mrgiles

Poems.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

5

when sarah can
          finally
     say that word

the world will end


          a hot ball of atomic flame
               will burst out of her mouth
     and burn everything within a two hundred and fifty kilometre radius to a golden brown crisp

the people there will be the lucky ones
because then the disease will spread
                              outwards

monstrous deformations will be observed in new-born babies
older citizens will shake uncontrollably
to death
     but perhaps most horribly
     even the strongest of men will suddenly weaken
     and start crying in the streets


sarah will gently stride among the wreckage

     looking




Sunday, October 23, 2005

yoghurt from jesus

it was right after
     a whopper with bacon
thats when it happened
     yoghurt from jesus

     i got yoghurt from jesus

he had descended from the heavens
on a pale white cloud
     he had come as the tiger
     
with yoghurt for everyone

     i finished the little bottle
               with one gulp
     threw it in the bin

inspired

Saturday, October 22, 2005

4

          sometimes she gets so eager to talk

her mind keeps spinning
               she can say it better

     say it better
     say it more
     different things
          beautiful and funny
from her world
     that perhaps all those busy men cant see

but that hot ball of speech
          like always
can never be forced up her throat
     remains there burning


sometimes they seem to be looking
straight at her
     so she pretends she knows what      
     to do in their world

flicking thru a book
     or looking around like shes waiting for someone
hoping to avoid their accusations
               suspicions

she gets out of it cleanly
          most of the time
and can get back to looking out at that bright noisy world
a tourist with no voice
smiling almost at the people that move by her

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

.

for the love of everything
          you cant say

night drops
solidify on your frame

     their starkness haunts dark corners
                    you inhabit

     with the rocking of memories
               you twist and shake

     it could be said
          you wanted it even
                    after the fact

its going to be one of those things
          you have to pull through

to have a grasp of the experience at all
     
     you meld with forms around you
until you is a word with weight
          indistinguishable
from the rest

maybe thats just what
          you wanted
               in the end

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

3

today was a horrible day

     when sarah found herself
               materialised in a park
     soft green slightly wet grass and ants
she found a place to sit
     to try and read more of her serious book

but then this man appeared
     a man with an angry red face

stared at her
     addressed her politely

     and while she was struggling
          with that hot furball of speech
the mans face got redder
                angrier
until he started to scream at this girl who wouldnt acknowledge their rules of talking

his two feet firmly planted in the soil
     throwing those earhurting packets of hate into her face
     with words she could almost make out

later
     when she appeared again
          walking down a main road in the city
she kept looking over her trembling shoulder
to make sure that righteous man of hate had not reappeared

he would move on to stalk her days
continuing to push her inability up into her face

Thursday, October 13, 2005

2

sarah cant quite remember
          what country she has
where her home is
     or what her parents
               if she has some
          actually do

     theres something like a hurt of memory
               at the back of her head
     that can never quite become a thought

inside her head there is a haze as well
she sometimes cant concentrate on the matter at hand
so halfway through washing the dishes
               or watching tv

          shell stop
                   dumbfounded
          looking at the hands in front of her
          wondering if theyre her own

her little house is a mess
a visitor wouldnt know where to sit

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

sarah

sarah

she is wistful
     voiceless
dark hair which the world wisps in waves
     determined in her silence
her hope is a quiet buried kind

     she looks out at the world
          through those thick frames of cloudy glass
     somehow a step further back from all of it

          slow anxiety released from the fine tips of her long fingers

she has sex
     but it is a distant one
          seeming to belong
          to another body

she is a fragment
          there sometimes
at other times the enabling interactions arent there

a quiet desperate
          toneddown sense of humour
          turning her full lips slightly up