillsinthepaintingthenyouseethepaintinginthehillsWhentwopeopleviewthesameartworktheydontseethesameartworkArtisworthwhatyoupayforitArtdoesntmaketheworldgoroundbutitmakesthetripworthwhileAllartispoliticsMakingtimeforartismoreimportantthantimingthemakingofartLetnofreemanbedeniedtheviewingofartThisisadrawingArtshouldbepowerfulArtshouldbecompellingThereisalwaystimeforartAnythingyousayisartisartyoumustthendecideifitisgoodartornotAllartismathematicsAllartishistoryLifeiselsewhereandartfindsitAnartistshouldsupportsocietyratherthanexpectingsocietytosupporttheartistYoudontstopmakingartbecauseyougetoldyougetoldbecauseyoustopmakingartArtneverasksyoutomakeanappointmentArtisnothinglikethecatalogueDoesartimitatelifeordoeslifeimitateartorisitpossibleanymoretotellthedifferenceWithartahappyendingisguaranteedFriendscomeandgobutartisthereuntilitsusebydateArtisworthwhatyoupayforittherichnessofartcomesfromtheartists'inspirationArtwillalwaysbemybestfrienditknowstoomuchaboutmeMoneytalksbutartsingsIsthepurposearttobedecorativeorprovocativeDeepdownmyartisprettysuperficialHappinesswithartisaninsidejobArtworkalwayspusheswhattheobserverseesaspossible

Poem # 37 Snow Angel

Snow Angel

Little one
A manga panda
In the pristine snow.
A dream scene,
Snowflakes brush your
Face
Light as loves kisses
And melt on your
rosy cheeks.
A snowman
lays broken and
half buried
on the ground and
you turn your small
round face
up to the sky
and close your eyes.
You feel the snow
On your lashes
on your lips
as you revolve slowly
arms spread
like a cherub.
It is the taste of winter.
The taste of innocence.
The taste of happiness.

Poem # 36 Extraterrestrial Activity

Extraterrestrial Activity

Who am I to doubt
his veracity,
the electrician maintained
he had been captured by aliens
whilst returning from the
Rooty Hill RSL - Vegas of the west!
He was teleported up, still inside
his twin cab ute, and given the
mandatory anal probe.
Initially he decided to keep
the story quiet,
fearing ridicule,
eventually he told a
reality television producer
how the experience had
given him insight into
his past lives and
rejuvenated sex with
his wife who had also
been a pharoah.
He passed lie detector
tests and stood up well
under hypnosis.
Now he and his wife
do very well from a
wealth exchange at
income for knowledge
workshops and are
considered authorities
on the effects of
the full moon.

Poem # 35 Cairo

Cairo

Cairo at dawn
in crepuscular light.
Across the Nile,
the sky a cobolt blue,
from horizon to zenith.
Behind the low line of hills
to the east, a glow,
pale gold and oyster pink.
Ra the sun rises,
grey brick buildings
become red and yellow
and blue and green and orange.
Scarlet sands towards
Israel lands turn to
bleeding cuts.
The minerets and dome
of the mosque blaze bright,
and bronze stars wink
along the walls where
the rising light
touches the spires.
On our terrace
a few flies stir sluggishly.
One,two,and then three
birds chorus in
the persimmon tree,
their song drowned
by the traffic
that begins to
flow down the streets.

Poem # 34 Contents II

Contents

Thirteen Minds
Discuss
Punishment
People
Wrong body
Alone against odds
Summer
Identity
Experiments with poetry
Find out about
Two cheers
Sticks and stones
Names
First lines
confined
Fear
2280 A.D.
Transcendence
What's going on
Labels
An enquiry into his past
Pick-a-pocket
Contest
in time
Omega

Poem # 33 Melancholy

Melancholy

I am melancholy
I dress in shades of grey
I need to light a candle in the gloom.
I have watched snails crawl up
garden walls.
I am loneliness,
the dark of night my cloak,
I retreat in the arms of
solitude, silence and depression
the companions I would glady
dismiss at a welcoming smile.

Poem # 32 Fragile

Fragile

Fragile
broken
divers fragments
ripped to pieces
totally fallen apart
shattered

Poem #31 Imagination and reality: fear is a sharper weapon than a sword

Imagination and reality: fear is a sharper weapon than a sword

there are many beautiful women
in the world
with one or two or three children
and one wonders about their husbands
who aren't there.

when I visit their homes
I like opening cupboards and looking in
or under the sink
or in the wardrobe.

I expect to find the husband
and he'll say
"mate, did you notice her
she's a bit long in the tooth,
not the woman she used to be
her bums sagged...... and when
she eats onions she farts......"
and then he says
"but I'm very useful
I can fix things
I know how to weld and change
the oil in my car. I can play tennis, football,
and I can finish fifth or sixth in any
triathalon anywhere. I've got a set of
golf clubs and a handicap in the eighties. I
know how to excite a woman and what to do
about it. I've got an Akubra hat with the brim
turned down at the front and back,
I could fight if I have to, or make a
cocktail.

and I'll say, "look, I was just leaving"
and I will leave before he can challenge me
to arm-wrestling
or tell me a dirty joke
or show me his right bi-cep.

but really
all I find in the cupboards are
coffee cups and plates
and under the sink a stack of hardened
wettexes, and in the closet lots of clothes
and when you meet him he's friendly

and nice enough like a shoehorn, or a trolley
in the supermarket whose wheels run well
and you can't feel bitter
and the children are
playing happily
and life is sad and not dangerous
and therefore fair enough;
and the wife brings you a cup
of coffee in one of those
coffee cups and the husband
doesn't
jump out.