99c

It would have been an easy celebration today; but then it's all just a whirrr of pictures and colour and emotions through my fingers when you think of it all. Now distant memories of way back then when carefree was a state of being, and forever raspberry on my lips: 99c gloss from Mr Price, a 3-door car to the Symphony of Fire and some jeans ripped up on the unforgiving tarmac. Laughter our eternal companion. Or was it all those other times: a late night phone call because your electric blue spray-can spilled its guts over the beach in tribute to me. Vanity inflated then. I can only imagine it still, seeing as this was all before MMS evidence became crucial to our existence. Or the sacred spliff on a couch in the middle of who-knows-where was a reason to barricade our shared life with all that deadly silence. Then the giggles in tandum to really nothing. Promises? You always had a knack for those. And the moments of greatest tests when we questioned each other. And you blew it all up in smoke when you shouted my name at the top of your lungs in the crowd. Often. What about that offish day; my birthday? Midnight. A long story for the guardians of the night. An empty suitcase. And a can of my favourite fizz with priceless slice-of-cake simplicity did the trick that engraved itself on this feeble mind. Unstilted.

Sigh.

You would have been worth the celebration today, if you were. I should have said goodbye when you left here. I should have. I wish I said it then. I didn't. I think I'll say it now. Ghosts of the past have no future, don't you know? Mortal presence can't keep up with that much glamour. Thanks, really. This cots getting tiny. You have to go. I can barely breathe. Still, it was fun. And you're gone, and you're here, like you said you'd always be. I know I know, a promise is a promise. But please, just go.

on sheep and sleep

Of course I know that He has this Plan

and so I wade through the thick of it all

even in that moment of

an unavoidable sense of de ja vu

But then there's moments when I think

Let this be just a little different;

You know...

Seeing as it looks like

all my prayers

are being answered in one divine sweep!

Just a hint of something different;

a deviation from that pattern that drives me bonkers, almost!

And then it strikes:

that element of over-thinking things.

Aargh!

And in one Whoosh!

its all a chaotic

sludge of something

a bit dramatic.

Drama is good.

But not if you're trying

to get some

sleep.

As it is I rarely

sleep

on flight.

Sigh. So there's some catching up to do.

Hmm...

Maybe I should be doing grander things,

like counting sheep.

Backwards!

fools gold

in a land of milk and honey all we ever seem to find are mounds of clay covered in powdery sand, an obstacle course of sticky tar waiting to capture and cover, then feather and debone to near perfection, a skewered lump of stuff. then theres that journey to be made along the rainbow of imagination, with the promise of great things at the end of much strife that pretends to be great fun. in a land of honey and milk all we are left with at the end of the slippery slide is a handful of fools gold. no rainbow. only more mounds of that clay from which we came. and the smell of nostalgia forming clouds of de ja vu and veils of contention and even more mirages of that milk and honey as was revealed in dreams long forgotten. and when the mist has cleared and u pick urself up, and dust off the grime of joviality (i darent say mockery!) - the pot of glittery remnants awaits in consolation - that ultimate collection of gold for the fool that was fooled for the gold.

pearls of life

pearls, floating in my mouth,
are like speedtraps on an open road..
like when i gargle and
they pop about aimlessly,
of no use to the everyday workings
of my body;

but to my heart and mind from whence they
came as clots of the blood
and thoughts,
Oi, what a Sight?!

they cause havoc!

i think its time they
were rolled out
into the
streets

some will trip
slip
fall

as i have

and some will
catch their
brilliance before
they disappear into
the gutters of bitterness..

and some
will be fashioned in glory
to be worn around loves neck.

aah, these pearls!

pearls of yesterday
making me choke on them today,
waiting for a rather
embellished tomorrow.

waiting.