Saturday, 3 March 2012

Arak Bali

a boil on my arse
and jet-lagged
I, a drunkard who loves poetry by chance,
was dropped by Garuda on the island of Bali

“hello, mister, taxi! taxi!”
“sorry, mate, I think I’ll just take a bemo, okay”
thanks anyway for my fucked up identity!

on the bemo, wet with sweat
the smell of clove cigarettes and incense
took me to Legian

Bali, land of the dancing monkeys
Here I come!

between postcards and half-naked tourists
my unwashed hair got entangled
on the shelves of the road-side souvenir shops

under the Balinese sun
I drank alone
only the lists of foreign currencies
and skinny flea-infested mangy dogs
as companies walking down
the labyrinth of Kuta-Legian alleys’ hangover

Bali, the land where the gods play chess
with men
please accept this offering of poem
though Miles and Bob Marley
are not here today
the gamelan of rental motorbikes on the streets
will do for the music of the ceremony

and then we will go
and watch your sunset together!

legian, january 1997

kinda blue

lust sits on my tongue
like a communion wafer
like a fluttering butterfly
like a holy sentence

I found myself staring
at the full moon
like a child naked at birth
wet with alcohol and semen

I don't want to say this
I don't want to hurt you

I have known you forever
like a tear hanging suspended
from a blue eyelash
like a chinese junk sailing the ocean
then sinking...

today when we were talking
I watched your fingernails
and I wanted to kiss you
I wanted to feel like Adam
in the Garden with the taste of wet hair
fresh in his mouth

I wanted to love you

I want to love you

the flaws of my beloved
are beautiful
as blue as the grass
where I saw you lying naked
for the very first time
in that Garden of Beginnings

I walked through the crowded streets
of the city and I was haunted
by the smoky bars
the unfriendly churches of
the after-dusk pilgrims
and I couldn't find you

all that remains is the echo
of the blue tobacco smoke
above the deep blue sheets
of my tidy bed

I know I've lost you

Thursday, 13 May 2010

Blues for Allah 1

the sky's so blue the kids're playing
then the sea rose and ate up everything –

Blues for Allah 2

the lonely moon and
the silent night are what the
tsunami left behind

Blues for Allah 3


church bell
the city walls laugh at it


a garden of flowers –
you and the butterfly
amongst them


such boredom –
the goldfish swimming
measuring the aquarium

the persistence of memory

a leaf falls under the moonlight
an owl awakes when it touches the wet earth
I try not to think of you when
a leaf falls under the moonlight

a bamboo flute shrills in the midnight hour
a cicada awakes when it touches the wet rock
I close my eyes and try not to remember when
a bamboo flute shrills in the midnight hour

why do you always come in the middle of after-midnight dreams
o shadows of a persistent memory?
like a mirror held up to a mirror
you have imprisoned me in the clearness of your deceiving truth
the flatness of your colourless familiarity

in the mist of sunless mornings
you leave me crying my sinful cries
you have cursed me with the curse of a baby born dead

I have walked in the land of the banished angels
I have seen the vision of the smiling little children
but still in the middle of after-midnight dreams
when you come in the clearness of your cursed familiarity
you leave me crying my sinful cries

o shadows of a persistent memory

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