Monthly Archives: April 2014

Changeling

For two full years
she played house.

Buying drapes,
learning to cook,
entertaining relatives,
being the good wife.

An honest attempt
at being ordinary.
Two full years of sanity.
Feet firmly
planted in reality.

And then the itching began.
She started to dream again.

Her eyes would glaze over
as she stirred lentils over the stove.
And strange perfumes would
fill the kitchen.

She would
dream of elephants
and lotuses and skimpily
clad women bathing in
purple streams
in fuchsia forests.

She would dream of fame, name,
magazine articles on her.
The entrepreneur her refuses
to be domesticated.

She would dream on
the interstate, in malls,
while doing dishes.

Her chrysalis of fantasy.

Changing herself
in a cocoon of reveries,

The caterpillar housewife
turning slowly into the butterfly
she was fated to be.

She was back to
being mad
again.

And beautiful.

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Thank you

Thank you.

For never letting me give up,
give in, wallow in despair.

For  looking into my eyes 
with such belief that
all my doubts vanish.

For putting the spring back
in my step.
For making me stand
straighter.

For reminding me,
gently and firmly
everything about myself that
my worries makes me forget.

I must be good,
if you believe in me
so much.

I may not be sure of myself
all the time.
But you certainly are.

Thank you for that.


The Gamble

We don’t do so many things
because we have no control
over their outcomes.

Because have no idea
how the dice will roll,
how the cards will fall,
how the story will end,
we do nothing.

We don’t
write that book.

make that movie,
start that 
book shop,
marry that girl,

take that flight.

We mask our abject terror
with false pride.

Which is rather cowardly
and stupid.

All life is one big gamble.
You are at the table.
The cards are already dealt.

Might as well play.


Cyclical

I miss you like the
phases of moon.

The ache for you
waxes and wanes.

Somedays my need
for you is incandescent like
the full moon night.

Somedays you don’t even
cross my mind once.

But as sure as the North Star
the mind turns back to you,
trapped in this cycle
of missing.

My heart a helpless,
spinning satellite, held firm
in the gravitational pull of your
attraction.



The Call

I dial her twice
before she picks up.

Answering in her
slightly breathless voice.

‘Hey! Sorry. Was making dinner’

‘Want me to call you back?’ I ask.

‘No,no. it’s fine. Talk to me’
she says ‘I’m done.
Rolling a joint now’

‘ I miss you like crazy’ I say.

‘That you will’ she mutters
through teeth clenched over
the spliff ‘all you life.’

The clickety click of her lighter
two thousand kilometres away.

‘ Fuck!’ She grunts.
‘ Lighter’s not working?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, wait a sec!’

I listen to her foot steps,
the scratching of matches,
the suck of a long, deep drag.
a short smoker’s cough.

‘ I miss you like crazy too’
she says finally.

‘ That you will’ I chuckle
‘ all your life!’

‘ Bastard!’

Her sweet, silvery
laughter
in my ear in the
stillness of a
summer night.

Love.


Consider yourself warned

I find you hot.
You find me hot.
Alcohol is quite inflammable.

You still want to
meet for that drink?

Fine.


Losing our minds

Everyday tiny madnesses seize us.

We are consumed by little rages
at the traffic light, in the mall,
at the indifference of our lovers.

We are terrified of our sagging skin,
our waning libidos,
a growing realisation of
our worthlessness.

Everyday new mountains of sensations
stockpile on our skins,
our tongues, our ears, our noses.

Our minds rupturing under the
crushing weight of memories.

We drink, do drugs, have mindless sex,
meditate, pray.
Anything to forget for a while.
Anything to stem the rot
in our heads.

But we can’t keep the white
ants of madness from gnawing away.
We can’t.