Friday, August 18, 2017

Kristen de Kline #130 Medley (5)

With thanks to the Velvets & Nico (again)

I
there are
problems in these times
light fittings   train tracks
talked down-from-up-off
but none of them are mine
she's sacked the legal team
life's a flash
threatened to slit my throat
and then you're ash

there are
problems in these times
good guns   bad guns
but   honey
none of them
are mine

II
a bird flies around in a cellar
the lawless one offers up a kiss
a bottled heart in a glass jar, quivers
day is as blue as the sky here
the sky is as blue as the ...

... they wear my teeth in their hands
it does my head in
shine the knives and forks for the table
pretend to be asleep
play dead   you won't
see stars     but read books by torchlight
drink wine   first thing
reach up     dig down
mess up the night   your hair
lay down
at first light

III
but   none   of   them   are   mine










Kristen de Kline #129 Being bad's better

My boy on Fable II:

I legit married a prostitute
it's like comedy and stuff
it's funny
like you're a hero
I own every building in the world
it's Medieval and industrial like Victorian Britain
you've got all the powers
you can choose to be good or evil
or corrupt or pure
I'm the ghoul
you get evil eyes and horns
if you reach the max amount of good and pure
you get a little halo above your head
it's cool
I've basically got every weapon
stop bloody attacking me
I'm sick of this shit
I'm trying to sacrifice you to the shadows
stop running away
I'm the most corrupt and degenerate you can be
my dog's black with red eyes
being bad's better


Kerri Shying R # 305 - Three Winter Melons


Three Winter Melons

full and hard  and hairy as my face
on steroids  last time I got the eye pain
they were a good score   now the warm winds
bustle out the cold  a month ahead of time

three green mysteries  play pick-a-box
for soup  or curry  fry me fry me   choices
about food  you don’t expect 
they do your head in     grace
in the car park of the Star Hall  where

the volunteers meet us  halt us  lame us
failed in vision    the first and third Friday
in the month  rice tangelos winter melon
the largest sack of spuds    butter yellow squash
the pleasure
 planning tea

Kit Kelen #594 - a place in the sun


594
a place in the sun

as simple as that

the football facts
of our obscurity –
a television roar

I went back to rescue a line
but it was too far in the dream
to catch

sky is as blue as day here

it’s a little business
going broke like this

follow where a leaf will fall
see the bird beside itself
see feathers come to a tail

a place in the sun
but which?
so many shine!

I too am frenzied for the light
hear the boards creak
but ghosts won’t come

I wanted to be pictured
the fable of prowess
never caught a shadow cast
but it was steel sprung industry
captained by a call

some myth all made up
like gods to go

smug swagger
the wind gets into my head
that’s knowing

here where no one will notice
night and what can be done for us

it’s you’re the one who’ll tell
when the time is come

you won’t see stars
without a dizzy
in at least the dark

to work in silence
for obscurity
that’s how we’ll
be blessed

Stuart Rawlinson #72 - Racination

you've got to start
somewhere
   [go anywhere
      (via nowhere)]
reach up
dig down

fix the rig
to the wet earth
slow viscous
   (embrace of dirt)
roots and tubers
s p r e a d and  s    w    e    l    l
in no particular
direction, no

set route
   it's long past time
to put
        down

Thursday, August 17, 2017

She remembers # 113 Claine Keily

She remembers a time
when after school
she would ride a wild pony
help break it in bareback
for the people living just
outside the valley


Then she would help her mother
wash vegetables
and shine the knives
and forks for the table


She remembers how
after hours of homework
she would pretend to be asleep
by seven
when her parents
entered the bedroom
but afterwards would read secretly
under the covers
by torchlight
far into the night
and this is the person
she now dreams to become

Kerri Shying R # 304 - Gone in a flash

Gone in a flash

smart enough   to be still
a bird in the hand

worth more than the salt
you cook the damn thing with

playing dead    a virtue known
to every  thing    with beating heart

the phht  the moment of the off
 release  how bright all colour

sweet the air    for that one second 
 now do not    thunk     

into a tree 
we don’t have

one more bird
gone spare

Kit Kelen #593 - aubade


593
aubade

is there something
first thing to say
a day like this demands?

the world comes in the windows
and the radio tells time

is there a first word?
(let last alone)
a kookaburra says so

so many days
ahead of myself

yet I can confirm the forecast

take a shine off the sky
as sun and rain
in turns deliver

you think in quick quip terms here

have to learn to balance, breathe

and sometimes catch myself at home
largely lounging with a view

everywhere the tasks present

to be fed is for the asking

lie in bed
it’s all ahead

is there a first word there?

