Just 20 people.
In a long wooden dragon boat.
Two abreast
Breathing, tensed, waiting for the gun.
3 months of training
condensed to 3 minutes
This is it, coiled, small world
Waiting for the gun.
Sea breeze and green mountains
Not in the picture today
The other 11 boats
Not in the picture today.
Bang. Stick strikes drum
Paddles pull water
Hard at first but the speed increases
Every muscle driving.
18 oars in perfect synchronization,
Drive, pull, breath, recover.
Stroke after stroke
Drum beat after drum beat.
Pain setting in,
Lungs screaming, muscles ripping
18 oars in perfect synchronization,
Drum beat after drum beat.
The team screams through the pain
The world melts
To a relentless rhythm
Pull harder for the last twenty.
Fall back. Everything gone.
Exhausted.
Confused.
But so high there is nothing else.
Cameras flash.
Crowds Roar.
Hands shuck
Team nods exchanged.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Phantom Bike Shimmy
Almost like a ghost you come
You're unexpected.
You're unforgiving.
You're terrifying.
You walk into my life at high speed
Building up slowly
Catching my absolute attention
Hairs standing on end.
The familiar feeling of unease
That usually evaporates
But this time no, you're staying
Whispering tales of bitter ends.
A faint intangible wobble
Bike frame feeling like jelly
Rippling on a silver try
Each resonance closer to the end.
Breath in, this is it,
Tarmac at 50mph
But no, grasp the unknown
Fight like it's the last breath.
No longer a metal framed
carbon fiber reinforced
machine of substance
but an eel swimming between my legs.
Hold on, don't lock up,
Everything rides on this moment
Body swaying now.
But speed disappearing.
Finally jump off at the curb.
Safe.
No traffic passed.
I wasn't spat from bike.
But my trusted bike is
Eerily perfect.
Rides true, all parts in order.
Just a brief moment of mechanical possession.
You're unexpected.
You're unforgiving.
You're terrifying.
You walk into my life at high speed
Building up slowly
Catching my absolute attention
Hairs standing on end.
The familiar feeling of unease
That usually evaporates
But this time no, you're staying
Whispering tales of bitter ends.
A faint intangible wobble
Bike frame feeling like jelly
Rippling on a silver try
Each resonance closer to the end.
Breath in, this is it,
Tarmac at 50mph
But no, grasp the unknown
Fight like it's the last breath.
No longer a metal framed
carbon fiber reinforced
machine of substance
but an eel swimming between my legs.
Hold on, don't lock up,
Everything rides on this moment
Body swaying now.
But speed disappearing.
Finally jump off at the curb.
Safe.
No traffic passed.
I wasn't spat from bike.
But my trusted bike is
Eerily perfect.
Rides true, all parts in order.
Just a brief moment of mechanical possession.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Screaming Beats
|....|..|...|...|
deep in urban fabrics
the slip of syncopation alive
wells up inside
exploding rib cages
sucked back in, another bar.
Relentless evolving sound
Internet niches now huge
1 and zeros , ones and 0's
zooming around the globe
To ear bones and synaptic nerves
to the center of everything.
when the sun has faded
particles still collide
rhythms develop
The gentle beat of eternity
deep in urban fabrics
the slip of syncopation alive
wells up inside
exploding rib cages
sucked back in, another bar.
Relentless evolving sound
Internet niches now huge
1 and zeros , ones and 0's
zooming around the globe
To ear bones and synaptic nerves
to the center of everything.
when the sun has faded
particles still collide
rhythms develop
The gentle beat of eternity
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Experiments
Sorry, it's been awhile. Margg, thanks for the encouragement, this may make things make sense.
Experimenting with sobriety;
Bottle of vodka frozen into the freezer
with loneliness.
Endless days of energy and mediocrity,
Run here, row there, hear the vicious beat.
The bars of life palpable.
The sad realization of transition,
long drawn out waves
To a way of life.
