this was poem i wrote in my collection...about & for Lynny...who got me angry and thinking the day before my birthday one year...

Lithe Walker


If I were to pour out my heart
would you soak like a sponge?
If I were to pull down the stars
would you help me shine them?
If I were to tell you the truth
would you screw it up into a ball and eat it?
If I were to speak my mind
Would you ask me to conceal it?

There is still connection
Even though you don't care
I thought you saw things like I did
But you made it clear you don't

There is still the recognition
And the smile of reprise
The ghost of the past still lingers
And the spectre still occupies the abyss

You used to know me
And I you
There was once the word "best"
Along the tightrope we walked
Wobble one way and sway the next
Wait for the springboard to
Kick into action

Hope for the gift of reverse


Perhaps you know too much,
And I too little
Perhaps the new shoes didn't quite fit
Perhaps you secretly knew that
Exposing my weakness and
Unearthing my anger would
Infuse the greater ire in me
And cause me to scribble
Furiously and ruin my essay

So the neurons are charcoal
And the membranes are mush

Perhaps the time bomb ticked in your head
And you decided to blow the volcano too

The abyss deepened while your
Chasm caved in
Did it give you some kind of fulfillment
To bring down my ideal

Perhaps you thought you
Were doing me a favour
By mixing the sodium chloride


The world still turns and
The buttons still break
Heads still roll and

Sandwiches are still made of bread
But salads? La lattuga non esiste piu'
The pumpkin, seeds and tubers knock it out

Just as the handbag attached to the balaclava barbarian
Swings just enough for the Mavises to fall

Can you see the moon above the owl
Or hear the soil turn beneath the grasshopper?

Does the chill in the air turn
Your blood to oxygen and your fear to spite?

Or is that the insolent in the corner?


Wherefore art thou Lyn-bo
Where do your loyalties lie?
Is the mud in the lake still attached to your feet?
Or have you kicked your ugg-boots off
Into the equine pool

Do the moths still buzz around your head?
Has the tsunami subsided?
Did the flies catch the bus from your visage?

It would not be economical to hammer a lid onto a jar.
The crack is melding into the silicon
But the dioxide entombs the lid

The art of conversation has a problematic turn
With its rusty jaggedness that reels you in
Like a mullet tugging on the nylon of
your satin piquets,
Lingers like a paedophile with "candy"

But when will the golden arches crush him?
The stuffing smears the walls
And suffocates the gizzards

Gee whiz!
Succumb to the fireflies burn

Place the green texta circles on
The spinning of the fan
Verdent faecal matter
The woodchips flying
The chainsaws buzzing out of control
Stop the bushpig cutting my tree down

Join the army of the marching sheep

Don't look back
The glue will force the vertebrae to break


Rhapsody in Bb minor
Don't look at me like that
Motionless and out of control
Facing the clouds with discriminatory malevolence
Taking the cleaver to the azure

Dark will envelope the uncertainty
Light will reveal the contours
Purgatory will trap the spirit

Dial 666 for roasted conscience
But don't expect the butler at the trapdoor
For the pitchfork will be skewering the control

Don't reach for 000
You'll be waiting all your life
Just as the bivariance has dominated mine

Moving into euphoria is a harrowing experience
Boning the flesh with a paring knife
Powdering the elephants' tusks with
The molars of steel

In my pocket
Just came up

My jumper's on backwards

I have to get all these refills
6 dollars
Where do you go?

Sometimes you have to wait
Before the day implodes

The sun will strike a match again

Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 549 times
Written on 2006-08-13 at 04:35

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Descriptive and intriguing..great job!