much better to offer up a kiss
it hasn’t far to go

Stuart Rawlinson #71 - Theanine Complex

theanine complexes
neutralising
caffeine bursts
gamma radiation
from unsettled pulsars
we can recalibrate
to the unfixed metric
lines to waves
corners to arcs
in the slow
upwards trajectory
of the morning's
shallow parabola

Rob Schackne #435 - The High Road

The High Road

The high road
down valley
a medley
of conflict
train tracks
life plans
good guns
bad guns
leave me
out of it
load kindness
let love work
forget the heart
in a jar the bird
flies around
in a cellar


Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Kristen de Kline #128 Medley (4)

I
forget about your heart in the jar 
no rest for the wicked

with it's rhythmic, bottled beats
forget about those dark nights 

of the soul: breathing carpet under the bed
scrunched up tissues, random tablets, scribbled

lines   nobody knows where the hell I am  
am I looking at the stars? are they shining for me?

II
we've been talked down off light fittings
   and in the end
talked up off train tracks
   what matters most
train tracks, light fittings
   kindness - how did that squirm it's way
into the equation

III
wrangled, tangled:
wrestled with insomniac 
possums   red 
dictionaries   black hole 
suns   men with hollow 
bones   blue stars 
like little fish, floundering
all   of   us
noneofus

IV
today the Gods they   smile

steal all your best lines
thrash out another medley
take a shit load of codeine 

I won't write the poem about courthouses and
cops guns and grievances today   
tonight there is kindness   
a lawless poet texts: don't be a stranger  
my boy calls out from upstairs: love you Mum, have a good sleep,
turn off the heating     tonight   something
twists, dances,
turns

the Gods they    smile     tonight




    


Kerri Shying R # 303 - From the beaks of birds ( for Kit)


From the Beaks of Birds

this bird named me
 does a lot then slopes about the porch
 talking to the dog  
but saying it in bird 
it sounds much sweeter   cheeps and chirrups

that bird named you
 rushing  glances  on the way
 for freedom   sounds the same
 as water in a riverbed
in spring  not summer clearly

the birds sit talking  just above
our hair  each morning  speak
the real meaning of the earth
out loud   the making of the day
at dawn   unmade again
by the falling of the light

we say what bird are you
and write it down 

each one of us
repeating it
in vain

Kit Kelen #592 - hazard reduction



592
hazard reduction
(this winter unnaturally warm)

live in the smoke
not the big one

still breathless with it
blue woke to

a bird breathes through
will you make out wings?

the rising
can it curlicue?

it’s an all around thing
edge of the breeze
and just where rain lets

smoke is the ghost
of great heights laid
it stands where you
won’t see

something was wooden once
lighter than laughter

the green
now grey
now gone

James Walton #68 Flyingantseason

Flyingantseason

sootydandruff
theirwingsflaky

avant- garde pastry

an
   ebony
      hand
        cuffing
an ear

chickens scurry
holding pantaloons high

speaking bounty
pecking at wood

sewing machines
of adrenaline

Rob Schackne #434 - "No rest for the wicked"


No rest for the wicked
who must pay back all
they took from the righteous

one world prepares
for the reckoning
not the one I belong to

the lawless will lead
the bastards to the block
the last sound they know

leave my mind out of it
don't look my way at all
not much mercy here

I won't write the poem
of guns & grievances tonight
today there was kindness


Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Kristen de Kline #127 Medley (3)

I
you didn't really think,  just got in the getaway 
car and drove, foot to the floor, hit the highway to

heaven - no looking back   it was the prints you left on the
steering wheel that the cops dusted off while the vindictive

ex sharpened the Fury knives   just as well the legal fraternity
had heard of the words: 'pro bono'   you jingled a few $2 coins

but it was hardly the down-payment they were seeking, the
solicitor sighed, paid the tab for your Florentine and espresso

said,  jesus h christ, not another bloody grand theft auto charge 
what were you thinking

II
fleeing - there are many incarnations not all at the same time   or
speed   more staggered, broken up like a plateau   interrupted

by pit stops   stop   start   stop   start  where you re-fuel moonlessly:
"gas, food, lodgings", trailer trash, converge with the lawless bum a

smoko from the young man in pinstripes who saunters past, 
briefcase adorned with slick golden fasteners, today's Australian

nestling in his armpit, the sweat-soaked face of Malcolm Turnbull scrunched
up tightly, Barnaby Joyce in the background, a coffee cup stain circles his face

