2014

2014

In the Witness Stand at a Murder Trial

Where was the barber

When his mistress took her life?

Should he not have been there

Instead of his angry wife?

With the scissors of steel

And a depressed state of mind

The pretty young thing

Stabbed herself blind.

The wife, standing by

Says she was passive and silent,

But I know her better

Her tongue was a tyrant.

So who will lay blame in this horrible death?

Well, the young mistress did, with her dying breath.

See, I walked in the shop

Bloody beauty on the floor

Her face so disfigured

Blood flowing out the door.

Washing her hands clean

The spotless wife at the sink,

‘That bitch fucking did it!’

Is what we’d all think.

But as I rushed to the mistress

To tend her wounded head

She confessed “I did it to myself”

And then she was dead.

How many heartbeats

in one pretty life?

I can’t ask the mistress

And I won’t ask the wife.

The Barber’s a dullard

But the women think he’s hot

Now a wife with a murdering tongue

Is all that he’s got.

Look at him sit there,

Crying away

In a court room of people

Made of water and clay

And the wife in the jumpsuit

Awaiting the verdict

She holds back her tongue

But one can predict

What poison will fly

When she’s let off scot free

I pity that barber

And the lashing he’ll see.

Beautiful Thoughts

linger in my subconscious mind

Gold-flecked minnows

In a palace of tall soft weeds

Tendrils sway with the current

Let me drown there.

Triumph

With immeasurable grief

He took his first steps into the war

The enemy

a grenade

inside his gut

He knows how this will end

But he dons his armour

Rushes into battle

to meet the enemy

His arsenal the best in the world

His wife and children behind him

He rushes into battle

With a  war cry

A whoop of triumph

For he has already won

“Each day, Life!”

And ten years later

His treasure trove of victories

A gleaming overflowing satchel

Rubies, emeralds, gold, glowing

warm with memories

A life well played

Every child’s smile a jewel

A victory of hockey games

ballerina’s leap and twirl

tickle fest

bed time book

board game

day talked through

good hard cry

Fort built

Fort taken down

Fight with the wife that cleared the air

and make-up kisses

and walks together.

He bequeaths

His gleaming horde of victories

To his wife and children

It will keep them rich and happy

All of their days.

They will fight different battles

He has taught them how to fight well

His battle cry is on their lips,

“Every day, Life!”

They will amass treasure

Of love and fun

Of their own.

His triumph is complete.

Even in that final battle

The treasure of love was at its greatest.

The family linked

Awash in salted tears

Even this moment, a victory

Because they met it head-on,

Together,

The moment glows with eternal bonds of love.

Like so many new-cut thick gold coins

Stamped with the image of a King.

Every moment of existence treasured,

Valued,

Even grief, an experience held, tasted, talked about,

A vivid coin to be cherished by them

So much treasure

His mountain of triumph.

The warrior grins at his enemy

The Viking to Valhalla

The Greek Hero to Eleusian Fields

The man on the threshold

Of the next great Mystery

With immeasurable gratitude

He takes his enemy’s hand

But the enemy is no longer there

On the other side

Of a life well played.

Oh, Israel

Oh, Israel, you diamond in the desert.

You have been traded so many times,

passed over so many hands.

Each new owner cut you,

to catch and reflect the light

In a way that was pleasing to them,

But

Always you caught and reflected the light

Always you were pleasing to someone

And always you were coveted by others

who wanted to possess you.

Oh, Israel

Your heart is as hard as a diamond.

You do not feel the pain your wealth inflicts on your neighbours.

You are rich, they are poor.

You are heavy, Israel,

and you crush them as you roll around.

You claim a bigger and bigger territory,

‘mine’.

A blind thoughtless bulldozer,

you don’t reflect the light when you are rolling around on the ground like this.

You are just as dirty as the rest of us,

A simple mindless rock,

albeit almost indestructible,

but a rock,

a mindless rock

nonetheless.

Oh, cease your brutal rolling and crushing, Israel.

Be better.

Be elevated.

Be happy with

your form,

and this time,

and the people holding you.

It is enough,

and you have value,

but only when you are held up high,

to catch the light,

and reflect it back to us.

For Joy

Oh, young woman

You have a strong will

You are so bright

You control your future

You can heal your own past

You have power all others admire

And I’m not talking about the power of sex.

Your power stems from your brightness

Your life force is so strong

It carries all of us into the future

You are our leader

You shine.

There are trains

and there are cars

There are airoplanes

and rockets too

We have less

We have feet

We have bicycles.

Som many ways to get around and visit

with friends and family

I prefer my feet

and a forest floor

makes me connected

Sky and Earth.

Where are you, clouds

where are you, trees,

Where are you, forest?

I need to get out

into your arms, your gentle bosom,

you feed my soul

you make me whole

To hear the windsong through the treetops.

That’s my Artist’s Date.

It’s what I need.

A snowshoe will do.

Off I go.

Ink stained hands

She waits for her family

To give her away