Monday 27 July 2015

out of synch...


Mag #280


it's strange
to be out of synch

she was British
and the role was
an American one

but circumstance
let her star

it's strange
to have thoughts
that don't seem to
connect

some call it depression

she just knew
that her reality was strung 
somewhere between
a red tag and
a white tag

it's strange
to feel that home
may have begun in India
but then
glitzy love and promises
planted  a pseudo home
in filmy countryside
and
staged rooms

the kind that
never lasts

it's strange to see
the mask of all I was

gone with the wind



 

Linking to:
Magpie Tales

Monday 20 July 2015

sepia...


Mag #279


your
ironwork
lassos
my fantasy

sepia 
vortex

my eye has lost
the colours of you



 

Linking to:
Magpie Tales

Monday 13 July 2015

I'm ready...


Magpie Tales #278


I'm ready

nicely healed black boots
nicely billowing black skirt
nicely fitting black top
and bell sleeves

tokens of my city life
my high value of
style
in motion

however
I'm ready for the next stage

I think

my sensible black hat
over sensible plaits
suggest that this is more
a business journey
rather than pleasure

and indeed

you are so right

I am on my way to
a funeral

out in my childhood
prairie country

the one I escaped
the one I ignored
the one that was 
so meaningless to me
then

but now
my funeral
calls me back

to face old demons
and old values
and maybe find
a few angels
or two

however

as you can clearly see

I missed

my train






 

Linking to:
Magpie Tales

Monday 6 July 2015

bathers...


Bathers (1950) by George Tooker
Magpie Tales #277


on my way to some fragile nirvana
(fragile 
because it was just
a desperate quirk of
my mind)
I found the scents of the sea

strangely
I expected to be alone
wanted to be alone
but
there were others
just like me

at least some were
(ahem...
two were)

they stood
towelled and capped
in some frozen expectation
of an instruction
(perhaps a command)
to move forward

like handmaids
going through the predictions
of a tale

I sidled in line
unaware of another door
where one
sculpted body
appeared to be casually drying
herself

unaware
that my entrance
and her exit
were zagged
mirrored
underbelly
opposites

but
I stood in tight-lipped silence
until
a dark moment
turned
my silence
into
fear

of being
closely
watched

closely
monitored


Linking to;
Magpie Tales
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