The underground doors slide shut,
Two faces already pressed against the window
Kissing through the impenetrable but invisible barrier.
Knocking on thirty with a career,
that seldom makes me care.
A hole for my head peg.
The mountains speak to me again,
The sea's tides rock my rest bite.
The trees gently shade my emptiness.
My friend's words remain with me,
No longer lost in the soup of intoxication.
It's a new day, the sun slates through the occasional clouds.
Experimenting with sobriety;
Bottle of vodka frozen into the freezer
with loneliness.
Endless days of energy and mediocrity,
Run here, row there, hear the vicious beat.
The bars of life palpable.
The sad realization of transition,
long drawn out waves
To a way of life.
The underground doors slide shut,
Two faces already pressed against the window
Kissing through the impenetrable but invisible barrier.
Knocking on thirty with a career,
that seldom makes me care.
A hole for my head peg.
The mountains speak to me again,
The sea's tides rock my rest bite.
The trees gently shade my emptiness.
My friend's words remain with me,
No longer lost in the soup of intoxication.
It's a new day, the sun slates through the occasional clouds.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
What are governments and why do they feel they have the right to impose law?
My piss smelt like barbeque flavored crisps today.
And looked like iron bru.
I wouldn't drink it even if the person in charge
at the foreign legion
told me too.
Which apparently a friend of mine had to do.
To prove he was a man.
Whatever, an x girlfriend of mine drank her own piss,
Not for sexual pleasure,
Just to see what it tasted like.
Apparently neither nice nor foul.
A bit like fish eyes.
The first time I ate them,
my friend didn't tell me not to crunch the hard bit.
The rest was neither nice nor foul,
but the hard bit was chalky and foul.
Another friend of mine,
when very young
ate his own poo
because it brown and looked like chocolate.
His mum considered this a taboo, and said no.
I think I agree with his mum.
My friend's wife one day,
came home with a highly venomous snake,
she chased through their field and clubbed to death
with a bit of bamboo.
She cooked it into a great soup.
She wasn't afraid of mice either.
They got married when they were 14,
and are completely in love.
With two children called guitar and a name I forget,
but again sounds like a romanic word.
I've never fancied the ultimate taboo,
eating a person.
But some people have, when in desperate need.
I guess everybody has a point in their lives,
When to survive.
You break all your own rules.
Just so you can see your family and friends again.
What are governments and why do they feel they have the right to impose law?
And looked like iron bru.
I wouldn't drink it even if the person in charge
at the foreign legion
told me too.
Which apparently a friend of mine had to do.
To prove he was a man.
Whatever, an x girlfriend of mine drank her own piss,
Not for sexual pleasure,
Just to see what it tasted like.
Apparently neither nice nor foul.
A bit like fish eyes.
The first time I ate them,
my friend didn't tell me not to crunch the hard bit.
The rest was neither nice nor foul,
but the hard bit was chalky and foul.
Another friend of mine,
when very young
ate his own poo
because it brown and looked like chocolate.
His mum considered this a taboo, and said no.
I think I agree with his mum.
My friend's wife one day,
came home with a highly venomous snake,
she chased through their field and clubbed to death
with a bit of bamboo.
She cooked it into a great soup.
She wasn't afraid of mice either.
They got married when they were 14,
and are completely in love.
With two children called guitar and a name I forget,
but again sounds like a romanic word.
I've never fancied the ultimate taboo,
eating a person.
But some people have, when in desperate need.
I guess everybody has a point in their lives,
When to survive.
You break all your own rules.
Just so you can see your family and friends again.
What are governments and why do they feel they have the right to impose law?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Peace
I have found peace in many places,
Harvesting rice, before sitting down to eat last seasons.
Swapping choices cuts with friends,
Passing a glass of strong moonshine.
Because beer seems bottled and extravagant.
Or different times, living in Muslim communities,
Where alcohol is frowned upon.
So you eat chicken in peanut sauce,
Swap stories and jokes in languages barely understood.
Watching the red dawn over adobe huts.
