if
having four perfect lines
to rescue from backbeat time
plumb the plangent present
plain as a rolled oat
on a golden spoon
succulent enough to plant upon the moon
Monday, October 31, 2016
Sarah St Vincent Welch #291 Weereewa
Weereewa water is lake is earth
rainbow cloud shadow and hills
I watch for you
Kerri Shying R # 118 suffocate the knowledge
suffocate
the knowledge
my dog goes out
barking to my nobody
there
I stand
still one hand drying
on a cloth I hear
the night
pinging back the dark
in me
small rain
cold on my arms
see
I point out the cat think
maybe the bogongs
coming north a
little soon
this year
turn and go
next door’s dog
barks
and there’s
me
a monkey
on the porch
alone
Lucy Alexander #62 Spore
Come, dance, the light is fading midnight
you and me, the dophin blue of it all
crisp as moondust or frost or glazing
we can spiral on mitochondrial rhythm
canter across space throwing sequins to the wind
our oxidation slide our twirl of silky mucus
come, dance and we will find space
where there was no space before
on leading, on spread, sporulate
dance into the spotlight, darling
make love where no other love will shine.
Greg McLaren: Wrens, Girrawheen Park, Earlwood
wren flight is measured in blinks
and
stitches understorey here
close together
since what’s near
enough
to forever the call
‘s an abbreviated chirp within
the
banksias’ slow grappling
for
sunlight for anything organic
in
the dirt it’s a gap between
fluoro light flickerings horizon-
glanced
lightning shredded sun
twitches
across mica motes
in
Wolli sandstone we spin
out across the largest dark
30
k a second we hurtle
Kristen de Kline #23 - Dark Dreams
dark dreams
stop making sense
if you don't wake up
if you let the phone keep ringing
dark dreams
stop making sense
when everybody carries a shadow:
blue lights flash,
illuminating the cul-de-sac
littered with wavering FOR SALE signs
grinding downwards
into the earth
you think you hear a van that's loaded with weapons
idling, gently
outside your bedroom window
you don't wake up
you let the phone keep ringing
stop making sense
if you don't wake up
if you let the phone keep ringing
dark dreams
stop making sense
when everybody carries a shadow:
blue lights flash,
illuminating the cul-de-sac
littered with wavering FOR SALE signs
grinding downwards
into the earth
you think you hear a van that's loaded with weapons
idling, gently
outside your bedroom window
you don't wake up
you let the phone keep ringing
Katherine Stuart The ways of things
Stone lifts or shifts
Stream makes its way
Confident, self-assured
As it must
Chrysogonus #77 - night curtains
night curtains
I keep my curtains open
so the moon can keep
watch over me
so the stars can look in on
any frantic heart beats
sweat rolling
out of nightmares
breaking sleep
eyes prised open wide
the sight of these lanterns
hung on a dark sky
these are a source of comfort
pale light showers
through the window
casts out shadows
in a room of my own
I keep my curtains open
so night will keep me company
tirai malam
tiraiku terbuka semalam
agar rembulan selalu dapat
menjaga tidurku
bintang sebagai pengawas
degup jantung tidak teratur
keringat yang meleleh turun
dari datangnya mimpi buruk
perusak kelamnya tidur
mata membelalak lebar
pelita yang terlihat
menggantung di langit
hitam, sumber ketenangan
cahaya pucat mengalir
masuk lewat jendela
mengusir kegelapan
dalam kamarku sendiri
tiraiku selalu terbuka
agar malam dapat menemaniku
I keep my curtains open
so the moon can keep
watch over me
so the stars can look in on
any frantic heart beats
sweat rolling
out of nightmares
breaking sleep
eyes prised open wide
the sight of these lanterns
hung on a dark sky
these are a source of comfort
pale light showers
through the window
casts out shadows
in a room of my own
I keep my curtains open
so night will keep me company
tirai malam
tiraiku terbuka semalam
agar rembulan selalu dapat
menjaga tidurku
bintang sebagai pengawas
degup jantung tidak teratur
keringat yang meleleh turun
dari datangnya mimpi buruk
perusak kelamnya tidur
mata membelalak lebar
pelita yang terlihat
menggantung di langit
hitam, sumber ketenangan
cahaya pucat mengalir
masuk lewat jendela
mengusir kegelapan
dalam kamarku sendiri
tiraiku selalu terbuka
agar malam dapat menemaniku
Kit Kelen #305 - over and over (after Tanikawa Shuntaro)
305
over and over
Lethe-ward!
after Tanikawa Shuntarō
we do these things
again and again
key in the door
turn
knives at the ready
breakfast, lunch
chew
how many times?
a name means that
we've been before
yawn and stretch
undress for bed
little tinkle?
lust is larger
you've dreamt a track
this far till now
like insect
under bark
it sticks – this something
in that same head's crevice
bitch, back bite
bite back
it's the same animal we wolf down
forks and spooning up
and me
in the maw
a kiss for the familiar
are two any breaths the same?
it's not yesterday's sigh
but who will keep the catalogue?
breathe more coal
go faster, faster
take steps and knowing what to do
each step may seem familiar
there is resemblance
siblings show
arpeggio's one chord
no other strings or keys could brighten
journeys end in the earth
ways go on
we sniff at the flower
till the scent is gone
death will be a unique experience
but nothing to remember
Red Cone (LF)#268-concert
concert
lounge suit/cocktail
5.45pm the banquet room drinks
dinner
7.30 pm concert
Wagner
Beethoven
interval drinks
Strauss
dessert and drinks
auction
wonderful conductor
wonderful music
but about
Strauss
drone drift away drama
I am an old rock and roller
Bronwyn Rodden #31 - Journey to Ink
Gothic Wattle,
Chinese Style, wattle and Chinese ink on rice papers.
