Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Poem # 86 Death of a Roo

" If you don't own it then shoot it!" said the farmer.
"Forget fair, there's no such thing
as fair. When the lion eats the lamb,is that fair?
We're all part of the food chain.
Get yourself some fresh meat.
It's all there passing by in the night.
Yours for the taking.
Don't hesitate those rabbits and roos
can be dangerous don't let them make
eye contact just pull the trigger.
Here I'll show you how it's done."
He shot the biggest and the best.
A noble specimen that didn't deserve
to be shot, but he did.
This was a huge roo
as tall as a tall man.
It jumped a two metre fence
no run up, just jumped,
clear over it.
He shot him. In the head.
The roo shrugged it off.
He shot him again.
The roo turned, just like he was
offended, then he
kept going.
In my heart I knew something
was not right about this,
but there was no going back.
He shot him again,
the roo fell but he got back up.
I felt my eyes moisten.
The pastoralist kept firing.
The big buck never gave up,
he kept crawling.
I could tell that this was a new
experience for him.
It ended with a shot into
his eye.
It was done.
My eye wet with tears,
his with blood.
A proud individual,
quivvering he
finally, finally, finally
died.
As did something in me.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Poem # 83 Redfern Station Summer

Train carriage packed
 sit on the steps
personal space is minimal
get baked on the sunnyside
with heat blazing in.
Humid air smells of
sweaty bodies and
strengthening odors
air vents sigh a few breaths
like a wheezing ashtmatic
a brief taste of how
it should be is worse
than constant heat.
Let the wisp of air
caress your throat
like fingers and hope
nobody will collapse.
Third world experience
in a first world nation.
Land of the
stubborn cross.
                              

Monday, 29 July 2013

#82 Moroccan Slippers

I have some shoes
from the souq in Fes
like Bing and Bob
Morocco bound
long long toes
Babouches
Pasha Persian slippers.
The shopkeeper told
me when I wore them
they would make me
a real man,
a strong man,
a locomotive into a tunnel
all night long.
When I play the tabla
tap tap tapping
Maqsum, chiftertelli,
Ayoub, women
dance the camel and
the serving girl and
when they shimmy my
slippers toes curl
tighter and tighter with
the rhythms of their
undulating bodies
and when they stop
the toes uncurl again,
slack, flaccid, but
when they move again
the toes curl tighter
and tighter and tighter.
When I tried those
slippers for the first
time I embraced the
shopkeeper stroked
his back blew warm
breath into his ear.
Effendi!Effendi!
he cried in alarm.
Stop!Stop!
You've got the shoes
on the wrong feet!

Monday, 15 July 2013

#81 Soul Travel

When he was first born
a character was already there.
Where did it come from
was he an old soul?
I could already see the
character and it was
proven right. He is that
character now.
Where did that character
come from, was it a
parallel life? Where are
we now in our souls'
development?
Inside our genetic
string what is our
souls progress?
We are always
evolving or
devolving.A
succession of
interactions with
kindred spirits
precedes and recedes.
Do we move on or
just exist.

#80 The Night Sky

Exerted by a call natural I stood outside
my cabin awed by the night sky.
It swept, a stellar cresent  from west
to east and back again. I could see the
perspective of space unfold, the
constellations expanded in depth,
the firmament turning in every
direction. A space that contains
everything and is contained by
no boundary, and only a thinning
of its weft, like a path opened
towards Venus, to make it stand
out alone over the frame of
the earth, with a steady slash of
light exploded and concentrated
at one point.
I was mesmerized by the silver
moon, an opaque disc, a
luminous sphere outlined by
the obilque rays of the sun,
but this appeared to mean nothing
to the grey, blue, white, and
brown owl standing motionless,
eyes wide, on the apex of the roof,
who only blinked once and
seemed not to be impressed
at all.

Wednesday, 10 July 2013

#79 Court Dog

The accused Suspect X was summonsed
to the central court for a mention.
Bold and fearing nothing he tied his
trusting dog Unconditional Love to
the railing outside but lo! He was
sent down for two years!
The dog looked with increasing
worry to the only exit as the
afternoon shadows lengthened
into evening.
A young female barrister from
the DPP spotted love, knew
the offender would be longer
than anticipated and fostered
love into her own home.
Cuddles were exchanged and
praise heaped upon her kindness.
In the glow of this action
the inner city appeared to sparkle,
even toilet paper felt softer.
Eventually X, now on parole,
was able to lay claim to his
best friend and was duly presented
with an invoice for $73,000 for
the maintenance of
Unconditional Love
during his incarceration.


Saturday, 6 July 2013

#78 The Shadow Reader

She sits opposite
the swami Anilkumar
in newly purchased
saffron cheesecloth
acquired recently for
a pittance, eyes fixed
in rapture.
He is a soothsayer,
a psychic Phd in the
school of shadow knowledge.
In sonorous tones he can
divine ones entire self
past, present, and future
by calculating a paper cut out
of your shadow measured
with arcane rulers made from
fresh palm leaves and marked
with mysterious symbols.
He stares with intense brown
eyes and nods his shaven head
sagely.
In her previous life she was a highly
born spiritual and intellectual identity
in the upper Himalayas
......... but wait! There are
problems! He reaches out and
cups her breast, lightly
brushing the nipple, there
are blockages in her 'chakra'
energy centres .Healing sessions
will be needed at 3000 rupees each.
She will need many, many,many
sessions he states with multiple
sideways movements of his head,
but how else will she remove the
curse he can perceive has been
placed on her by an evil shaman
she did not notice in Chandigarh
where, he has observed from the label,
she purchased her outfit.