Or laying the last brick in house I once built.
Before giving it away because I became restless.
But the sun set over mountains there.
Which have always seemed permanent.
And by consequence superior.
Or lying in naked arms,
Thinking of children and families.
In that moment after orgasm,
When the world shrinks to two.
With slow Saturdays, tea, crumpets and dreams.
Watching a snake move with unsurpassed elegance
Through a mulberry tree.
A river flowing never slightly in the distance.
Jungle mountains whom really know their trees
I wonder if they know me – their voyeur.
Riding an endless mountain road.
Through clouds and storms.
Cold and hot, the potholed tarmac
Stretching into an unknown distance.
With cities and sugary fruit shakes.
Holding hands on a town bench.
Sometime passed closing time.
With a shared brown papered bottled.
With jokes about the world
And the Monday to come.
So now it is skyscrapers and crowded streets
Where I find peace.
In a swirling mass of impersonal humanity.
But somehow this makes sense, the unknown passenger
next to me, bumping into me with the rock of the train.
Lost in their own thoughts, their own world now.
Harvesting rice, before sitting down to eat last seasons.
Swapping choices cuts with friends,
Passing a glass of strong moonshine.
Because beer seems bottled and extravagant.
Or different times, living in Muslim communities,
Where alcohol is frowned upon.
So you eat chicken in peanut sauce,
Swap stories and jokes in languages barely understood.
Watching the red dawn over adobe huts.
Or laying the last brick in house I once built.
Before giving it away because I became restless.
But the sun set over mountains there.
Which have always seemed permanent.
And by consequence superior.
Or lying in naked arms,
Thinking of children and families.
In that moment after orgasm,
When the world shrinks to two.
With slow Saturdays, tea, crumpets and dreams.
Watching a snake move with unsurpassed elegance
Through a mulberry tree.
A river flowing never slightly in the distance.
Jungle mountains whom really know their trees
I wonder if they know me – their voyeur.
Riding an endless mountain road.
Through clouds and storms.
Cold and hot, the potholed tarmac
Stretching into an unknown distance.
With cities and sugary fruit shakes.
Holding hands on a town bench.
Sometime passed closing time.
With a shared brown papered bottled.
With jokes about the world
And the Monday to come.
So now it is skyscrapers and crowded streets
Where I find peace.
In a swirling mass of impersonal humanity.
But somehow this makes sense, the unknown passenger
next to me, bumping into me with the rock of the train.
Lost in their own thoughts, their own world now.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
My Table Top
Cold coffee pot
lap top
unplugged headphones
dental floss
half full wine glass
half used citronella candle
loose change
ice cream bowl
flat keys
leaking ashtray
Tabasco sauce pizza hut package
lube
irregularly heaped receipts for goods
ATM evidence
tissues (used and packaged)
fruit bowl full of sugar free lollipops
ripped hard drive box
hard drive
hard drive instructions (unopened)
water jug
water glass
another water glass
read books
unread books
diary
half read book
open dvd cases
gas bill
half full fag packet
empty fag packet
cellophane wrapper with price tag
(devoid of mother's day card)
take away menu
maxican hat
empty beer cans
printed out photos of english countryside
cables connecting me to the world and speakers
grime
and dirt
my life on my coffee table
lap top
unplugged headphones
dental floss
half full wine glass
half used citronella candle
loose change
ice cream bowl
flat keys
leaking ashtray
Tabasco sauce pizza hut package
lube
irregularly heaped receipts for goods
ATM evidence
tissues (used and packaged)
fruit bowl full of sugar free lollipops
ripped hard drive box
hard drive
hard drive instructions (unopened)
water jug
water glass
another water glass
read books
unread books
diary
half read book
open dvd cases
gas bill
half full fag packet
empty fag packet
cellophane wrapper with price tag
(devoid of mother's day card)
take away menu
maxican hat
empty beer cans
printed out photos of english countryside
cables connecting me to the world and speakers
grime
and dirt
my life on my coffee table
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
