this was poem i wrote in my collection...about & for Lynny...who got me angry and thinking the day before my birthday one year...
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
2
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
3
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?
4
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
5
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 604 times
Written on 2006-08-13 at 04:35
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Lithe Walker
1If 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
2
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
3
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?
4
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
5
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 604 times
Written on 2006-08-13 at 04:35
Tags Friends
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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