Music

www.myspace.com/sarazaltashmusic

Peace is ambiguous

Six self-conscious referents
Vying for employed escape
From the emerging summer damp.
Diatribe graduates rant,
Peace is ambiguous.

Why should I last without you all?
Not seize up in an icy tunnel
Of withering dust,
Forsworn destinations.
Peace is ambiguous.

Cursory inclusion begets
Abandoned plans.
Your rotted parts meet heavy lips,
I only have to make you happy.
Peace is ambiguous.

Cause and Effect

Present at the first dawn of madness,
I sat, wide open and alone,
Watching the epiphanies flood faster,
Caressing erosion, alternate happenstance.
Thinking made it so,
Suddenly, after years of wondering.
Thinking made it so. And why not?
Inside, all answers are unbidden,
And questions askew from description.
Constant longing.
So make it so.
And forge from words those thoughts
Into the crisp, cawing dawn,
Shaking the firs and furniture of logic,
Cause and effect.

Elegy

Starring in all directions:
Platform to post;
You never see
What’s inside you,
The ghost erected in honour,
As if glories were just
Passing and time
Its elegy.

Choose a cup

Time for a new poem, it's a bit different from the others. Hope you like it. XXX

Indecision metaphors all these
Monsters. Calculating meanders
Through road work tunnels, kids muck.

Choose a cup for father’s
Milk. Lovingly; warm German
Memories.
Choose a cup
For the trickling.

The cups were two,
Few others wined with them.

Slender, glass,
fit for steel receptions.
Gilded, round,
handless worn,
Enough.

Metaphor marking
Stretched cling film,
Sardine tails.

Drink the excess!
Take on the chance
of overflowing.
Drink
the spoils made merry.

If there is too much,
you’ll live
by it;
sweet father’s milk.

Or
Let and inch of smooth beige
forced stone protect the blended
Meniscus.
Cover and seal and save.
Emergency’s.

Racks full.
Tails trashed in disposal.
All clear and set,
Spoon sipping
Sweet
Father’s
Milk.

Pour!

Sleek, svelte
Milk!
An ambrosial cascade of molten flour!

You still have to choose.

A good friend of mine recently suggested that I ought to update my poetry blog. But I did not have any new poetry? I never thought of someone to expect writing from me, not unless they needed to grade it and file it away. So it struck me now that this blog could be a good way to stay in touch with all the people who might care to read what I want to write down. Even if all they want to do is grade and file.

Minotaur Shock: Rinse.

I didn't pay enough attention in class when we were learning about Svengali, his little mute French girl - what was her name? Well it seems like some crazy guy here wants to turn me into is mute little french girl. Either that or I believe it when he says he sees something in me. I don't see anything good in him, I begrudge him acknowledgement and am vaguely repulsed by him. He is too close.

Good. And then there is Boomting my lovely housemate - not room mate because we do not technically share a room, you silly Americans.

More to come. I have to teach myself to sing tomorrow. The thing with this city, the grass is green everywhere, everyday, it's what you don't reap that you pay for.