A dark work for Samhain, a time for night to enclose the
earth, spirits of the dead to mingle with the living, a time of great change.
Of course, in the southern hemisphere it should be a spring celebration at this
time of year, but we are overwhelmed with Halloween imagery, so let’s enjoy the
darkness.
This is also the end of my month on Project 365+1 – many thanks to
Kit for the opportunity to share with other artists and writers.
Mikaela Castledine #304 The Sea
The sea is your pet
bringing dead things
dropping them at your feet
never tiring of
playing fetch
begging at the edges
licking your face
Lizz Murphy - Poem 305: The Turnbull Ban
THE TURNBULL
BAN
Ban the
refugee
refuse you asylum
never let you in never
ever let you in
imprison for three
years block the visa
send you back never
let you in never ever
let you in send the
clear message
send
the signals signal the
people smugglers
imprison the people
block the visa
never
let you in never ever
let you
Let you off
the islands
send you here send
you there block the
visa never let you in
never
ever let you in
majority genuine
leave you in limbo
never let you in
never ever
let you in
block the
vulnerable
block the visa
block your
families
never let you
in
never ever let you
Let that sink
your boat!
Ref:
Conifer, Dan. 2016. 'Manus Island, Nauru refugees to be banned from entering Australia, Malcolm Turnbull says.' ABC News. Online. [Accessed October 31, 2016] URL:
Bronwyn Rodden #30 - Journey to Ink
Ebor Falls, mixed handmade inks on rice
paper and canvas.
A recent work inspired by Ebor Falls, near Dorrigo, using native plant inks from my garden.
Rob Schackne #131 - The Visit
The Visit
One day in July
three men came
in the same suits
they were polite
we need ya to stay
on the other side
I asked them where
the other side was
see that corner well
don’t go there anymore
One day in July
three men came
in the same suits
they were polite
we need ya to stay
on the other side
I asked them where
the other side was
see that corner well
don’t go there anymore
Kristen de Kline #22 - Five blue figures
This one comes out of nowhere,
that's what the guy who wrote it says.
Nobody seemed to know what it means:
"There's five blue figures on a white circle" ...
... something about making arrangements, keeping each other in line.
'82. At parties you hear people saying:
it's based on numerology
five figure settlements
doodles on a note-pad
colour therapy
divorce lawyers
call centres
shrinks
On You Tube you watch the scratched over clip of the Blams:
punk boys
skinny
nervous
young
off-beam
dangling on a knife-edge
'82. Night before dole day, we raid the roach jar, roll-another-number
crank up 'Don't fight it Marsha' on the turntable
sit in the living room in Kilmore Street with the blackened out windows
as if we've gone back to the London Blitz
Does anyone get the lyrics: 'There's five blue figures on a white circle'?
Moira says she knew the chick it was written for, it always made her cry,
it was about her relationship
break
down.
Then the skinhead, who ends up inside for dealing,
can't remember his name,
just the pet rat on the shoulder of his army jacket,
the birth mark stain strangling his neck
like a vicious love bite.
He tells us:
It's written by a punk who wants to write songs about the way we live
getting wasted
smashing cars
but they never go anywhere
so he ends up writing lyrics all about
landscapes
dreams
household appliances
Nobody seems to know what it means.
Five blue figures on a white circle.
This one comes out of nowhere goes nowhere comes out of nowhere.
that's what the guy who wrote it says.
Nobody seemed to know what it means:
"There's five blue figures on a white circle" ...
... something about making arrangements, keeping each other in line.
'82. At parties you hear people saying:
it's based on numerology
five figure settlements
doodles on a note-pad
colour therapy
divorce lawyers
call centres
shrinks
On You Tube you watch the scratched over clip of the Blams:
punk boys
skinny
nervous
young
off-beam
dangling on a knife-edge
'82. Night before dole day, we raid the roach jar, roll-another-number
crank up 'Don't fight it Marsha' on the turntable
sit in the living room in Kilmore Street with the blackened out windows
as if we've gone back to the London Blitz
Does anyone get the lyrics: 'There's five blue figures on a white circle'?
Moira says she knew the chick it was written for, it always made her cry,
it was about her relationship
break
down.
Then the skinhead, who ends up inside for dealing,
can't remember his name,
just the pet rat on the shoulder of his army jacket,
the birth mark stain strangling his neck
like a vicious love bite.
He tells us:
It's written by a punk who wants to write songs about the way we live
getting wasted
smashing cars
but they never go anywhere
so he ends up writing lyrics all about
landscapes
dreams
household appliances
Nobody seems to know what it means.
Five blue figures on a white circle.
This one comes out of nowhere goes nowhere comes out of nowhere.
Béatrice Machet # 271 Something series-6
# 271 Something series-6
Something.
Whirling around and
around and
around till it falls
down to the ground. Drifted
away and dragging its tips. Not superficial this
raking noise. It
penetrates and carves a dance inside what is more
than your body. It echoes the whole
life process through
the flaming colors of Fall trees. Something like
a tongue or better a
shadow of a tongue is
never far even is the
root say the spring
of the fire itself…
Don’t ask
how
to
re-
deem
the
lea-
ves
.
.
.
Quelque chose.
Tourbillonnant et tour et tournicotant
Jusqu’à tomber
par terre. Emporté et traînant ses pointes. Rien de superficiel
ce raclage. Son bruit pénètre et grave dans ce qui est plus
que votre corps. Il résonne de l’entier
processus de vie grâce aux couleurs flamboyantes des arbres d’automne. Quelque
chose
comme une langue ou mieux une ombre de langue n’est
jamais loin elle étant même la racine la source
du feu lui-même…
ne demandez pas
comment
racheter
les
feuil-
les
.
.
.
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