Looking Back In Time

The Flavour of Love (10th December 2009)

For no apparent reason on my way to work today all I could think about was the colour of love, or more specifically the colour of my love. I not only considered the actual colour of my love but the flavour of it too, its essence, its taste and its effects. I know in the most general terms love is considered to be red, maroon, mauve, pink, purple, magenta, crimson, vermillion, violet or some other variation of these colours. I think it is mostly the dull minded who lack creativity who would consider the colour of love to be one, or a variation, of these colours. I would like to believe that love is not limited to any one definition or experience and therefore the colour of love can be as varied as the plants of the planet or the sands of the universe or the spirits of the galaxy.

I think the colour of my love is something dark brooding brown, enchantingly solid, thick with the seriousness of itself, undoubtedly and candidly  there, yet remaining mysterious enough to invite even those who don’t believe. It has a richness to it that is of the most natural and nurtured type, that yearns to spread that richness to all that it comes in contact with. It is strong and ever lasting yet it is not fixed because it changes in cycles like the seasons of the planet. At times it changes from its dark brown shade to a much lighter variation until it at times becomes greener, with the lushness of growth and expansion. When it is green it can be anything from bright lime at times of rejoicing to khaki green at times of consoling and even to jade when my own internal beauty is recognised.

Then of course throughout its expression my love has a hint of orange that shines as streaks and other times appears as dots, all the while giving off a radiance in a sense of its own humble pride. These three colours, brown green and orange, are of course just the main colours since they are so dear to me. The truth is I suppose on any given experience of love other colours I have not mentioned become dominant in my expression of love. It changes from partner to partner from experience to experience, all the while remaining true to its fullest expression. I learn I weep I grow I love…



At night I close my eyes and hold my breath

Trapped in love’s ways as I ruminate on days left,

Between now, the hereafter and the many other careless hours spent,

Seeking through the silence that respect from everyone else

When all that really mattered is you and how you’ve felt,

Since the beginning when we dreamed, till now when all resistance melts,

We have presented our best even when vagueness spoke

And shrouded us in impossible fears like a dark satin cloak,

Trying to taint the beauty, which we have created against the odd glares of most,

Lying in my bed alone like a single rose in a vase

I smile insanely like looking in a mirror and seeing no face,

For I know that you are but a heart beat away, perched in my special place,

Far from the depraved shapes of societies envy

And even further from my own old habits that try to take me,

Yet close to all that is me, both good and bad, as you make me carefree,

With a feeling that will always be like copious colour

Seen through the ravenous eyes of an unashamed lover,

I am touched by your abundance, purely charmed as I choke with wonder,

At how you can be like a perfect summer of sun and rain

Dancing along the heart’s extremities and yet never looking to blame,

Just being you, within this world, making sure each day is never the same,

Nursing the pains of your children your family and those who care

At times I seek pardon from the universe as I learn how to share,

Releasing what is dear to me, your individuality and wholeness, always there,

For I want for you to see what I see in you

The intellect of a wizard and passion so true,

That could achieve anything impossible, including changing the seasons on cue,

My love, you imbue me with the will to meaning

The ability to find diamonds where once there was bleeding,

That power of supreme reasoning, backed by self belief that is eternally redeeming,

All memories are worth keeping now that you have entered my life

There is balance in my paradise created through strife,

As I finally learn how to love and laugh, and also look forward to our next fight.

The First Breath

That first indisputable breathe is the finest,

The boldest, innocently thirstiest, taking as much as it gives,

The air enters the tautly flared nostrils with the kindest,

Soothing force, giving vitality, reminding the being that it lives,

 Sweeping in uncontrollable yet perfect twirls it travels,

Down the eagerly opened wind pipe, the gateway between life and death,

The eyes close at the serenity of it all and the spirit unravels,

The first taste reaches both lungs, the deep cosmos, where it will be spread to the rest,

A brief stillness washes over the entire body as the conscious mind is disconnected,

