Thursday, 19 November 1998

I hate him

Nov 1998

i see him quite often sometimes
across the street
he is not so repulsive from there
and sometimes i stop and look
and he looks back

we don't often speak
we have, but the words
typicallly an echo of sneery grunts
for i do not like him
nor he me

i see him up close sometimes
then i am driven almost to hate
his uglyness,
his face a mask of pent up pain and sorrow
finds no pity in me

sometimes it is many months between
our meetings face to face
and almost i do not know him
but those eyes, he can not hide form me
and i always turn and walk away

i've known him a long time
i used to think he was pretty cool
smart, good looking, quick of wit
and even good with girls
i even loved his skill with sounds

but that was long ago
his past crimes have led me to dispise his ways
to hate him to his face
to laugh at his self esteem
for i know better, ah yes i do

i wish that we would never meet again
and death to him seems to me so just
and way way late in coming
i've contemplated
yes, i've thought to take his life

but i am not so good myself
and i have never found the strength of will
or courage
to do this deed so due
so i just wait and hope

i hope it will not be long

Ode to Wild Oscar

Nov 1998

what swelling is this?
this chest that once was shrunken
super-vacuum heart-hole

what sound is this?
a pattern?
a rythem that once, yes, i know that pattern

but is this just another case of chase
and catch and scratch?

do i let my nose lead me?
my mind surely knows where my heart has been
come out?

what feelings are these
simple fear, reluctance
quell, push it down escape escape

run - do not let it happen again
listen to your head it knows

listen to your head
is there anybody there? Coowee?

poor sod
he'll never learn
some poof said it best, well may he rest

Monday, 16 November 1998

מים חיים (maim chaim - water of life)

April 1999

i seek a refuge of the mind 
a haven of the soul 
that place where standing i can rest 
or sit in peace 

there are no easy places 
there seems no hidden parks 
no solace in reason 
no rest from who i am 

but here and there an island 
calls with salted tang of green and lush 
and i am called to stroke 

verdant moist and coolness high 
promise of clean and flowing crystal sounds of light 
that break in splendour on harsh rocks 
made luring, livid - splash of freedom 

where others dwell in soft acceptance 
there i go 
and who will be there i don't know 
enormous clouds make play of my mind 

perhaps you know?