Beauty

Ocean Eyes

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With your tongue in my mouth
you try to tease out
the secret of my silence,

but I keep it hidden
                    like
a garden
        full of dead
                    & dying
flowers.

With your tongue in your mouth
you make sounds
that unfold my rib cage, take
each strange organ
in your hands &
show me that
bones need not be broken
                        to be open.
 
                  Somehow,
in the blue reflection of your ocean
eyes, the poison in these organs
rise like vapour to the sky;

somehow,
        that ocean brings me back to life.

So let me in
            & see
if I will sink

            or swim.

The City #2

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The City street-lamps conspire to hide,
the cold shimmer of starlight from our eyes,

the stars we walk beneath but cannot see,
thinking only of what will never be.

The City is teeming with ice-
cream peddlers, vintage shops &
        chain stores;
           
                    the City
pours water warm as blood upon us
        & we just shrug;

the City
        defies Gaia
& we ignore her protestation.

The City is killing us

& we allow it to happen.

I want to burn it down to the fucking ground.

So much more…

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Such repeated Pyrrhic victories it took
for you to see

that the one you used to love, the words
you once could trust,

are gone:
 
           now there’s no one.

But
by some undeserved serendipity
a new dream emerges.

& though we’re only two mammals
who desire the warmth of the other,

we’re also so much more.

The City #1

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Lost in the pressure of the Simulacra,
the strange among strangers
faces
of new buildings
                seeming
threatening,

weird & eerie.

Yet all the rest – or so
                        it seems –
of the animals in the City
are so at ease,
               but to me
the noise,
the fumes & traffic, tragic
neglected people forced to sleep
on the streets – “Sorry,
don’t have any change” –
& the oppressive cranes
declaring the domination
                                of Capital;

the hive-mind
blind to the mantic fury of
                            the lost
history buried beneath the streets
consume me.

The City disgusts me.

Multitudes stand in my mind*

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Behind the eyes,
                where multitudes abide,
a mind decides to obey strange instructions:

                thoughts
bloom like fruit & fall, one
by one;
                    some
return to the earth & become new life
while others, for reasons unknown,
decay slowly
& grow into nothing but waste;

warped
        their shape & sound contort
as they fall
onto a dark forest floor &
        grow thorns:

will beauty persist
when feelings no longer exist?

If I say you have misunderstood me
will you say you know what I mean?

& why write a poem

                    no one will read?

*Credo – Robinson Jeffers