FROST BLOSSOM

featured in the poetry forum July 11, 2021  :: 1 comment

In the field
There are crops

Maize
Barley
Corn

While in the city
There are whispers

Old tales
Of new beasts

Given flight
By their shadow

I bring my breath back

To the food
To the breeze

This April brought frost
And cherry blossom

editors note:

Reap riot and ruin or bring back breeze. – mh clay

KYOTO

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2021  :: 0 comments

I walk with no target
No aim and no gun

For what I see here
Will always be here

All of the
Alleged incidents
and nights without sleep –

They are my lighter
My papers
My rolled cigarette

The rumours of iniquity
The bad reputation

They may burn
But they do not kill
The repeating regret
The compounded trauma
This life after life

Whatever that means

I do not know

I never had a track
I never had a path
I do not lace my dreams
With those things

For once
Believe me

It will never change

The mind and its machinery
The trick of the light

I stare into darkness
And see only stars

editors note:

After the start, comes the finish; whatever the path between. Check out those stars! – mh clay

A VIEW CONCRETE

featured in the poetry forum September 5, 2020  :: 0 comments

I press the bell
Check out my reflection
And throw the key upon reception

It’s now time
To forget about the time
To strip myself of clothes
And to wreath these bones
In plumes of opiated smoke
And bathe them in the cheapest whiskey

It’s time to drain another glass
To stroke the disconnection wider
To lie back upon the unmade bed
And watch the door open

Of course she doesn’t need to knock
How many times
Have we been here before?

My full pair of parting lips
My paid for company

“Come here, darling…”

Come join me in this loneliness
Come watch it bend and buck

See our shadows join and writhe now
Across the heavy breathing walls

“So big…”
This lie we pay to procreate

“So hard…’
These low-lit nights
We burn away
With pornographic repetition

“Baby…”
The money is all there
No more need
To keep up the act or pretense

“Tomorrow?”
“Maybe…”

But for now – I think not
As the door closes on her figure

Stood alone
Naked fried
I think only of the dawn

As it comes in – creeping uninvited
Through the cracks
In the pale-skinned curtains

Its too loud cars and turned up rays
Lay bare
The alcoholic sweat and blackened sheets
Of this tin foil mind

Yes
The outside world may be waking now
But I am still inside a dream

A concrete view
A red-eyed reflection

Neither here nor there

editors note:

Alone, with or without company. Sheltered in place, but never from self. – mh clay

Les Papillons Noirs

September 1, 2020  :: 0 comments

‘ …La nuit, tous les chagrins se grisent; de tout son cœur on aimerait, que disparaissent à jamais, les papillons noirs, les papillons noirs, les papillons noirs…’ From inside his black pea-coat, Jacques took out his phone and looked at its cracked screen. Why he hadn’t changed the ring tone, he had no idea. It had been over seven years …

NATURE FLOWERS

featured in the poetry forum June 9, 2020  :: 0 comments

It’s raining today
And yesterday was fine

The Masters
Know the way of heaven

The green jade melody

Strung between moments
Flushed with the dawn

The sun comes and the stars go
That is the way of things

To look out of my window
To burn paper with the doubt

That is the dew of clouds I lead

Back through midnight
Back through worlds

The rain falls harder on the morning pass

I will not proceed

editors note:

When moving is not being, and being is not moving. (J H says, This poem is “very much in line with a digital pamphlet of poetry I have made available for free through my own page here.” Check it out!) – mh clay

Standing Here

April 4, 2020  :: 0 comments

Jack didn’t know why, but over the last year he’d been thinking about that day a lot. It wasn’t a day that had been out of the ordinary. And it wasn’t a day that he could recall that he’d really thought about for more than thirty years. But there it was anyway. Just as it had been for the last …

SANS FRONTIÈRES

featured in the poetry forum March 4, 2020  :: 0 comments

I do not recognise
My city
I do not recognise
My country

Not because
I do not have one
But because I have too many

Worldwide
But isolated
I do not have the poles
Or the canvas
To build my own tent
Only a bag

To roll up
To move on
To flee

This dead city of mind
This barren country of mind
This long tall history of mind

With its flags
And its books
And their songs
And their words

Which can only fill holes
In its ash ridden borders
And not the vast depths
Of its fathomless heart

Still alive
And yet distant
Like the faintest beat of its waves

Still here –
In this blown speck of dust
Caught in the bright rays
Of its piercing light

editors note:

We’re all refugees on this rock. – mh clay

Scratched

December 10, 2019  :: 0 comments

“Brother, calm down. They will be here. Twenty more minutes, OK?” I don’t want to hear that. I really don’t. I have already been standing here in this two-bit DVD store for over half-an-hour. I don’t need it then. I need it now. “First, I fuck you, then my friend fuck you, OK?” And, no, I don’t want to hear …

DRINK TEA

featured in the poetry forum September 16, 2019  :: 0 comments

A savage beating
With a monkey wrench
A spine smashed in two
By a scaffold pole
And a mob waiting outside
All of them armed
With sticks bats and knives

Last night I dreamt
Of all of these things
And many more besides

But this morning
When I awoke
I found that nearly
Eight years had passed

Now –
I don’t want revenge
And I don’t have
A magic double-edged sword

All I want
Is to stop this mind thinking
That it understands
And from willing this fool
To do what its
Brief blossoms want

To eat this fresh peach
And to keep on eating it
Only

Until its shape
And its colour
Its skin and its taste
Become no more than a peach
And still no peach at all

Ha!

That’s all any fool dreams

editors note:

The beating and the balm, a fool’s dream. – mh clay

STRATH BLAZE

featured in the poetry forum June 22, 2019  :: 0 comments

A small bag
A torch
A tin box and pipe

These are the tools

To present my past
To rescind the guilt
To connect to the source
Of what I am not

Some call it magic
An other
Nature

But names are misplaced
On this false print of paths
And easily pierced
By their own savage thorns

So
Forget about this
And leave behind that

Crossing the bridge
Flies buzz on the burn

Kill the mind child
Return this earth to the dust

editors note:

The magic we make, in time, unmakes us. Naturally! – mh clay