rootin'-tootin' misinformed opinions
a game of risk at an overflowing cafe
in t-shirts, shorts and straws all over the floor
napkins neglected and looking like bankruptcy on stilts
i feel like a torn out page of my own sulwicket
or rather the shade outside, with its erroneous
shaped patches on the cobblestones
and non-fiction that isn't getting us anywhere
tennis court blues and the man waving from
another court, who believes he knows us,
but actually doesn't, but i return the wave
at break point
and a student has written a creative piece
set in the wild west with a character called
David Bowie, who comes in two-thirds of the
way through the yarn
about to duel in the town's empty and only crossroads.
"ch-ch-ch-ch-changes!' PEW PEW PEW
get kettle on
Let me stay safe
and lost, so perfectly
in your labyrinth, Bowie.
I am not Jennifer Connelly.
I am Jennifer Christina.
Two of my sisters are not there,
with you.
One of them
is already in the clouds
of another Labyrinth.
The puppets are not
playful in this
maze.
I choose to forget
the last line,
so, I can keep listening
to your songs,
on repeat.
"It's only forever.
Not long at all."
“Yes, I do believe in you,
yes, I do.”
Stairs, take
me nowhere.
Let me run up and
down, mocking
gravity, and my own
sense of direction.
Flip upside down,
downside up,
and through me.
One of us
is effervescent.
One of us is
singing.
One of us is still
listening.
One of us
is magic.
"Your eyes can be
so cruel.
Just as I can be
so cruel."
Find me, only me,
too intensely.
“Live without the sunlight.
Love without your heartbeat.
I…I…I… can’t live within you.”
Gladys had raised Bowie since he was a baby snake.
They had a loving relationship
Did not get many guests.
Bothered neither of them
They had each other
Bowie liked to lie in bed next to Gladys
It gave him comfort as he grew longer and longer
He was ten years old now, longer than the bed
His tail curled over onto the floor
He stopped eating and Gladys grew concerned.
She called the vet.
“Get out of the house now!” the vet told her.
Your Boa Constrictor is measuring you, getting ready to eat you!”
Maybe it was the crack in his voice.
But Gladys did not argue.
Animal Control came in and took Bowie away.
As far as we know she does not have a new snake.
You dream as you turn the pages of lasagna and the thin voices of your parents behind the wall
That man is there, the fluff, the sequins of his overcoat
A strange angle to challenge your religion, you can’t really see the eyes from this flash
As a child you stared, and now you stare again.
It strikes seven chords from within your bones. A medley; the body has never heard before-
And the muscles, the nerves, the fibers, and the tissue all vibrate to make vague sort of new virgin space.
Aaagh, all of a sudden, and your grandmother touches you gently, a brush on the shoulder to ask you are you alright? Because your flesh is dripping.
And you know why, because its all,
Bit of your soul is broken off
And ‘that’s why the caged bird sings’ now
And all.
You’re a ripple in the daylight now.
So try,
And try,
And try,
And try.
you went supernova
with oddly
an oddity about space
that tied in with the moon landing
and your course was set.
you questioned the existence
of life on Mars
created a persona, and wife
the Stardusts
sung of the prettiest one.
loved the alien
illogically were afraid of Americans
got high
got low
crashed the same car many times.
ultimately not the chaos
but the cancer
the chameleon called
the changeling claimed
blessed, then cursed.
swung with the best of them-
spun songs too
Starman, sadness overwhelms
we knew you
and every outrageous costume change.
I saw a blackstar in the sky tonight
and knew
it was true
goodbye spaceboy
ashes to ashes
funk to funky
dust to stardust.
12.1.2016 07:30am
I am the master of bedevil, the salt upon the meat
I am the cognitive in the incognito who can convincingly repeat
Each mood, each move, each song to be replete
With authenticity, synchronicity, electricity and beat
I am the master of presentation with the prowess of display
I am the rendition in the music, the soul, the core to portray
Perfection that is flawless and chilling its tone and color takeaway
Each beam of the spotlight so my listeners are carried away
I am the acronym of pop performance, a legend here to stay
I am the “Devil of Beguiling Sway”!
