Turquoise Monster

A hat
Simply a hat
That is all
A hat…
Of explorers
Adventurers
Champions
The good guys
The bad guys
The lost
And the found
With it who
Will you be
Today?

Streaks of colour building the image – a memory
Of shadow and light, time skitters back on itself
And I am lost once more… in the desert
Dark hills on the horizon and grit in my eyes
There are clouds scudding but no respite from a Thunder Sun
My head is already splitting, tongue swollen, lips cracked…
peeling
A smell of decay – ripe, fresh, rank, bitter and sweet
Sickly rancour or a carcass swarming with flies
A moment when I almost did not survive – but I did
And now the desert haunts the minds eye
A dreamscape I can never leave – the land claimed me
Streaks of streak of streaks… time and sand.

They will take us back through rose tinted history
Ignoring the distortion of the lens
Sugar coats are decaying minds
Media hyped the lies to tsunami
A tidal wave to wash civilisation away
Or at least the society bit of it anyway
And sooner or later the blood will flow
All roads of hatred run their course
But what will the damage be?
Remember the camps?

Lines, angles, curves
Luminescing in the dark
Splitting the white light into froth
Rainbow bubbles fill the room
Amalgamate, collect, consume
Spheres colliding, membranes merging
Stretching, morphing – fission
thin…
brittle deformation
CREATION of…
The void
The engineer waits perceiving…
thinking…
Hesitating and writes…
The WORD.

He wore white robes
They matched his hair
And shone with the brilliance
A radiant sun
He pulled me close
To bless
To Whisper
My blood on his fingers
Marring purity
We both knew he would kill me
– how could he not?
Secrets and oaths bound
Better I were a deamon
Even though I was not
But I wasn’t sure
Maybe I was?
Just a little
What was evil anyway?
Hot breath and sacred pan
Stains of ages
He wept
I did not
For I knew he loved me
Soon everyone would know

Strip of colour call the sun
Strip of beads and stitch
Macro, micro, fractal and rhythm
Sun strip call the colour

The tree had a skirt
A fine robe of gold
Of fire
It blazed
When the sun rose
It was clear
And misty beams
Allowing radiant halos
The tree had a skirt
It was the finest in all the woods
Sometimes it would gloat
Though not much really

Time stalls
A glance at an old life
A dying way
Colours as graded sepia
The mountains lay
With heads in clouds
And bead work patterns
Crisp and clean
Uncertain and serious
Fathoms deep
On youths that
Now are dust on the air
Stories of wilderness
It was once there
I stare into dark eyes
Across a century
Divide

A bit of daftness – Garlic Grace is part of the Goodness Gang which was a promotional offer done by the coop – we saved up and got all the furry foods but we also took it in turns to make up daft versions of songs for each of them. This is Garlic Grace song to Amazing Grace.

A few years back I launched The Little Book of Spoogy Poetry – I did this twice the first was for the ebook and the second time for the actual physical book.

Here is my daughter reading parts of the collection. The book was initially written for her only and then I added a few more poems when her sister turned up and made it into a proper book.

Mainly sharing for the cute factor!