The Devil Wears A Mechanical Heart

Elizabeth has given me five words, tourettes, purple, time, hand and slide.

In a way this is something that comes from recent events, built from the five words Elizabeth has given me and is in a way a summary of a long message I sent to her.

A little bit of chaff from the brain given to the wind and we shall see what follows.

In Between The Hands

Time has tourettes;
it ticks with the songs of crickets
it tocks like electrified rabbits.

Time bends an arm
sends a big hand
slaps purple on pink

We slide beneath the sheets
whisper bedtime stories
tell Time it is Nature's law

and in the depths of night
we nurse the sting.

My sister asked me today, "Are you doing your desert training then?". Its a bit of a private joke between us.

People will moan they are hot, its too hot, they are red faced, wafting paper to get some cool air.

In 30c heat I will wear a suit, with the jacket (done up) (and sometimes a heavy coat). People will often look on with semi amazement.

I am not be particularly bothered by the heat despite sweating. The same is true for the cold albeit out in a shirt in very low temperatures instead of wrapping up or not putting on a radiator in my office.

It's an old trait where I can disengage my mind from physical distractions although I also know my limits. You will see me take my jacket off from time to time.

This reminded me I like the rain and that sweat from the brow in high temperatures is your own personal rain. Rain has also been a metaphor for my creativity in my work and then I thought of sausages....

The Rain

Sausages laid in disorganized ranks
they sizzle, turn milky white to shellfish red.

Threads heavy, black as funeral blue he walks,
beaded by cool trickles from the unfettered brow.

Tooth fairies were now referred to as Dental Extraction Experts Personnel or D.E.E.P for short and Tony had added his own word after it.

Shit.

It had not started well. He had forgotten the anaesthetic and taking a technique passed down the generations, Tony had to resort to clubbing the reluctant patient around the head from behind.

Now half way through he had discovered he had taken the wrong tooth out and Colin the King’s Crocodile had woken and was staring at him with two beady eyes.

Colin had never heard a crocodile growl before.

“Nice weather we’re having …..”

An expression on a memory of watching my brother walk to his car in very heavy rain after a family reunion. My sister and I watched from the doorstep until he had gone outside our view; sent the best wishes of our hearts after him.

Strange to think, I would have made the same slow walk with indifference to the rain.

The Rain Of Noah

The artery pumps curved horses,
one armed men under black mushrooms
Turns half naked chimps to rats to run into the shadows.

Like parents we watch, eyes stuck to the back,
slowly he strides no more hurried than a summer’s day
in the vehement rain.

I have ten minutes of my lunch left. Not knowing what to write I thought I would run with the title "Ten Minute Poem" and stick to the time limit. As it turned out, it was four minutes so I renamed it.

This is off the cuff, thinking on the feet and an expression of that frustration that time sometimes can help you write and other times there is just not enough of it for you to mull on.

Four Minute Poem

I need an eternity to feed my mind.
More time; another dime to roll through my fingers

to ponder on
and wander with through the sea of thought before its gone.

You will not wait
I trust my pen to fate that the ink will run

fire bullets like a gun in the dark
and yet still hit every mark.

I have now got the habit of keeping every photo I take unless its completely a solid color (black, white, etc).

The reason is I have found it quite interesting playing with them in Gimp. Sometimes you can find that a disasterous photo actually makes a useful background or sometimes you can produce something different from the original with a bit of playing and make it more presentable.

I must stress I have no idea what I am doing in Gimp as you can probably see (i just wandered around the menus). It is an improvement on the original image!

The original image was a picture I took in bad light of myself, which had colour blurr and suffered from camera shake.

So do not throw away those blurred, smudged images, etc, you never know what you can do with them.

Not every "Pharoah" is dead when they are buried but one way or another they create their own tomb.

The following is inpsired by writing the number 5 in an email, which then caused me to think on the number and revise it. It was a private email and a deeply personal matter hence I will not go into further detail only to say I could not reply in full without writing a novel.

The Seventh Pharaoh

They built four walls
turned the roof to a dagger

Laid the Seventh Pharaoh dead
left him to his tomb

while they lived on
Free from his eyes

Naughty story. Naughty poem. Well its been a while since I wrote one so maybe its a bit overdue and I might be out of practice but well you never know until you try.

Scarlet Passion

Astride she fits
soft as peach lips.

Naked as kisses
she ebbs and flows

turns Pathos to Pan
with the juices of Eve.

This photo is a favourite because it reminds me of my childhood. We would often clamber over the fallen trees at the bottom of the "second" dell at Lyndon Park in the spring, summer and winter when they were fresh or covered in snow or frost.