Poem of the month: September

( After Alice Fulton )        
         
I once had reason to fear        
humans in general—          
       
people are people, individual        
as their unpredictable demeanor          
regardless of upbringing          
         
I've experienced them        
in farmhouse pigsties        
to Buckingham Palace—        
often unable to tell a difference        
aside from clothes or conduct.            
         
I once observed various groups        
in a museum:          
         
The elite, social ladies        
with diamonds and emeralds          
capturing the light from paintings;          
         
shining status symbols, sailing        
in an ocean of titanium white teeth—        
ornately framed islands of color          
         
drowning in dirty martinis        
and stoles of long-dead mink.          
         
The middle-class, parents        
their children in tow, controlled        
mannerisms dictated by rules—        
         
deep furrows across their brow:          
college tuition, savings, glasses, braces—        
societal expectations outweighing relaxation.          
         
The elderly, taking their time        
sipping beauty as though holy water        
offered during a drought          
from a golden goblet—        
         
threadbare raiment veiling skin        
cracked by elements; their faces          
angelic in appreciation: Michelangelo        
Matisse, Chagall, Van Gogh.       
         
The lonely, solo navigators          
circling some dreamy landscape          
of harvested wheat, or starry night          
over a provincial café          
         
Forlorn eyes having dissolved        
into brush strokes of cobalt blue        
yellow ochre, resurrected cadmium hues—        
         
memories of unrequited love        
relived over and over in a heart        
unwilling to let go.           
         
Then, her—        
         
there, red coat over sensible shoes;          
a second-hand bag, draped          
across an upright shoulder, simple        
updo complimenting  high cheekbones          
         
lightly touched with rouge. Her eyes          
shimmering greater than emeralds          
off-set by diamonds, having survived          
loneliness alone, she now eschews        
         
the in-crowd with a polite nod, drifting          
chin up—a compassionate zephyr          
gliding about the gallery as fresh air          
for those who couldn't breathe.          
         
I innately knew, at age eight        
she was exactly who I wanted to emulate—        
and I, shy and insecure, smiled regardless        
         
when she playfully navigated about me          
and winked.          
~

Life still pencils the city
Fruit in bowl weeps all weekend
Saturday night, Sunday morning-sickness.

City sickness growing inside, fallow
Forever breathes the lonely A-Z
Locations as dreams, drifting mist.

Sheets of mist swathe Hampstead Heath
Wind rattles emphysemic copses,
There’s bones in them ponds & here
Lost somewhere on the aborted page.

Page of hearts cremate > 451 Fahrenheit -
Shelley’s furnaced heart (throe’d to Mary’s silk)
Bled Viareggio sands to red river.

River’ed jibber-jabber runs thru’ bedsits
Vortex dimly lit rooms, walls skinned
As diseased rabbits in warren of ghosts -

For the ghosts will come, always they come:
Night travellers calibrate deadly deeds
Forever, the last tube terminates @ Maladjusted Road.

Stone road wet from rain-train wheels
Softly buff(er)s the loneliness of walkers,
Under narrow bridge, talk to yourself as stranger.
 
For the strangers will arrive, always they arrive:
As scarecrows stalking feather bundles of crows,
Life pencils cities breathing…. eternal…. still.

 **Andhaathi is a classification of Tamil poetry in which last word of a previous verse comes in first words of next verse. Generally, more sparse / minimal than my effort.

 
I caught him once
To the man I whispered, 'Father'
Staring into the abyss
Frail remnants-
of a strength I once knew.

A glimpse of his years
Fighting amongst the crowds
This monolith of a man.
Inequatable statue
The faintest echo of regret

For a second, within a lifetime
I felt the pain of his years
And the sorrows of his loss
This mythical figure of mine
More human than ever before.

This power who caused me fear,
and love and fortune,
Whom I elevated so high
How could I never see that
In front of me sat, just a man.

I caught him once
Contemplating life.
His many failures and hopes.
And as I smiled inwards
I slowly realised,

With swelling pride:

Here is my Dad.

Never before has anything
So magnificently shaken and terrified me
Straight down to my core.

There's a new wave of life coming.
Sometimes it looks like a quiet moonlit night
Walking amongst the trees and the mysterious sounds.
Others its me running screaming,
Head swinging wildly to look back
At horridly beautiful things that haunt and chase me.

I can't help but fondly remember the happy times,
And my heart weeps for the girl I used to be.
Some nights I'm still that girl.
Others I revert back to a younger, more distant self...
Carrying all the catastrophes and voices back in time.
I sit on my Mama's back steps in my dreams
Just to cry and wish for someone to pick up my pieces
Put me back together in all my selfish, guarded ways.

I want to love again,
But my hands are shaky and weak
From trying to heal and love others
In a desperate fit of tunnel vision to happiness.
I still ache for all I've ever loved,
And the tears they cried in my arms
Linger faintly on my skin.

Forgive me for my absent mind
And distant eyes...
I can't help but mourn the hearts I broke
In a mindless attempt to guard my own.
Because in the middle of push and pull, love and war, madness and ecstasy,
I've completely shattered myself into dust
Scattered on back roads and in worn out trailers.
I'm tired, love...
But I'll love you with every broken piece I have.

 
She ~
bench pressed me
into obsession,
lifting me  
UP
too high.
 
Evidently ~
i was too HEAVY;
the weight of our lust
crushed us,
smothered us, both. . .
when she let go
of the apparatus  
that held our vested years
together
 
only a nonsensical equation:
1 x 1 = zero
became our divided remainder
& common denominator
 

 
We come together in moments
as our worlds tangle
into a sphere wholly ours
slipping in time
making memories
of things we won't do
in places we won't go
embraced in the intangible us
that ignores oceans and impossibility

There is a lifetime in your words
freedom in the warmth of your whisper
abandon soars on the breath of your sighs

The river of you rushes through my veins
and the beating of my heart
belongs to you
in these fleeting ripples
that rearrange our reality

Then we exhale the truth
our moment returned to time
so we don't say things we dare not say
that linger quietly in pleasant conversation
or exclaim in breathless silence

This growing cult of ignorance,
is becoming difficult to ignore;
with an attitude of indifference,
always ready to start a war.
 
When science goes out the window,
and compassion is out the door;
we’re left somewhere in limbo,
where rationale is nevermore.
 
Since climate change is a “hoax,”
instead of acting in great imminence;
they laugh like it’s a joke,
steady clapping at their insolence.
 
In the midst of a pandemic—
When everything is a conspiracy,
rather than listen to the academics,
they downplay its severity.
 
It’s all about control, you see!
Just a part of the liberal agenda;
Next, they'll put a chip in me,
that they'll track with a little antenna.
 
I’ve only one thing left to say,
and let it be the last…
Is it really too much to ask,
For you to wear a fucking mask?