The sponge

I am soft and full of holes,
Preserved by smiles
That host soirees in my belly,
Every once in a while.

Forest fires snuffed out
By the swampy stretch of shallow summers;
By the mountainous intimacy,
And the cold blood pumper.

I am the overzealous draught
Puffing up the wrong trail,
Where Circe’s shrubs grow dull
And Rosemary’s spell tickles your snout.

Their nymph dance clouds the air
And you stare, as the same shade of ash
Stains the ocean and sky.

I smile at your glassy eyed eagle eye –
You are at sea with my oddly set genes.

My two-minute love, I am
The train of thought you couldn’t follow,
The prospect turned to vapour,
Floating up to be a cloud
And raining down to wet your dreams.

Don’t expect me to bloom
Just because it is spring.

You amaze at the flowery insights
Budding off my frivolous tongue,
At the bleeding emotion
Ejaculating from my ripe fat fruits.

There is a pureness and ease
To this elephant happiness.

But the sickness, you see,
Has been breeding for months
And the worms inside are waiting
To rush down your throat and smother you.

As you press your feverish mouth to mine,
It is your weakness that will rot you.

I lie before you, truthful and bare.
Trust me darling, all I really am
Is a few padded memories of childhood,
Waiting like dew to dry up in the sun.

I have soaked up more than any barnacle could bear
So just give me a squeeze, and I’m done.


Photograph of view from Punta di Circe, San Felice al Circeo, Italy

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Special Glasses

And I wear my special glasses
On this fortress by the sea
A broken sax and both of you,
No one sees things like we see!

By the river in Boston
Where the little white boats
Are like stars in the blue,
No one feels like I do.

On the rooftop where we kissed
And made movies of our lives,
All the silly things I miss,
No one knows like you and I.

And I wear my special glasses
When I wonder by myself
Through the fields and through the trees,
As I hide behind these leaves.

On the cliff behind the island,
All alone, while the violence
In the world breaks into waves
And I swirl within its blues.

When my lids are heavy
With departures and arrivals
And I feel the frenzied blood,
As it pulses through the terminals.

And I wear my special glasses
When I think and sip my tea
When I smile at all of you,
Or swim naked in the sea.

And I slide through many faces,
Through the laughter and embraces
I feel colourful and free,
All these eyes, they dance with me.

And I tingle as my skin and mind
Are drenched in eau de glee
I am golden, I am wild,
Warm as honey to these bees.

There is only song and colour,
Silly details make me smile
This confusion is perfection
And it all makes life worthwhile.

And we do not need the music,
We can hum and we can write
I can hear things through my eyes
As I’m gripped in life’s big bite!


Cheers to my friends Meg, Elle and the broken sax.

Post # 11 Ventotene

I

My stomach churns and my brain sways with wine and waves. The sun burns and I feel ridiculously happy. My feet skip gently on the volcanic rock, my body high and moon heavy. My rock, I am a rock! My empty space, my nature – a habitat where the buzzing stops, replaced by cicadas and a clash of deep blue. The mighty cshhh… The world is shut out by the echoing silence. The people are cactuses, blended in mud and rocks. The only colour is blue. Everything is blue, I think I’m turning blue. Maybe if I sit still enough, I’ll fade into this rock. If I sit here long enough the tide will rise and the blue will eat me whole. Maybe it will kill the green and I will be one with this cave, my true colour at last.

II

I can’t put my finger on the people over here. They seem lighthearted, merry and intellectual. Yet I still feel clumsy, heavy and uncoordinated. I remain awkward and I can’t express what I’d like to express. I feel as if their camp of love is too structured in its being unstructured and I can’t find my place in it. I feel embarrassed and awkward at the intimacy, of losing my fears and inhibitions in their midst. As if I have a role to fulfil and I’d be judged a prude if I didn’t live up to expectations. I suppose I just don’t like being a sideline. I do not sparkle here, I’m just a fish in the sea. Here I don’t even serve entertainment purpose. I’d rather be alone maybe, where I can gawk at myself and my thoughts.

III

I thought this year would be a blank slate. I’m not new here, I’m old and consumed. The comments and judgements remain those of my childhood and everyone here is missing a piece. A rather large, constructive piece. Isn’t it ironic that it is easier to communicate with strangers that with loved ones? We see each other through the lens of our history and it is often too hazy to be clear.

IV

Up the gods rock,
To the top of the island
I climb – a lucky guest.
I’m crowned in laurel

And bigger than the sea.
Round and round
The sparkly heavens shove me;
The pitch black

Catches me.
I’m a microbe, a quasar;
A pillow, a knife!
I’m ready, I’m hazy

Your nightmare, your prize.
Have I yet the courage
For the dive –
The big dip.

I’m still green and weary
I shall dry up or slip,
Into death
and oblivion and dread.

Newton is dead.
Why are we still clinging to a flat Earth?
Observe the atoms,
Ride the waves.

It is me I see
In every crook and corner.
It is me who sees,
It is me I see.

I am your Frankenstein
You mighty organiser
You puzzle maker
You forgot to flip the light switch.

You stuck me, colourful
to a monochromatic Earth.
Unrelentingly chasing
Hidden meanings,

Fireflies.