January 17, 2021
Completely Your Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
David Bowie hears his own music, so he designs his own clothes.
An artist, they say in awe, giving him a wide berth.
He cannot be duplicated, but can any of us? I stare at his beauty.
Sure he is handsome, but something more.
There is a magnificence about him that is not easy to see.
He sparkles like his own sun. He could be nude.
He would still shine like this, because he cannot help himself.
The shoes polish off his outfit so well; who does that?
I watch him walk through a sea of other beautiful people.
They give him a bit of extra room, because he is who he is.
Their awe and respect is hidden in no way, magnificently showing.
I want to be him someday. But when? Is it already too late?
And you think you are fine
Till they say they want more
And you know you’re not quite right
You want to be sure
Who would have thought
Your world would end
As you unwind the string
You don’t want to pretend
I can’t be who you want me to be
My feet are bound to the floor
You leave me twisting in the wind
As you unlock the door
I think I know
I know you know
You think you
Know me so well
They think they know me so well
Received an invitation
to a place you know you can not go
The thin white Duke got lost in here
The ashes melt as you
break the ice
Sanitys’ always got a price
Careful how you balance the costs
Just want to be known for you
I think I know
I know you know
You think you
Know me so well
They think they
Know me so well
Suffering always clogged my heart
Grim visaged was my soul
Eyes dim, shoulders a heavy laden cart
Never a day rose, that I felt whole
Til an image too close, slashed me awake
I braved the plunge, put this rot on paper
Felt change trickle, not just therapy fake
Now, I gather up my words
Not worrying of form or labour
And let them loose like migrating birds.
Written 20th May 2018 for Broken Wings
Contest: Let Your Pen Drip
Theme: I gather up my words
9th placing
Rhyme AB
I wish you peace starry child
As you face the final cut
Resonating Black Star dust
Strumming on gods guitar
In touching distance of the gates
We're the light your soul awaits
Rest in peace
Never forgotten
Because i know you blew our mind's
And left us in uncertain times
Dreary death comes with fatal style,
A glimpse forlorn as light goes out;
View confronts sum in weary smile,
Imprint now torn with scream and shout;
Dust to dust then moans passage home.
Boost message clear but not of fear,
Orphaned just when old soul once roamed;
Wrong or right here yet cling to cheer,
Instruct grim times upon the way;
Exhume vain pains as release breaks.
Extract fond rhymes as sad chimes play,
X-pect the slain to thus forsake;
Invite true heart to transcend gall,
Trip next stage art as footsteps fall.
Leon Enriquez
11 January 2016
Singapore
something strange to earth was sent
dropped some art then simply went
now lonely spiders left on mars
watch red shoes dance on dusty stars
and walls of televisions sing
sweet things about the rebel king
the lad insane, the skinny duke
androgynous inspired fluke
flight of peacock, coloured flash
funkin’ funky ash to ash
china diamond, cold as god
genuinely, truly odd
by gail
In my days of turmoil,
When I feel confused and blue
I ask myself a question:
"What would Bowie do?"
How would the Starman handle
This situation quite mundane?
Will I get an answer
From the old Aladdin Sane?
I was playing Ziggy
For the millionth time,
When the sky had turned
A shade of rosé wine.
In his shiny tin can
Crashing from the stars,
He landed in my kitchen
All the way from Mars.
Pinching myself silly,
Distrusting what I see:
Thin White Duke in person
Came down to speak to me!
Brushing off the star dust,
He stepped out of his ship.
Grabbed me by the collar
With a snow white grip.
"Here is the answer,
I'm tired of your crap:
Wear red disco pants
And shut your bleedin' trap."
This idol, this man holds a place in my heart.
He speaks of Ziggy Star Dust and Major Tom, so I don't know were to start.
He played as a king of a goblin land.
Watching and listening to him makes me crumble like sand.
David Bowie s melodies and performances are genuinely an art.
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