Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Poems II - Zosangliana


The night moves against curtains
to pass my trespasses for judgement
and the insects emerge
to move with the flicker of the filament.
I am alien, uncut and unkind when the night submerges.
I am faithless, fast falling but undying when the city the colour of
kerosene sleeps.
I am at the downs where you take me.

You take me to the end of myself
a measure before the flood on the floodplain,
before vast fields that stretch till they turn into walls of the unseen
where you stand a few paces from the pain
to canopy me from the muted screams of our destruction:
the insects and the kills that we push in to the night
with the shame of the futilely of sought absolution
for the shapes of the night.

I sleep to wake to wait with insects
for you take me to the downs
to put me in your killing jar butterflies.



I have taken all that I have -
hurt, hope and held sentiments coloured by television lust,
to be between these walls that
that separate me from the sounds of Pilate's last dice falling.
Hell is only a heartache away
and heaven in a summer's downpour is falling
down on this world and its nicotine stained sunsets
that lovers share without knowing.
Love me, Love me, you cry
Without knowing why that shade of yellow in the sunset
makes you reach out (only to pluck)
when you don't understand the chemicals that fuel your soul.
There is no beauty,
and no moment still enough to hold it
even with all of heaven raining down on
us like in the movies.
There is no pain
and no denial strong enough to hide the glare of it
even with the thickest sunglasses on
like us in reality.