Sunday, 6 January 2008

Goodbye Old Friend

Goodbye old friend. I’m faraway now
and you still reach out with words to clip me and steer me
like a father with no wisdom, only fears
yet prone to pontification, a faux pas these days of ridiculous men.
Try making a muscle of your biceps or standing on your head,
anything to turn things inside-out for laughs.

I’m tired of pretending to hold your mind together
as it leaks memories that would destroy everyone I love.
You don’t need my pity; you are full of it.
Like a bomb that has been diffused by the rain,
your voice no longer sings. Blame the world,
say I am older, out of touch, be grandiose,
more spite. Time is always waiting
like a father, but I am faraway
now, goodbye old friend.

Thursday, 3 January 2008

Not to Wander

If you breeze into a new town
new spirits breathe into you
and the longer you stay the deeper they burrow,
until you are praying at their altar
and find love after all.

If you turn it away and go on to the next town
the love will breathe you in
faster than the last,
quick to take the depths burrowed before
and yank an echo in the gut
pulling you back to the altar, vacated now,
all the demons soured
and pouring in.