As an avid Mentalist watcher, I know exactly what you’re thinking. About time! And indeed it has been another ginormous gap between blogs. But I’m back (for the millionth time) with some poetry. Maybe listening to Adele has been a little inspiring.

Flee the White City: A Book of Poetry

Here’s a poem. Take it as an offering for not blogging in so long.

Blue Behind Rain

Alone he sat, on the brink of fear,
surrounded by a sea of charcoal and
concrete under a smoke-grey sky
Alone from the world under a smoke-grey sky
Lost to the world under a smoke-grey sky
Troubled for the world under a smoke-grey sky

Quiet he stood, on the edge of depression,
surrounded by a storm of pale and
plastic under a blood-red sky
Quiet to the world under a blood-red sky
Tender to the world under a blood-red sky
Patient for the world under a blood-red sky

Secluded he walked, on the verge of discovery,
surrounded by an ocean of glitter and
gloss under a robins-egg sky
The charcoal and concrete passing him by
The wilting of searching drawing nigh
‘Ere a butterfly chose to fly

Breathless he stood, on the water’s edge,
life just a stone throw out to sea,
surrounded by rivers of charcoal and
concrete under a smoke-grey sky
The butterfly there, alive, right before his eyes
Happily contrasting the grey of the sky
Quietly contradicting the death in the sky
Subtly conflicting with the insipidity in the sky
Perplexingly invisible to the masses walking by
Unseeing eyes heavy under the weight of the lie
Yet there it flew, that lonely butterfly,
the truth quelling the lie

It was the art in a storm
The blue behind rain
The joy in suffering
The beauty in pain

It was spring conquering cold
Relief after a scare
The blind receiving sight
The coward divorcing fear

It was the silence after the clatter
The dawn after the dark
The stream through the desert
The sweet, sweet song of the lark

It was the calm after the fight
The young honouring the old
Truth transcending the lie
Creativity fleeing the mould

It was the sun cresting the horizon
The laugh after the cry
The crescendo of an anthem
The ocean touching the sky

It was the leaper being cleansed
Love waking the dead
Blood covering sin
Poverty being fed

It was deity becoming man
Heaven kissing earth
Hope amidst wickedness
The mysterious virgin birth

But mostly it was peace during confusion
Desperation discarding warning
It was beauty for ashes
And joy in the morning

There’s cursing and lying, it’s a nonsensical playground harbouring the foul fragrance of bitterness
There are fingers and toes performing devastating woes under the influence of derrogatory undertones
Where are the hearts inside these bitter shells
The hearts and shells are breaking against the rocks tonight
Fossils line the shore, can’t you see we are finite beings

Do we know, and do we care that we don’t know
The gaze of the nation is in love with the quick, and the dead it brings to the compassionate ones’ very doorsteps
Or were they all too busy watching the passing lanes, the mirrors and the time-savers to care
Our impatience has temporarily been abated, while our sneakers bear marks of stress and struggle, striving for hope, a goal, a dissatisfied distraction

From somewhere an unspeakable urge comes to run out of this concrete maze
There is someone here who can show us the way, believe me when I say
They think he is weak, a feeble man, giving in to imagery and magic again

Is it his loss of blood that confuses the logical mindset prevalent to us all?

Stop blaming the cure for disease and crimes stimulated first by gunpowder and steel and tactless foolishness disguised as wisdom so brittle
Biting the hand that feeds and placing more fast food into greedy hands, to give the strong man a chance to cheat life just one more time
There’s killing, there’s laughing, there’s crying and then there’s living
Why should I detest the miracle, the living love, the fine form of simply being without hate
Remove hatred’s thorn, remove that bitter barb, death’s sting stolen by that thief in the night

Boredom has the heart in a headlock and happiness is baring its diseased fangs again
It comes for a minute or an hour or so before evaporating into sulfuric dust flakes
But raise your head and raise mine with your words to save the nations raging
Once more putting actions to this love we have heard of and hold so dear to our hearts

Let’s drink together and offer this to everyone and all men: life, free as a fair-headed stallion

We’ll never thirst again

The Astronaut

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend of nothing, the reputation of no one
Not that it matters out here, anyway
Thoughts come in drips and splashes; I
can feel something, some kind of significant
presence, thick in the air

