observations, on the run

[wildsweetone]

52

today was visionary.
one more instance of reality nailing me
to the ground where it feels hardest.
it is also the easiest place to be walked on.
don't look back, i am a survivor.

 

[wildsweetone]

53

just tryin' something...

there is no silence, no palming of coin
nor relic from the past, there is no silence.
there is no sound, no charming intonation
of sigh nor delicate daydream,
no future to hold close to the chest
gripped tight in reverence to the sound of silence
there is no sound.

 

[wildsweetone]

54

not quite cricket

in the swirl of early autumn
leaf litter tick tacks its way
down the street, banks up
on the lawn edge, manicure bent
and looking for all the world
as if a one dayer at Eden Park
had come to the west.

 

[butters]

100 percent humidity

there's a misty rain falling, grey-walling
the garden with its hot, sad soaking. beyond
lays nothing (though i'm sure i know differently) more
than road and traffic and more tomorrows
of the same in this transitional tunnel
that blinds the ability to know sunrises
after falling stars. the beauty is
no one can follow the track of tears.

this.

sigh.

 

[wildsweetone]

55

is that sigh one of sadness?
could it be the depths of love
have shallowed out, drunk
of the tears of falling stars
and turned breath to spiral silently
curling up, curing the air
of all that ails its well tended waves.

 

[wildsweetone]

56

Round the Bays Run, Auckland

tall and short, fat, thin, old, young walking, running, hopping, on crutches wheelchairs, barefoot, dressed as bees. however you went, you went from start to finish. you got wet when it rained, dried out under the autumnal sun. you drank city water from clear plastic cups, and crushed empties under your feet. you watched babies sleeping in pushchairs, special needs people being guided along the route. you walked the road and paths, with harbour waters lapping the shore line next to you. you did it. from beginning to end you moved, you moved and succeeded, a goal achieved. one under your belt. one more step taken.

 

[wildsweetone]

57

the music's loud, all you can hear really
is the dull thudding bass, hammering
away pieces of the wall constructed
around us, disclosing our privacy -
something 40 plusers wrap up in
warding off the chills of dogma
that swoops its way in through doors
wide with the temptation of toying.
still the bass beats on like a clock
unbroken in a storm leashed.

 

[wildsweetone]

58

we've wrapped ourselves in the wood
and plastic of other people's paths.
when we chop that all away,
what is left does not glue us, does not
kindle a need to be joined.
the wedge is driven deeper
and our eyes study copses
in the distance.

 

[wildsweetone]

59

another glimpse ahead

dawn has broken and there is little left
of the dismal damage of yesterday, nothing
lingering of the emotional debts scarred
internally. future hopes are changing,
travel is possible, holidays and the unknown
are something to look forward to. loves
of salt air and Sundays, of candy floss,
friendships and peace are here
and it does not matter the season of dying
has arrived. it is beautiful, and mirrors
the wrapping around my heart.

 

[wildsweetone]

60

i watch ahead as...

she walks out of her skin, leaves
behind the chaff that leashed her

to the addiction; she has sworn off fixing,
manipulation and game playing, has recharged
each day with the light of sun

the certainty of dawn, the loving of self
that will bring her back tomorrow, not

as fluid as today, more like the leafs
on liquid ambers in early Autumn - calm,
waiting with that inevitable peace

the acceptance of endings
we all know from birth.

 

[wildsweetone]

61

tenderness comes in your hug, the way
your arms enclose, the touch of lips
on hair, nurturing, caring, loving just me, just
the way i am. there is no judgement here,
nothing more than honest love, nothing more
than the closeness only fingertips can create.
i am what i am and each dawn, you accept me.

 

[wildsweetone]

62

we've not hung from a rope
swing and jumped into the deepest of creeks,

we've not held hands and walked
a silvery moon-path at the beach,

we've not even smiled at each other
across the table. we are disconnected

and so it is over. love has to have some thing
from which the roots of a joined journey can grow.

 

[wildsweetone]

63

there's a kind of finale to it,
like the last drips of green tea from the cup
on a day after hot sweaty work. you know
they're not going to taste the same
as the first mouthful,
but you sip them anyway. the last minutes
of a marriage not made in heaven,
have that same temporary bitter aftertaste.

 

[wildsweetone]

we've not hung from a rope
swing and jumped into the deepest of creeks,

we've not held hands and walked
a silvery moon-path at the beach,

we've not even smiled at each other
across the table. we are disconnected

and so it is over. love has to have some thing
from which the roots of a joined journey can grow.

edit cos a line break grates...

we've not hung from a rope swing
and jumped into the deepest of creeks,

we've not held hands and walked
a silvery moon-path at the beach,

we've not even smiled at each other
across the table. we are disconnected

and so it is over. love has to have some thing
from which the roots of a joined journey can grow.

 

[wildsweetone]

64.

so fast it happens,
one moment watching from above
the wind ruffle the trees,
and the next,
nosedive, making a depression
large enough to be swallowed whole

 

[wildsweetone]

65

how do i reconcile the call of the city
with the drugs and the country heart
laying deep inside? i'm going to wing it,

write a prayer for a dawn blessing
for each new blessing of dawn
that evolves after the neons go out
after the night owls pack it in

and sleep. i'm going to sing
praises, draw on the act of love
and lay down my own laws.