Anaïs, Anaïs, French translation

je t’ai trouvée Anaïs Nin,
je t’ai trouvée et je refuse de te laisser partir

je sens ton souffle chaud sur ma joue.
je sens le sang se déplacer en ton coeur tandis que

je caresse et palpe ton sein.
j’ai rêvé de toi la nuit dernière—

je t’ai aperçue du coin de l'oeil
,je t'ai fixée du regard,

je t'ai fait rougir j’ai joué dans l'espace de ton âme.
je me languis d'utiliser des mots qui feront battre ton coeur.

je sais ce que tu penses, ce que tu ne penses pas,
Je vois aussi que tu réfléchis trop

je veux te tourner le dos, te laisser te mettre derrière moi
je veux - oh Anaïs Anaïs - je veux te laisser me trouver aussi.

you have a lot

you have a lot
more
of my soul
than
either one of us
ever
intended you to have.

recession

Cranes loom over the buildings of Londontown
The grey water reflects the prosperous Southbank
As the morning moves a circuit of cold, dark, mugginess.

The industrious denizens pace foot forward, foot forward,
They move determined towards their destination
Whilst a creeping insecurity lingers within them all.

On the 9th hour, Gordon speaks to the nation
His plan connects global speakers, calms through nationalising,
Except the red, red sun is already rising in the East.

dear memories

people roll in and out
of one's conscious life.

much like how the tide
moves onto the beach.

holds onto your toes,
grips you; and pushes you

firm into the granuled ground.
it chills and refreshes,

calms and enlivens,
but then-- as quickly

as it arrives-- it is gone.
Leaving with only dear

dear memories, of what was,
and what now is not.

people roll in and out
of one's conscious life.

much like how the ocean
swirls around the ship,

sinuously, kneading the sides
with a soft and firm caress.

supporting the load, watching,
providing danger and exitement.

pushing towards a destination
and at the same time restraining.

then the winds die down,
and there is calm and all is gone.

dear memories of what was,
and what now is done.

i walked with a zombie

felt that air on my face
and the palm wine on your breath,

the okra is good,
but the pepper soup is so much better,

i can sense you my spirit child
you want to be so free

reeking havoc on the very people
that have led to your doom.

Critical Mass

Born in the city -- but not particular
(sounds familiar)

Legs that ache whilst pushing past hills.
Tumulous crowd of rainbow colours.
Apparently to be critical

but seems

Unaware of the politics
riding oblivious
To norms and convention trying to create

A difference.

Masses of event (but masses of thought?)

… Critical

Exhilaration reins in atmosphere

Pushing down haight street cheering,
Shouting out against the b(l)eeps.

Yoga

I meditate

think of you

There with me

We hold hands

whilst doing

Corps...e pose.

Anais, Anais

"talking a broken dream, with spaces, reversals, retractions, and galloping fantasies"

i found you Anais Nin,
i found you and i refuse to let you go.

i feel your hot breath on my cheek.
i feel the blood moving thru your heart as

i caress and palm your breast.
i dreamt about you last night--

i noticed you out of the corner of my eye,
i stared at you, i made you blush,

i moved into your soulful space.
i long to use words to make your heart race.

i know what you are thinking, what you are not thinking,
i can see you think too hard, as well.

i want to turn my back on you, let you move behind me,
i want -- oh, Anais, Anais -- i want to let you find me too.

the englishmen

the englishmen

are the loneliest at the bar.
staring into the bottles
or at a newspaper

waiting for something
or someone

who is never going to come.

for leah southwell-wright

I close my eyes and remember you
sipping the cold, heavy and sickly sweet
substance, that brought about your end.

I remember you,
like you were sitting here
in front of me,

I remember,
your sarcastic tone,
and your narcassistic and

strangely meek style.

the way you moved around the subject,
and moved around others.

you caused them to spin with confusion.
(and then some).

but you looked on confused yourself.
unsure as well as completely sure.

a social commentator, never a sheep,
a leader to the unleadable.

you were revolutionary.

a legend.

I would worship the ground you walked upon

(if you still walked).

a thick and heavy red

rattle rattle rattle goes
the naked fridge. the bass lingers

the percussion crashes
and the breeze slides in

cutting the coffee-rich air
with a bite, and a lick

to soften the blow
of your sweetest absence.

there is a beautiful pink-haired
maiden to my right, and to my

left a dark, sultry brunette,
although, who would know?

the yellow glow of this
environment frames delicious

and the citrus bites my tongue
before I turn to my work,

whilst the white fog moves above
outside, and the tree glistens with

a thick and heavy red.

The waves roll in and out

The waves roll in and out
as i lie next to a round circle
and a temporary turtle

musing

recent history,
dub philosophy.


-- you are

a Wanderer
and a Dreamer
a Shaman and a Seer.

my silent muse
and my outspoken listener. --


i lie still passive

(the waves roll in and out)

Waiting
Watching

for your next move.

The waves roll in and out

In and out
In and out
In and out

the crescendo builds

as the spray coats us in saline mist
and the birds descend
and the winds breathes soft promises
and the
and the


and then

asleep.

Orange

Something is very orange in the way I think about you

I can’t place my eyes on exactly why or what

But it is definitely so so deep,

Organic, sinuous and warm, so natural to me.


Orange.

It came to me, this severe orangeness,

Bright like the brightest thing I have seen in this, my favourite city,

And hopeful, simply and hopeless, just the same as the

Amber light. No stop and also no go.


Orange.

So juicy and ripe and fresh,

A citrus sting, that tingles and tantalizes,

And leaves me wanting another bite

Not a small bite, and not a big one either.


Orange.

I long to peel back all the layers

And examine your insides, to learn

Nothing and also everything,

I want to smell you acutely.


You are oh so
Orange.

ella waltzes

ella waltzes
and the world spins.

wind blows paper, whilst remainders of light strike us down

displayed beyond; silhouettes
made of sharp and fresh and

the future passes above us, knowingly,
the past rests and moves in sight

we are still


calm.


the winds moves around and then within

and we in the present feel the cool,
friendly ground
pushing into
our backs
as the wind whispers fate

and as the sounds all around remind me
to

strike the keys and stop.

rest the fingers knowingly and with steadiness

meditate

feeling the white between the black,
and the remote coldness
(which holds us back but feels the most intense and particular down the sides)

and then it does
and then it does
and then it does just

stop.

deep dreaming

Chords breaking on discord
(sergei recites) down as I glide down

Finding myself
diving down
deep
deep
down
into the wreck
(like rich did)

I saw you-- with her --
Down at the very bottom

Paralyzed
(did you want it to be like that?)

Staring at her
Whilst she

stared back at me
With such hostile negativity
That I was scared, and also somewhat ashamed

To be watching.

I turned to head back
Just as the cleansing came

I swam up fast,
broke surface


Then remembered I had now lost you.