My Meeting with the Guru (1999)

At Uni as the 80’s drew to a close I met a man who
Taught me something I’ll never forget

I turned up at a party at a house near campus
Dropped my beers in the bath full of ice
Cracked one open
And went to mingle

Wandering through the familiar pungent smoke I felt slightly out of place

Having worked for a year before going to uni
I was a year or two older
And slightly more cynical
Than most of my peers

But I had a few drinks
Chatted for a while
Stopped for the occasional toke
And listened to whispers of a guest at this party

I heard tell of his genius
Of how enlightened he was
And decided to head for the room where this
Giant was holding court

As I wandered up the hall the smoke
And the alcohol
Got the better of me
I had flashbacks to Apocalypse Now
Felt like I was heading up river to see Kurtz
And I wondered what this meeting would become

I found the room
Joined the people on cushions
Passing joints, listening, asking questions
And talking to the man

He was a wonder to behold this
University
Guru

He looked as though someone in a lab
Had tried to cross a hippy
A surfer
And an American college professor
And had failed
Producing a look that those around me
Members of a generation with no solid identity of its own
Thought was pretty cool

But was basically a 30 year old art student in bad 70’s retro

And I with my budding biology degree
Learning how living things function and interact
Sat talking with this man of letters
This man who had spent 12 years at uni learning

Things

We talked of philosophy
Of literature
Of psychology
We talked of many things as we
Sat in that haze of smoke and alcohol

And he showed me that he knew
A lot about
A lot of
Things

And he blew the minds of those around him as they
Sat
Rapt
Hanging
On his every word

And I took something from that room that I still think about today

A decade later

As I wonder if somewhere on that campus there’s a
40 year old
Art student impressing
Teenagers
With the things he’s learnt

As I wonder if he remembers our meeting, the
Flicker
Of uncertainty that crossed his face when I said
I know who you are

Or the smile of relief and satisfaction as he
Misunderstood
My explanation that he was the shepherd
And these were his sheep

If he remembers me saying that he’d taught me
Something
And that I must thank him
The glow of self-importance that
Came over him
As he inhaled my thanks

Or the self satisfied grin as he asked
What did I teach you?

But I doubt he remembers my answer

That he’d taught me never to confuse knowledge with intellect

Shelly's world

She was walking towards me
on the street
and she was beautiful
her hair
make up
entire ensemble
immaculate

made me stop dead in my walk
to the tram

do not misunderstand
I was not on the pull
did not wish to talk
her into tryst
or otherwise

but when she passed
I stopped
and said
“darling, you look great”
paid compliment to
pertinent aspects
of her apparel

her reaction was one
of such indignation
and aggression
I may as well have said
I wanted to violate her body
right there on the street
when I was done with her mum

and I was displaced
misplaced
within shelly's peach melba hat
except that it was the subject that
berated me
to point of calling police
for crime of simple compliment

in face of her tirade
I held up hands
confessed that while I was
inebriated
my comment
was not meant to
initiate contact
I had not asked her name
and I was heading home
in opposite direction

but that i'd thought
that she was such
and obvious effort made was such
that pause for simple
appreciation
was warranted

and moving on I wondered
why
and I wondered
when
we lost the simple
capability
of simply paying
compliment

and then I remembered shelly
and the snow drop kid
so many years before

and mourned for a time
I am too young
to remember

Big man sings my blues - for Rory

Some parts of this may be a little contrived, but if ya don't know his music, you won't get it anyway. (http://www.roryellis.com/)



The unsheltered part of the beer garden
Is near empty

There are various groups under the
Covered part loudly
Playing pool
Watching the footy
Listening to the juke box

But I am out in the cold
Slight rain
Waiting for the big man on the stage
To open his throat

He does not disappoint

He never does

My voice is a waterfall
Pouring out along with his
A smile hurts my jaw

I only notice the rabble
Between songs
In the quiet anticipation

He hits a blues chord
And two lone dancers
Hit the floor before the stage

He’s leaving again
Touring the UK where they have
The taste
To know his work

This is his last gig in
My town for a while
But I smile knowing that
Some day
Some way
Some where
I will see him play again

But for now he battles
The racket
For there
Is
Love in
This war
Against the juke box
Sport on the telly
And the locals talking
Over
The few of us
Here
For him

For the music man

Consummate professional
Continuing to tell the stories of his music
Put his all too
Human
Face to the songs

Right at the end
The crowd realise
What I’ve known
For a decade
And hit the floor
Request encores when
He stops

Now understand as I do

That when a voice a big as
His heart
Rings out I don’t need
Two feathers

I know how to fly

And I realise that
I’m not out in the cold
After all

Form

Your existence encounters mine
Minefield of potentiality for intensity
Intensity of gaze as eyes meet, meld, colours mingle, borders blur, see as one
As one our hearts beat in unison, unity, tandem pumping of life’s fluidity, voluble valvular, virtuosity, virtuality beyond reality
Reality of hands held, palm in palm, flesh on flesh
In flesh I experience you, feel you, within, without, withholding nothing
Nothing hidden from thoughts that float across the rippled waters of our minds
Mindful of the path we tread down the long dark corridors of idea
Ideals unattainable but never to be forgotten
Forgetting that which was in our path on the road to where we now intersect, introspect, converse
Conversing, conspiring, not tiring
Tiring of your company not considered among the possibilities of this world
Worlds colliding, colluding, alluding to something together
Together as one, under the sun, stars, heavens above our joined being
Beings merging, emerging, converging, verging on unity
Unity of life, life essence, essential to living
Living in wonder, this wonderful, this wondrous beauty
Beauty inherent in its natural form
Form that is us

Lest we forget

I'm sure I've posted this before, but it is the day for it.

'Rememberance Day' at Poets Against War site

It stings so bad

I am sick of the clap

And I’m not talking about that nasty infection that bitch gave me that time
I got ointments and some nice pills for that and it cleared up just fine

Thank you very much

I mean this reflexive slapping of
On hand upon the other
Every time someone stands to read
Regardless of what they say and do

I am sick of the recognition clap
The reflex clap
The supportive, good on you for doing it
Clap
That makes bad poets think they were good
And good poets think you were listening

Give me your silence
Give me your pause
That time for recognition
Give me some sign
Of words being registered
Not just passing
Into ear and through
Down your arms
Making them flail
Come out as

*CLAP*

Give me…

Bitter Sweet Symphony

She tells me she’s so excited, can’t wait to go
I spoon the crema from my espresso
Into my mouth
Smooth coffee bitterness swallowed slowly

She reminds that we’ve got a month or two together left
I smile, acknowledge
My spoon slowly stirring, sugar dissolving
Taking the edge off the bite

She encourages me to come visit, it’s really nice
I nod, stop stirring
Put the spoon down
The sweetening complete

She holds one of my hands, smiling
My other lifts the glass to my mouth
Drinking deep, heat enters, suffuses through me
Artificially enervated

Looking into my eyes, she suggests we go home
I drain the glass
Savour all I can get
The tip we leave minimal