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend or foe, the floating turquoise and jade sphere, impeding
my precarious emotions like a monster
Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend, I look down and spy you there on that
insignificant ball, spinning lonesome like a star in the night
sky, your thoughts and intents a pinprick on the grand plan

I can’t see the sparkle of whitewash, or hear the
ambience of crickets chirping, or smell
the exotic, cultural nuances of the oriental markets, or taste
the exquisite cuisine at my favourite restaurant
It all seems so superfluous up here, anyway

Spinning out in isolation, my closest friend
and nearest companion the stillness in this pale, colourless cabin
Filled with awe, because I could trace this as the most
defining moment in my life
I’ve heard talk of a God who made the world in my
sojourns back on the surface of that distant place
Never would I have believed He was true till
now, seeing home so small, so fragile, so distant
I can put my finger to my eye and blot
it from ever breathing

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend, I’m lost in the deepest resonances of thought,
my soul is stilled
Every moment sees me feeling smaller and
smaller, because I know someone sees
and He loves
How He loves
those
little
tiny
people

It was like trying to find
a haystack inside a needle
I stretched a strand of string
to the moon
and back a dozen times

It was like trying to find
a key inside a locked chest
I sailed to the ends
of the earth
and back a dozen times

It was like trying to find
hay and stubble inside gold
I ran to the end
of the rainbow
and back a dozen times

It was like trying to watch
the sun set in the dawn
I swam to the depths
of the sea
and back a dozen times

It was like trying to pour
fire over water
So your love
could not be measured

Its mysterious end
could not be found

Across a conceited valley
Cowering below a brooding sky
Aspirations of ultimate futility
leave the lethargic occupied, fleetingly fulfilled
Shards of contempt—severing, slicing, scourging—
adorn the horizon
Looking, watching, searching for a sign—
their cue to clutch and squeeze and tear
life from the lifeless, render
death to the smouldering reed, deploy
fear to the smoking flax, and doubt
to the wearisome traveller

I look across the valley [and]
I see fear: impish and hardened hearts;
spineless in the face of the gathering gloom
Once these were my warrior band, my sword-brothers
Now hearts face vice-gripped
ultimatums and impassable dilemmas;
abandonment is written in their eyes
They are looking to you and
the cry of their mouths is heart-wrenching bitterness,
their words spin like razors to heaven
on wings of disappointment

But you would say,
“Oh! Do not grow weary, young youth;
do not tire of doing well
Doubt comes, doubt goes; Yes! Even to the disbelieving
Spread your arms, pray your soul be
emboldened to the cliff; take the fall
Past the fearful, the cynical, the tired
A gorge of grace;
an opening of hope, for yes, there is always
hope
I ask but two things: Snatch up your blade; chase the light of life”

A salt-white sky,
akin to conquest and victory
Delighting in life itself, a pleasure to the senses
The leap: the hardest plunge to take,
the longest way down
Yet now I walk with you, together with you
always with you; agony switches places with awe
tired-eyes with renewed vigour
The stars, they cry your name
The waters sing your song
The rocks proclaim your wonder
The fields testify of your truth
The streams mirror your laughter

The others? I weep for their indifference
Their fear, misplaced for passivity,
tearing them away from the cliff-face
My soul aches in desperation:
why will you not show yourself to them?

But You would say,
“My evidence precedes me; my handiwork
is clear to the searching heart
They have all been given the same
choice; and that, my beloved,
is not your choice to make.”

Ever present yet your presence I crave
Author or authority, I guess perception decides
Yet you relish in drowning perception in the sea of revelation
Falling into place by chance
Or consequence of design
You found my hiding place
I guess a stone fortress is hard to disguise
Did I build this or was that perception’s handiwork

The author you are
The author you remain
Linguistic completeness you weave
It’s just you and I

The game is over, yet still I hide
Your words cut my lifeline in turn revealing another
There’s nothing here but you (and I)
See the vision now
You pen my life into existence
I’m drawing blanks on the colours
But my faith cries, lead us on

The author you are
The author you remain
Linguistic completeness you weave
It’s just you and I

Clutter this clarity? Why would I?
Yet even now perception offers the past
You don’t demand
You don’t expect
You simply are
The hardest climb should not be into your arms

Still,

The author you are
The author you remain
Linguistic completeness you weave
It’s just you and I