unhelmeted

unhelmeted

                                                                              With her mind
                                                  I dreamed the blue sky
                                          through an empty visor.
                       And without disguise
                                       I saw the shining face of childhood
                       and my tiny self,
                              framed,
             down the end of a gun-barrel ...
or was it an oval frame
        on a forgotten mantelpiece?
                       yes, I think it was ...
and I saw a child, older now, staring
           out ofa fading family album,
with crazy blue-green eyes,
                      looking like she wanted to kill someone.
          And even afterthat,
                       I discovered an anonymous girl, on drugs,
              a wild bush-teenager slapping ripolin onto some old
scraps
                       of masonite,
            her gun hovering
      like a ghost ...

           I thinkshe died,
or went to sleep,
     perhaps, on a small pale pillow of hope
       set against a back-drop of despair...
          but there'sa burnt sienna head floating,
                                 somewhere,
                 in pools of jacaranda blue,
visible only to those who read,
     across and through
and around ...
in the spaces where
   paint can merge
with thoughts
    and words
and something else ...
         but she's there, still
as a Nolan Shakespeare
sonnet
      or some other
                       utterly brilliant
                     verbal
                      sludge
                     that sings, sometimes
                                                 after dark.

one hundred degrees celsius  Boiling beneath a calm exterior is an anger                             that simultaneously provokes                                                    and is provoked by                                           an immobilising lethargy.        I have known this corrosive interplay for years.             The invaders perfuse every part of my being,                                                           seemingly uninvited,                                                settling both inside and out,                                                                      like thick black fog,                                                                                      suffocating                                                                                 and full of lead.                                                    It has a visage,                                that taunts me,    a hated, hateful face.Rather than running like crazy, though,                                                          I stay,                                                 hating and liking                                                              the torpor,                                                            and the rage,                                                        loathing and loving,                                                                     at the same time ...                                                                                unable                                                                                       and/or                                                                              unwilling to flee.                                                                        But, now,                                                                        right now,                                                                        this very moment,                                                                        I want to kill it dead,                                                        and watch the blood seep out of its temples,                                                                        signifying victory.                   And I'll see its demise today, and tomorrow, and the next day.                                   But it will never live to torture me again. Never.                                        And above and below me                              and around about my being,    stretching out as far as I can imagine                              will be blue sky                     with streamers                that wave        in triumph  towards infinity.