poetry

there is a story [untitled]

there is a story behind the
shape of your skin
the husk of your smile
guitar contours lace
the rhythm of your stare

“there’s a circle, that
can’t be broken…”
cowboys
commas
curses – stir through the
smoke of your cigarette

denim and man
forged into veins of your beard

a tin can
rattles in a song you
sang above the poised audience
begging for air

 

 

Original draft

 

 

PhilosopherPoet

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poetry, Prose, Reviews

fences

Inspired by the 2016 film Fences (click here)
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spin the ball with me…hold that leather skull in your hand it’s just baseball

it could be rocket science ingredients leaping from tube to tube with the fear of fire and the desire to turn into something cold and remembered

in baseball folks are running from plate to plate sometimes you miss the ball like it’s a force you can’t see…an idea you can’t free…a divorce in your head maybe

an old man is out building a fence…he buys sturdy wood…he wears a smile and a stare that crawls into your bones

he churns up the naked loam with an old spade…his hands cling to the wooden neck the same way a jaded man fondles a bottle of something strong enough to wash emotions away

“one day I’ll finish this damn thing” he tells himself…earth, sweat and spray rinse dense memories he cannot leave behind unless he presses his lips to the gentle kiss of a gin bottle

old, polished, strong to the taste just like a boy he remembers and the man he forgets

 

 

PhilosopherPoet

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poetry

the lady on the bus

fragile and foetal
death picks up the chaos
she cannot collect

her eyes hide
in the slow smoke

her hair lies between
rules and regret

a brown umbrella
decorates her day

a white hat
holds the echoes
in her speech

her son died today
in dank ditches
where spoons suffocate

eyes like a soldier
a voice so tender
it narrates the
fingers of smoke

 

PhilosopherPoet

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Canadian nuances, Rantings

Canadian nuances – Part 7: That African Twitch

It’s cold. (Well, only 5°C but you forget…I’m a wuss with warm tropical blood.)

My backpack is crammed with groceries. It has the weight of a dying child. Each hand holds two more shopping bags. It’s around 10pm. I’m tired and starved. All I want to do is get home and throw food at my face until a gravy coloured smile emerges.

I’m walking up Yukon street and my steam-engine breath is pumping ahead of me. My eyes catch those of a girl walking towards me. She looks young. A brief guess puts her as an older teenager or in her earlier 20s.
She sees me and a train of words comes rushing out of her mouth.

“Hey, can I ask you a favour?”
“Wh-”

“Do you have a phone on you?”
I freeze for a second. My hands loosely hold the two shopping bags ready to release them. My eyes scan the road behind her. No one there. My brain blurts to the saner part… Are there two guys in the bushes behind me?

I still feel skeptical of parting with my phone on command. I ask her why. Another torrent of words hurtles towards me. She was trying to find her friend’s place blah blah blah. She was from North Vancouver, she felt lost. At this point my Canadian brain says… This chick’s too stressed out to create moving bushes.

I ask her the address. She tells me. I know it. I point to the street behind me that I had just crossed. This doesn’t seem to be enough to quell her bubbling questions. I shrug and pull out my phone. I open up Google Maps and punch in the address she gave me.
“Oh wow, you’re actually looking it up. I’m so sorry to do this to you…”

“Nah, shit happens,” I reply. The red balloon thingy mushrooms on the screen and I see where she was meant to go. Turns out she was only 250m or so away.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I feel like such an idiot.”

A gloved hand flies up to cover her mouth. An embarrassed laugh trickles out into the night air. Within seconds she scampers away again.

I bend down, and pick up my shopping bags again. I chuckle to myself. Those goddam bushes.

 

PhilosopherPoet

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Humour, Rantings

10 things that make me stabby

  • folding clothes in neat piles
  • hip-hop played louder than listening speed
  • people with bombs strapped to their chest and a smile on their face
  • small children in waiting rooms who need to be exorcised
  • a blocked toilet without a plunger
  • people who ask me for a light before they look for a cigarette in my hand
  • hobo joe and his dreamcoat crammed next to me on the bus
  • a bad can opener who laughs at me and my last can of beans
  • after a poetic dump, a brown roll looks back at me and waves

 

PhilosopherPoet

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Philosophy, poetry

the old man and the boy

an old man walks
along the rocky
road of an orchid

he carries a silent staff
amber eyes drink the
severed psyche of the boy
he sits down to watch

– come and listen
he beckons the boy
naive feet beat
against the ground

– it’s the sound of a frog
wizard like wind whistles
through hair and bones

the boy fidgets
baby rabbit brain
inside young man muscle

– it’s the sound
of your warrior
a damp dialect dribbles
from his throat

– huh?
childhood chaos unfolds
vacant voices shift
in virgin ears

an old hand
ploughs through
knots in his beard

– cry like a man
burn with regret
listen to angst unwind
in your bones

he says

 

PhilosopherPoet

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Art, Inspiration

Dare to dream…

In the last few weeks I’ve decided to give my blog more visual content such as videos and art. I love writing, although, it’s always handy to get a different source of inspiration for writers and artists alike.  😉

This morning after my morning thrust of coffee ignited my synapses, I flipped open my laptop and flicked through a swarm of tweets. An image caught my attention. Not just caught it, but engrossed me. My artistic brain started tripping…and time slowed down. I admit I’m a natural romantic and have a weakness for the fantasy world. A severe one. Mould those two together and…the inner artist starts to swoon.

We should all learn to dream a little. Put down the cellphone and let your creative mind slowly seduce you. Go have a look at these images below. If you want to learn more about this artist, go check out her Deviant Art account here: http://lanatustich.deviantart.com/  😀

 

a_call_for_a_flight_48_x_36_s_by_yantotzkie-d8lm8vn

 

alone_in_the_sea_by_lanatustich-d9iys47

butterfly_garden_by_lanatustich-d9ev2vg

 

christmas_tree_or_something_strange_by_lanatustich-d9jfxa2

 

d_r_e_a_m_c_a_t_c_h_e_r_by_lanatustich-d9rlyo0

 

forgotten_toy_by_lanatustich-d9rw9kq

 

perfect_flower_by_lanatustich-d9h3cz1

 

personal_world_by_lanatustich-d9sukb6

 

psychology_by_lanatustich-d9rbwfz

 

rose_by_lanatustich-d9fatp3

 

stardust_by_lanatustich-d9tj9bh

 

sunset_by_lanatustich-d987zy4

 

the_chair_by_lanatustich-d9jfhbs

 

the_hours_by_lanatustich-d9s75vl

 

to_be_continued__by_lanatustich-d9rrctv

 

to_the_light_by_lanatustich-d9t5s35

 

PhilosopherPoet

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