Momentarily allowing the nothingness to seep in, invading, creating harmony,

It takes an eternity in which life and all its perplexity is accepted,

Nothing matters, meaning is void and the feeling of falling is taken calmly,

The very planet has entered, tasting earthy and feeling warm,

Mixing with the waters of the body, the emotions that bind being and world,

It is the realisation of a perfect design by imperfect forms,

The startling unification, a majestic bliss, the purity of energy returns,

Then there is movement as a collective release shudders through the being,

A single message heard throughout, echoing with the same vigour as the first breath,

The purpose is clear with a need acknowledged and naturally freeing,

There is nothing to be hidden, nothing to be feared and nothing from the past to be kept,

The mental capacities take hold of awareness as everything goes out,

The planning, the doubting, the worries and the dreams of a better existence,

The heart releasing its hurts like torrential rains from summer clouds,

A purging, a breaking of unwanted cycles, an abandonment of resistance,

The physical body welcomes the unity taking up the melodic rhythm,

One becomes two then three and then many more,

The spirit fully content with this living,

Shines brightly from the being’s core…

The Reflection of a Dying Flower

A flower not seen is like the diminishing of meaning,

Colour fading away as if my being is no longer me,

As if everything I ever lived for was a lie, a truth not worth keeping,

Something spent and decidedly with no certain need to be,

The eyes of the beholder are a web in a flower garden,

The portals through which the shyly vain can be hungrily admired,

Like mirrors capturing opinions that over time harden,

Revealing nothing but the fallibility of those most desired,

Every garden is populated with things beautiful and grotesque,

Mingled together like the characters of a delightfully tragic opus,

The macabre fates of all twisted like an unhinged obsession,

Holding together a reality that promises nothing in each moment,

Everything passes through the hazardous fields of perception,

Without cover from construal and its boxing inclinations,

Even I in first person cannot be an exception,

Hunted and preyed on by any other’s fascination,

Watered by a need to be wanted I am prone to whittle,

A shivering silhouette in the shade of towering normalities,

What I see in me at times seems so little

I lend an ear to my vanity and suffer for it romantically,

It takes just a single seed to sow a world of illusion,

Coming from inside or outside the consequence is always the same,

Dazzlingly bright its growth is mired in confusion,

Stretching or bending by force or will there is nobody to blame,

Everything is aligned and the elements have made the perfect recipe,

A pattern is followed that strangely allows for dismantling error,

I see myself perfectly in no need of any remedy,

Never given any meaning I see things much clearer

I Am The Spider Farm Manager

Just A Poem

A day is spent in wanton ways

In a way so timeless I forget to count my days,

So much to say with actions soon to follow

I can’t complain when the sun sets on sorrow,

If I am allowed the honour of capturing spontaneous merriment

Then it is with great fervour that I confront my impediments.

Upon the edifice of yet another challenge

A day is housed in absolute balance,

No anomalies, no complaints, no wrongs, no rights

A day’s full sunshine can be the darkest known light.

It all happens before it is even conceived

And outcomes are rejected before they have even been received.

Not much is believed when living no longer matches the story

When riches and rags are conceived of poorly,

When happiness is so good it’s gory

And morbid heals your wounds sorely.

A day is more than enough for one to become reborn

Into self realisation that cracks like dawn,

For there is nothing that can contain the acquisitiveness of want

Encouraged by the clumsiness of the intellect rendered blunt,

Still searching such effort is the breathe of the day

In a way just a chance to try again…

Planet Red

Our Days were always numbered from the Beginning it seemed

With Nothing Everlasting foreseen even in our Wildest Dreams,

A Breathe of Fresh Self Esteem with an Air of the Supreme, what did it all mean?


We never cared to ask, because to ask was to momentarily return Behind the Mask

Hidden from Each Other with a Laugh never Betraying Dark Tales from the Past,

But why would the Lost Find Need to Fear Chance?


Those whose Hearts are Endlessly Bleeding give no Certain Reason

Like Love Struck Demons left seething

 From repeating unpleasing Mercy Actions at the Height of Hunting Season,

Is it a Wonder then that I find her Redeeming?

Leaving me Bleeding from the Agony of a Naturally Sweet Feeling?


