Storm ions mass,
stir up old injuries,
swelling cats’ paws,
silencing cockatoos mid-screech.
In the particle zoo,
darker the light
settles stillness unsettling
like a spine tingle…
Then
an electric spear is thrown,
punctures the tension.
Fat clouds, slow on the uptake,
grumble to rain
to wash it away.
She,
a dark planet
stuck in the orbit of expectation
something will save her
from the debris littering the path she chose
An undesire to reflect
on why the universe
will never realise her wishes
He, a cold supernova,
burnt out,
no longer lights her way,
too busy planning his black-hole oblivion
toast this emerald life
happy anniversary
twenty as your wife
x:-)x
There’s one in every suburb
posing as a bestie, but beware
for it is said
this creature is a beastie
Rent-a-husband is her game
and yours is in her sights
when darkness falls, she’ll come for him
so don’t go working nights
“Can you help me with my …”
(stick WHATEVER in the blank)
ain’t his boy scout skills she wants
Girlfriends, let’s be frank
With all-consuming envy
she’s competing for your life
she wants your house, the car you drive,
to replace you as his wife
So, good women everywhere,
keep friends you know are true
but guard against the frenemy
lest her prey is you
Indigence,
an unwanted embrace
choking dignity’s oxygen
squeezing anger’s slow burn
crushing joy’s heart
Ah, but there it is
in the flatlining curiosity
of hollow eyes:
that faint pulse of hope
Nature’s little joke
Reduce waste, improve service levels
I’m sailing down the Mekong
implement LEAN techniques
lilt of Mandarin in my ears
reduce bottlenecks, manage cash flows
building schools in Vietnam
forecast seasonality peaks
to the sound of children’s cheers
filming critters in the Galapagos
giant tortoise and marine iguana
orangutans in Borneo
and Amazonian flora and fauna
dining in the Shanghai Bund
cycling through rural China
catching Tokyo no kabuki-za
and jazz in a New York diner
capturing Northern winter snows
ancient men in Parisian alleys
icebergs in Antarctica
vineyards in Chilean valleys
Optimize
camping out on English moors
Streamline
for some creative brooding
Synchronize
writing that novel in my head
but right now work’s intruding!
With the ring back on your finger
you sighed and slipped away
but forever it’s a mystery
where you went that day
Did you see them watching you
and whispering in your ear?
When you took your final journey,
did you know that they were there?
Did you sense that we were not?
No-one can ever know,
yet child-like we still ask ourselves –
that day, where did you go?
Image via http://www.sxc.hu
You and me,
we’re no longer three,
am I cracked and fading, a sepia-coloured memory?
oceans divide us,
and the years…
but your mettle
burns vivid as the desert ochre,
and your voice
beats ancient through my heart
Those freckles…
just sun kisses, they said
but this one,
– I think –
the air kiss of death
electric light show
rumbling closer,
scented star jasmine
mingling fragrance of rain,
thrum of cicadas
blending languid laughter,
glasses at the hills hoist
toasting vintage summer
So, Dawkins,
BASE-jumper of rationalism,
ice-climber of atheism,
big-wave rider of naturalism,
I wonder…
do you ever
scale the heights of spontaneous belly laughs?
bungee-jump the bridges of self-deprecating chuckles?
deep-dive the murky depths of self-doubt?
or has your personal evolution
yet to take you that far?
The smell of sawdust
takes me to a time
you’d send me to pick leaves for the silkworms
after your tools turned on you
(usually the ratchet screwdriver)
my young ears safe at the mulberry tree,
brother’s mosquito gang
wheelieing up the laneway
for a smoke and 50cc tune-up
with their favourite neighbourhood oldie,
night-scented gardenia
mixed with varnish,
crickets and
Erroll Garner
illuminating the nightwaves
a long time ago
I learned to smile
and say, “No.”
when strangers ask
if I have children
gone the polite mask
as mental narratives unfold
comforting themselves
no need to be told
I’m done with the baggage of family
Two friends, two lives
one, a garden variety drama,
the other,
a monstrous horror movie
profanity
unfolding slowly
picking off joys one by one
like psychopathic forces of nature
stripping away
what should have been
for one so precious:
limbs like the wind, a planet-sized brain
that crazy infectious laughter
atrophied
by the madness of grief and disbelief
I could no longer watch,
even through my fingers
Concealed in the sameness,
its faded blue suit,
Clark Kent by day,
who cares, who cares to look?
But
out there
when darkness falls,
it’s kite flying
breathtaking riddles out of dayshadows
an infinite teasing of zetetic minds
unphysics exploding:
The Universe –
ultimate mystery man
In the end –
your Sweet Baboo:
just a 2-dimensional comic strip;
the apple of your eye:
a worm-infested core;
your shining light:
a sputtering
redshift Doppler,
fading out
in your darkest hour.
Down here in the lower Antipodes
lives a creature known as hoon,
despised by cultured societies,
it’s a dense disinhibited loon.
East, west, you’ll find it tripping out,
and moreso in the wet weather;
the inclement compels it to skid about
driving me to the end of my tether
Its odious exhaust and rubber pongs
are a regular occurrence at night
and the sonic boom of its rap-crappy songs
wakes the living and long-dead in fright
I’d love to pounce as it swerved by
and teach it a really good lesson
by assailing it with sounds of billy ray cy
and james blunt, 24/7
Its misfiring brain disregards my death stare
as it doughnuts into the the turn
it gives not a toss – why should it care?
when it’s got new rubber to burn
Are drugs to blame for this sorry tale
of a bogan so devoid of remorse?
No, it’s just an epigenetic epic fail,
unintelligent design, of course
This week, I’m delighted to feature guest blogger Richard W. Bray, author of ‘Laughter hope sock in the eye’s blog‘.
Spoils of Victory
The girl who showed (the dreary child)
With countenance both sad and mild
Was from a bloody land exiled
I’m told the nation of her birth
Is now a gory mound of earth
Warlords, weapons, wealth and worth
Unrestrained appetites will devour
And human beings will kill for power
Terror, torture, bloody towers
The weak and hateless are first to suffer
When demagogues urge us tougher
The meek will bleed; the rough get rougher
Life is fleeting, profits certain
And who is that behind the curtain?
Blackwater and Halliburton
It behooves the species to isolate
Those abject monsters who live for hate
Instead, we make them heads of state
To whom could we ever hope to atone
This fateful error bred in the bone?
Live, kill and die alone
Wash your hands, take a rest
Count the ways that you’ve been blessed
And struggle against all who would attest
That they drop bombs to make men free
While screen-addled drones like you and me
Consume the spoils of victory
© Richard W. Bray
Richard W. Bray is a writer and educator who lives in Southern California.
He has commented on several blogs under the names get real, fredo bush, aka fredo, like totally down, calpubserv, humeaudenparker, and perhaps a few monikers he has forgotten about.
You can reach him at laughterhopesockeye@yahoo.com
They bring cakes, smiling,
but there it is,
transparent in those quick glances
Like shots fired into the back of a retreating enemy
they reveal
what lies beneath –
a green glow in their empty hearts
a silent war
in this festering landscape that is suburbia
beeblu blog 
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