III
past lives reduced to dust   waves washed up and down     and 
lost on a sea that's rarely tossed,   dredging up the dead

when we don't want  to hear their chattering in the margins
their wailing falling off the page like a stray, rogue planet

scattering ghostly shadows across the median strip   casting a
spotlight on a bag of nails waiting   at the side of the road  

IV
present tense now: the moon slips off the page   
you catch a thousand lotus flowers
in the palm of your hand
clouds open and close

the waves draw in the living
dredges in the bodies you don't 
want
to 
know 

you take your heart out of the jar
stop bottling the beats   start dancing
through the fire   air frail air
trace a journey to another house city
State postcode
another     another
you take your heart out of the jar
start to walk   breathe   talk
thrash out another poem for the blog
love   don't   love   
fall in out
of bed   of everything
that's all that matters
at the end of the day
how well you land
on the floor 









Kerri Shying R # 302 - Fissure


Fissure

I tore the thin skin
of my own daintiness

my scream penetrated
all the rooms  stopping time

so for a moment   there was no breath
this disease I    would prefer

a blow   to think that water coursing is
causal of the split

inside    all my self is shriven
ghosts are given up

to the effort of the next day  where
the tender kiss of paw paw

sudocrème trails   whisps of
early motherhood where

 late senescence walks  
 fetch me doughnuts please   

 now seat me   
 find my throne
 

Stuart Rawlinson #70 - Intracaffeine

coffee is the worst
creeping over
the horizon
of your wits

snatching the baby
by the neck and
shaking the tether
loose from the last
anchor of calm

you can almost hear
the electric current
liquid angst along
capillary tracks
alternating and direct

decrepit chambers
murmur

Kit Kelen #591 - home and away



591
home and away

it’s like this
here you go
and there you are
all clichés other way around

travelling
you’ll eat dogs and rats
take wooden nickels

you’ll know where to be
a month ahead or back
it’s written in the tickets
it’s tracked along a map

how a sun shone to me
it’s as if lived how wistful
every way I went
and never found the voice

packing unpacking
a way through security
what curious metal in me
things never guessed

but you’re the hunter
garb limited to tell
bring back the pictures
haul the great sack

mainly I watched movies on the plane
the sorrier for yourself
less sympathy you get
and anyway
not here to receive

keep posting
how you were a master thief
and dipped in the kaleidoscope
drove the nutella truck
all over Africa

it’s the one lie
in which I’m pictured
one lie to drive us on

well to begin
I was nobody there
but a bent head swells out of its hat
a title earned gives bears barnacles
and you sit to fill out form, pay bill

every aircraft’s subtly different
now each town’s the same

politics!
I knew I could never return
knew there was no safe where-to-be
it’s humans fuck up democracy

work’s the thing gets up your nose

so time came panting up to me
and I rubbed time’s chest
it rolled around and made to fetch
turned over again for more
might it have turned on me
bore teeth?

returning is to master time
to be where the world groaned once

there’s a little bird right now taps on my window
just mid-poem, yellow breast
one’s tempted to think it won’t know what it’s doing

the date dissolves where hours take up
then you are among the uncounted
you’ve become the unannounced

and study in reflections
like the pond is landed
weeds flower to point

something might be snake draped
but no risk it’s your dinner

and so now lost to rooms and books
and stanzas
and in lines like this

grow to be anonymous
then there’s no one to cut down

so giants hurl their boulders
you can still smell the dust
but you’re away to sea
that’s how you live forever

it’s always nice to sneak off the map
wonders here are what you make

now I am no one here at home
lighter and lighter I float

and here’s a goodnight kiss
that’s the best
you’d never know the world was turning
but stars come out to show

it’s only at home you can really be lost

please remind me where that’s at

Kerri Shying R # 301-tightening the screws


Tightening the screws

Every moment skin    jumping off the flesh beneath
electric through to teeth   and tight the turn
the smallest of the Allen keys
on that ridiculous circlet 
you wear at your belt 

I wondered
what it was you
took apart  stood ready
to disassemble  at
any moment     horrors

it is me     I do nothing
to prevent you    just make light sounds
murmuring my reasons
for occupying space
as if     at the core of me
in my soul       my spirit
my breadbox

I think there is some battery pack
you might adjust     make the current
flow        all that ails me swims away
a current    washed
a drain