Category Archives: poetry

Moons of Mountain Ana: Never…

 *

“So when do I get that drink you owe me?”

“Soon…”

*

The warmth of silence as she threads the eye of a needle.

*

“I like your owl.”

“It’s Minoan.”

*

It would have been a privilege

to spend

the rest of my days

here, forever.

*

Never.

*

It never was

so good,

again… ?

Moons of Mountain Ana: Nestle…

*

Gemma’s warmth as

she links my arm and

the world stops screaming…

*

You are an island dark with life;

A swan-hatched dream, taking flight;

A blue-shot cormorant, nestled in night.

*

Gemma’s warmth when she talks about

the sort of house she wants, her bottom

drawer, and the colour of christmas decorations.

 *

The warmth of a smile

 when I look at her crotch:

 earth / urge / air / care.

  *

O’ for another storm stressed day,

when the sky spoke and

our world yielded… to rain.

 *

‘I could have run much faster.’

‘You should have been here over Christmas.’

*

Of all the things

I’ll never get chance to do…

Moons of Mountain Ana: Vamp…

*

Becky is beautiful

but kind and cruel,

in turns.

 *

Her eyes flash when I call her a vamp,

and when I bad mouth her boyfriend.

 “You make me laugh,” she says, “can I kill you?”

 *

She has the hair of a teenage friend,

the eyes of an old love, the profile and

features of a desirable aunt, the body of

the goddess Parvati, and a smile like paradise.

*

Her mischief resembles that of a childhood adversary.

 “I’m going to turn you into an ass,” she smiles.

*

 Her hoot face is reserved for her most cunning lies,

 “I thought I’d see you there,” yet she still

succeeds in soothing the situation.

*

 ‘Does she really sleep with him?’

*

“I’m sorry about your Grandad,”

she says, like Mum at such times.

*

Warmth floods the room…

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Rituals..

*

Regardless of content, our most intense moments have a habit of assuming ritual clarity.

Together, the figures our characters cut are colourful, and bright, and amusing;

the wheel-spinning white car which your mother read about in my story, or Roma’s amber earrings, Louise and Paula, uncharacteristically, dressed in black.

*

Gemma,

who plays football,

and for whom love… is too painful?

*

Did I really say that?

She wants to travel, or that?

‘Me too! ’/ ‘that’s how I drink’/ ‘I do.

*

If only it,

and you,

and I

were true!

*

Even Sandra

mimicking my mudra,

and Mimi’s mint.

Moons of Mountain Ana: Laburnum…

*

With almost perfect symmetry little Josh

wants to take some flowers back to Mum.

*

 He plucks from the two Laburnum

grown together over a garden gate;

harmonious estate,

or the strain of embrace,

stretching… to cleave ?

The scent from the cups is intoxicating,

and yellow… Becky’s colour…

 *

O’ my tyger tree,

 your blossom

 will spread that smile

over lips which profess to disdain flowers.

 *

…On the way back Josh has an idea: he wants to visit his Dad.

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Sulk…

*

Becky’s sulk face is adamant with indignation.

If she only knew how perilous it is to neglect the young.

*

…Our roles are reversed for the tale

of mum and dad and a kitchen knife,

which Fiona tells in sobs on the stairway.

 *

Something I said has recalled her

feather streaked cheeks of pain.

 *

She laughs

and we go on up

to talk about

a tennis ball

turned inside out…

 *

Becky speaks quietly

but her quiet voice banishes

distance like a shout,

“Josh, come back inside.”

 *

Is this redemption, or merely the wisdom

of being old enough to know better?

Pieces of Nietzsche…

centaur f 2

*

ON PHILOSOPHY

It is clear that every ‘great philosophy’ is, no more and no less than, the confession of its author.

To explain how a philosophy’s highest flung claims have been derived, therefore,

we need only ask, ‘what really makes its author tick?’

The desire to know, is not, then, the Mother of Philosophy.

For, look, here one desire, and now there, another, has put knowledge

to use as a means to, shamelessly, further its own ends…

The fundamental desires of Man have always been ‘philosophers’.

And each of them is only too happy to present itself

as the be all and end all of existence!

As master of the others.

All Man’s desires are tyrannical.

And for the philosopher, everything is personal.

His ideas, inevitably, bear testimony to the hierarchy of his secret desires.

*

Friedrich Nietzsche, philosophical and psychological genius of the nineteenth century, in his book, ‘Beyond Good and Evil’, presaged the breakdown of the Western Aristocratic ruling elite and the irresistible forces that led to two catastrophic world wars. This new poetic interpretation of his master work teases out still relevant lines of thought for the reappraisal of our rapidly disintegrating current world order.

The question of value goes to the heart of who we are, what we are and why we think we are here… A tendency to make certain assumptions about our environment appears to be intrinsic to our nature, yet the meaningful existence we crave can only ever be granted by a ‘higher power’ which we now seem loathe to recognise outside of ourselves… We have always looked to those best qualified to answer our most fervent questions but what if they too have fallen foul of the ‘Auction-House of Things’… And what of the Beyond?

Pieces of Nietzsche: A Thinker’s Bias

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