I have Nothing left of Her except Images of what I thought She was:

A Rain Queen, A Scarlet Temptress seemingly Descended from Above,

How did she manage to make my Bronze Skin Buzz?


Haunted by her Laughter, an Orchestra of Disaster, the Music to my Madness

With nothing to look after, I’m Falling Faster, the Thrill is Fabulous,

But who will document my Sadness?


Living by the Word, she is a Woman of a Girl, with Eyes as Beautiful as Pearls

Looking into them made me feel like I knew exactly why Planets Turned,

What possessed this Lioness with a Playful Spirit that Burned as she slyly purred?


I’m but a Fool with no Knowledge of the Usual, a Victim of my own Obtuse Refusal,

But somehow my daftness always gained her endearing approval

Or did I miss something crucial?


I’d rather not know for I am Too Deep now

Lavishing in the Extraordinary, wanting never to be found,

Is that me pretending not to hear the Sound?

Of all those Echoing Voices asking me how?


My menace awakened asking me where did she go

Not able to answer, still mesmerised by how her Thick Ebony Dreadlocks flowed,

Was it really possible that I once glimpsed her Soul?


I feel like I’m living in her world only without her

Somewhere there, but not quite, like enjoying the View of a Mountain,

Could my Youth be returning to the Fountain?


Everyday and every night I’ll send her this Message:

You were a Moment, you are Forever, you will be a Timely Blessing,

My only question is: Does She Have Any Confessions?

Ages Away

Ages away at future’s end,
bound by timeless memories shared

Touched by waste in a vacant space, the
stuff left over when angels descend,

Given without purpose, I seek thirstily
below the surface

Blindly perceiving shapes behind my
face, doing myself a noble service,

Unknown but undeniably there, a clear
conscious is precisely rare

Stripped of this life’s grudges and
colourful smudges, beyond the need for air,

Taken beyond reasonable measure, love is
a feasible adventure

Journeyed while on journey wisdom comes early, before you’ve known the pleasure,

Living outside circles of ways and
expectations, the dead pass on no recommendations

Sharing in their lostness I’m burdened
by options, to come or to go without lamentation,

Learning through the intellect, thoughts
amount into debt

When seeing becomes freeing, the God of
Karma will come to collect,

Actions cruel behaviours habits abound,
the deeds the fate the lessons amount

Brought into existence from nothing like
mystic gypsies, I return without a sound,

Bloodless, still, ghastly alive,
galvanized by a heart that’s oversized

I hunt for the kill like a nomad with a
bolshie will, trying to feed my mind,

Plagued by the fear of not fearing,
obsessed with the need for meaning

A wary soul that never seems to get old,
grasping at dreams that keep disappearing…


At the distant past’s beginning, basking
with the forgotten still living

 Unfelt is the abundance of my closed inner
substance, like devils with no misgivings,

Taken for what I am, barely looking for
anything on the ground worth a damn,

Analytically deceiving the world beyond
seeing, undoing the indecent obtusely bland,

In denial and known I’m somewhere safe,
with a common guilt vaguely brave

Dressed by death’s blessings and dull
messages, I’m suffering from a nourished age,

Given within a justifiable boundary,
hate is always floundering

Stuck in an unmoving place naivety is
cured late, after I’ve known doubting,

Dying inside spirals of the unforeseen,
the living give counsel through what they have been,

Estranged from their findings I’m free
from deciding, to be or not to be every single deed,

Unlearning through the heart, feelings
become a prospering art

When touching feels like nothing, the
God of Dharma will remind me of what I am not,

Instincts benign sentiments all novelty
perishes, the undone the nameless the soul cherishes

Taken back into decay like something I
cannot say, I leave with all that my spirit embellishes

Bloody, twitching, nicely dead, weighed
by an emptiness inside my head

I wait in a dastardly web for my kill’s
life to ebb, turning my heart to lead,

Uninfected by the love of loving,
oblivious to the denial of what’s coming

An invigorated body fresh with worry,
releasing a reality so real, it’s numbing…