the ivory tower

the ivory tower looms behind me on the horizon,
say the horizon line holds that tower of plated ivory;
with a knowledge of what was left behind,
and what was taken away from me.

that tower, that bony fortress of unrealistic dreams,
the ivory tower held my fairy tale dreams;
dreams which had no bearing on the real,
for nothing is quite what it seems.

the black tower on the city’s horizon is unforgettable,
my memories of that tower are now unforgettable;
i have a box of photos which carve my mind out,
manipulating me to the aerial.

those menacing money-rich days seem so far away now,
those black and menacing rich days seem so far away;
all that money that was meant to show
our vows – our dry, emotional essay.

the ivory tower still looms behind me on the horizon,
the horizon line lingers like that dress of ivory;
with a knowledge of what i've left behind,
and what i have removed from me.

singing in the street

we went for
singing in

the street.

a rising up of
spontaneity
and the

innocence of the evening

caused by a pursuit
of poetry.

two laps of
16th and mission,

did nothing for
our quest,
and everything for,

togetherness.

all the while,
the winds calmed
to an amplified

sway,

as we continued our
browsing and arousing

on valencian streets,
past clothing, fittings
and musical

outpour.

you improvised lines
and, i, wondered at

the night.

until the bookstore,
where,

sitting on the red floor,

we stared caffeine dazzled
and love

dazed.

sitting in a perfect
frame

between
keats, wordsworth and

yeats.

we sang the
innocence

and daunting

beauty,

of it all.

Huka Falls

Waikato invites

the wanderer
to wonder

after Oruanui’s
majestic
outpour.

Hukanui.

turbulence
climbs the narrow gorge,
the dense foam
shifts,
slides,
pulling and pushing
through the acid
volcanic
rock.

i stand
on the bridge,
looking down,
taking in
the sublime
magnitude of that
milky blue
stain.

Huka Falls.

nature’s beauty
made into
tour bus fare.

it has taken
one day
and a half
for us to
get to this point.
via Aratiatia
after the yellow
belch of Rotorua.

and here
the black war
looms.
the hostile
treads through my
head and
i hear its
roar.

and now,
you are gone.
and now,
you are long
lost
in the green
hay grass

by Huka Falls.

heroisch part ii

“Any ache or pain or sadness or guilty feeling
was completely flushed out”

in the West,

he watched the sun hit upon
Eucalyptus trees. he stared
into the eyes of others, charting

their beauty and their weaknesses.
like so many before him, he marveled
in the hope of this city, and

managed to gather his abilities to
heal and protect. his selfless self-sacrifice.
he met another wandering figure,

she was as lonely and trapped as he was
over-virtuous, they followed each
others golden paths for a short time.

but the beat hit and hit again,
as the voices and footsteps sounded.
imagining painful rejection

he gathered the strength
from an internal power, praying to
Jung, Nietsche & his personal deity.

the pride was infecting,
but the realities debilitating,
as the past continued to move

within his veins, and the present
longed for a stability but only came
in bites and chunks like a fairground ride.

he fought with the actual,
pushing and persevering though the
city seemed a bitch, and a whore.

***

so he decided to return.

back to the coldness, as his feet
seized and ran – still chasing to find
what he has been looking for.

back to the coldness, like the
Prodigal wandering back, the memories
more wrong than first imagined.

back to the coldness, where the
snow dances in the light at dawn
whilst he stands alone.

he knew, deep down, that he had to
protect and defend himself. he knew that he
needed to push past the negativity

and try once more.

for home is where the mind and
heart are, and his home was no longer
the place he originated from, but here.

them

those eyes
travel
across souls
meet
lost terrain
expect
vivid futures.

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.

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.

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.

cape reinga

trying to cast the spirits away
but nothing’s left.

his sad old spirit stayed where it was
a continuation of the memories
a continuation of the ghosts

a continuation of the remembering.

journeyed against time, against wind.
pushed to the edge of the edge
and for what?

for an empty promise never resolved.

the winds pushed them, held them on the cape
trying so hard to fly away, leave this world behind,
but the gripping hands held them back.

after fighting to get to the ends of the earth.

the ends of existence,
the rock face wouldn’t let them be.
paralysed feet, they held onto that hard rock,

unable to move, unable to speak.

she looked up to the white sky, searching for God,
clinging onto a hope that she wasn’t sure remained.
searching around I found emptiness.

the dirt roads carried them to our goal.

with a vehicle soon to wither and depart,
with the good mood, it withered and departed,
with the wish to live, it withered; departed.

like the spirits cast from the tree at reinga -
might love rise up and leave us in the dead of the night?

hawai'i

naked creatures drawing in the black
buoyant and green turtles
the long windy highway.

hallucinations at the top of mauna kea
angels demons cloud your vision
whilst rays open eyes.

pink, purple, blue fly by
hard lava flow rock
another crater in history.

red hot sticky passion
playing in the waves of the ocean
papaya brunch, itchs tea.

faint stars but bright planets
heaps of aloha to cleanse the soul
enough warmth soothes spirits.