We're born humble.
Our bones and hearts
are filled with stardust.
We are children of the heavens, they say...
Life is about eating soil (hectares of it).
Soil beneath our nails and in the teeth.
Seeds growing into the bloom of being.
Nourished by tears with some laughter in between.
Being humble is a pebble in the violent stream of living.
At the end, when our bones are bent
and the stardust spills... the heart relents.
We'll be heavenly humble once again.
The beach was packed with bodies burnt bothered,
reeking of sweat, dried salt and sunburn cream.
The sea writhed and churned as the crowds gathered
to take a swim to beat the heat and scream.
The sky darkened as storm entered the scene.
The crowd panicked and rushed home in a crush
As rain and hail fell in violent stream.
Leaving the beach scrubbed clean with a brush
By summer showers calling: "It's time for a flush".
crushed, wrecked, and shook
like a ceramic doll I fall
headlong and deep, deep
into the violent stream
of fear--fear that flows, flows
like a hurried river
into the tributaries of my
fearful heart which
trembles and quakes at the
watery inundations of its
rippled waves; flooded
and overflowed with
fears and unmoved by
promises that deceive
with a caress I take refuge
and secret repose
in a thing more wild, in a
thing more bloodthirsty,--
a feral creature called "love,"
whose kiss is a fatal bite!
I wandered sideways as a crab
past windows ripe for smash and grab,
when in my back I felt a stab
of Stanley knife intrusion.
Sharp between the shoulder blades,
to widen eyes behind the shades,
the pennies dropped in coin arcades
and spun through my confusion.
I held my breath and stooped a bit,
as blood flowed from the gaping slit,
a victim of a gangland hit
I crumpled to the ground.
My life unfurled before my eyes,
a violent stream of truth and lies,
a screaming, silent improvise
that howled without a sound.
He stood above me as I bled
with rueful smile and shaking head,
“It’s nothing personal,” he said
and winked a lazy eye.
My mind slid sideways like a crab,
as I lay on the paving slab,
my killer hailed a passing cab
and left me there to die.
A cold sensation filled my veins,
a creeping darkness ate my brains,
a nearby scent of sewer drains
like perfume made in hell.
I lived a life to my accord
of evil deeds that ill afford,
for if you must live by the sword
there’s little more to tell...
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