Silence 2

I dream of the orange-red-blue coals of my childhood or is it my future?

I sat on one line a while determined not to rush, well actually just dog tired & sleepy

I’m trying to work with silence, the quiet where as yet I haven’t found the rhythm

Well there are many pauses for starters, we must walk away from the poem & do something else

You cannot force things, as forcing things makes a clunky sound, like someone helping you through gritted teeth

Prepare for such noises as you grow older & require caring for

Relax the temples lower the shoulders seek not to possess the rhythm

The problem for man is once he’s located an idea, he seeks to narrow the perspective & frame

& cease being attuned

One must remove expectations, caring not if the poem is written or not,

If anything real is to be achieved beyond merely completing a task at the cost of existence/nature

I had combative dreams last night & woke up angry, maybe that’s why this isn’t quite working

I’m too full of rinse to be able to dream the clear & enter by the eye & ear towards silence

God help empty me of my chagrin I want to begin with an open breast

But wanting to listen is not the same thing as a selfless ear, not passive but attuned

There’s now stripey leggings in my periphery which is different

Sometimes it takes an action of another or nature to enliven the quiet

To let it feel fresh again, like the fizz of a rare lemonade to an 8 year old child

It’s 8.14am & some coloured light has come to meet the grey outside

It rained much of the night, my night of dreaming about fights & arguing my case

But today, the shackle to public opinion is rightly undoing & I seek to become tender to my enquiry

My experiment with my local environment, what I can see over the fence

I guess yesterday popped a little coz there was a little fiction, it sounds like I’m taking myself

Way too seriously & so my chainsaw sings a funny song in actions like charades, my silent crystal & titanium chainsaw

& the light comes out behind the veil of curtain nevertheless the morning is brighter now 8.22.

I wanna put some music on now, this baby is cooked.

Mel From Melbourne - Music & Words