WAR: I Dreamt of a Big Headed Baby (draft)

I dreamt of a big headed baby
a toddler already learnt to walk
old enough to understand
 and do as its told
but not enough to talk
I saw a picture in my head
 babies crawling on the ground
on leashes like dogs
 being led into a fog
families of the disappeared
taken and never found


All in a row, babies lined up like ducks
semi-automatics across their backs
pistols in their hands drool on their lips
 and soft pink kevlar jackets

I heard a story from Bobby once
I believe it so it's true
 a covert mission, a bus, a compound
soldiers ordered to close their eyes no visable will to denounce
 it's true
mothers' breasts sliced off and thrown in mounds
of babies skewered on metal forms
al sheron condemened his Israelites
another shamed secret found
from the book of torn


In Vietnam the average age was nineteen
 sent to wage a war on man
but the Vietcong were smaller
  the tunnels the height of which only
wee babies there could ran,
 they are the width of hips
the traps all set to provoke and poke
and spike and maime and spit
A baby blows bubbles whistles and laughs
oblivious of his shit
Happy to sit in poo while somewhere
 someones elses son rubs his hands and points
and whispers I want you too

•Morelia cemetario 2010- Mexico

•Morelia cemetario 2010- Mexico
For me it's a curious thing
To come from the flesh
To feel a life wash over my skin
A pebble Amidst a lost river of people
Flowing far from their source
To hard urban jungles
That strangle the earth
A million beating hearts march
Two feet close to the earth
When decay finally rolls up
As the foam washes the shore
A billion unheard poppings
Of seeds that are no more

In this urban jungle place
Where nobody sleeps
they build tiny houses
And once a week do sweep
Away the dust and earth gathered
Around their corazon
The transient tissues
Of paper and flesh
Once born are all now gone
A curious thing don't you think
Not a clever little trick
That at the source of the river
We try to hold nothing with brick
The steel fleur de leas garnish
A glass fragile coloured cross
And the trees take root on rafters
To show that you are lost
We travel separated
away from the one source
But all rest as one together
in places not south
And not north
Not inside the houses we visit
And so tenderly do sweep
But inside each one of these bodies
we curiously keep

The Road to Potosoi

The Road to Potosoi
Ribbons of birds
Float silkily through the evening sky
Over a mecano San franciscan pueblo
Power housing rows of lies
Insignificantly ordered
Beneath the sinking suns majesty
We pass the seering sierran ridges
Our lights now burning
The soon black sky

If you I.D yourself to me

If you
I.D yourself to me
I will know your name.
If you
talk to me
i will know who you are
If you
listen i will know you care
If you
do care i will too
If you
don't care i'll still be there
Wondering who you are
and what if you were

•The difference between me

•The difference between me
and the white on the tree
Is the ants climb up me.
The xylaphone mariachis play
As the cars shudder over judderbumps
The chaotic harmony of wood over metal as they compete to
Fill the spaces left by the plaza church bells
Uneasily complementing the birds jumping like notes atop the white
based trees,
their long fanned black tails marking time with their shrills of sharps
and flats
And lastly the thrill of the trill of the traffic policepersons
whistling
The shiny Spongebob and hart balloons
And the shiny church, the Palmas in the plaza...
and the palming of blue maize tacos
A cool dusky evening, air tainted with roasting coffee
This Is the union between air
and what matters
take me back to orizaba
Where the white on the tree is me

•Keep off the grass

•Keep off the grass
The bees are courting the flowers in the tress
The ants on their daily marathon,
Eating cutting walking
The nameless winged insects too small to catalogue
Infinite numbers of them
gracefully filling the spaces
where we aré not
The finely spun spider silk
cascading between grass stalks
High as kaula lumpar
Empty shells left by flirtatious shy squirrels
All busy in their micro cosmos
Keep off the grass

•Simply said

•Simply said
I wished i were dead
After three years of hiking
Where nothing was said
Different voices and different tongues
Strolling avenidas
Climbing the villas
Parking my carcass
In my hammock on vistas
Waking up on the streets
Sleeping on beaches
Not waking up as dead
As the lone mosquito on my foot
Dengue for breakfast
it's just not for me
I climb down from the flamenco view
I stare at the citadel sky
The morning blushes to see me
And Venus quietly leaves the room
My head banging cachasa rythyms
And black beer anecdotes
And detangle my web catcher
From the cut tail of a caught kite
A paper-cut tounge now ever silent

Chili burn notices

Chili burn notices
Shivering street dog getting cozy mendoza cuddles from Kate
Fruit and veges at the border choclo the sniffer dog
Not mine but The fine is fine
Always disorganised, misinformed
Took a day to discover The kitchen
'no you wait, we can die!'
Romeo falls off stage
but not on his sword
Thundercats vs rugrats
Silver malecate banging the cop car being pursued down the street
Toothpaste fights & pisco sours
Lost passport and actor M.I.A
Plucking eyebrows whilst crossing The Andes
Back home to Bs As
Just another day At The office..

Beautiful Chile i am a small piece of you

Beautiful Chile i am a small piece of you
Long since removed
You aré a mountain range
And i am of the Landa of the long white cloud
Just as beauty equals mountains
So aré flat Lands to those small enough
To see the road rising before them
Chile 2010

• bracken and straw, cement and steel

• bracken and straw, cement and steel
Past the flat dusty pampas
And the sepia tinted hills of Córdoba
We fly speedily and wingless
The van is our protón
The earth our núcleos
Its metal shell our cell walls
Our soft shells shake and vibrare
Like eggs in a spinning basket
Our minds our nucleous
But not nearly as still
Outside
Amidst the bracken and straw bushes dry, spinefrerous and wasted
Spindly Departementos para pajaritos
Adornar a lado de la ruta
Aves artesanos construí chaotic Rustic condos all comfort y con
califacion
Relatively related Live and loud
static with dusky chatter
Silent High tensión stretching
between the lifeless and leafless trees
Occasionally markers flash below
amongst the wild web of nature
With its myriad of medium and miniture sized stick shaking inhabitants
Mens Red saintly flags
perch borrowedly below
on gods dull bushes
giving shelter to another good fortune saint
We move waiting to arrive
Past another small slice of life
Passing cement houses homes tombs and vaults
Topped across with man made totems
Surrounded by moré non significant totems tensioned with wire
Keeping nothing in and nothing out
Like fish in the desert
bleached and blindly swimming nowhere
We fly speedily wingless
Moving Waiting to arrive

•Im not dead but i am dying

•Im not dead but i am dying
Im not sad but im crying
When i look into my world
I se you running insane
Doinng the same say you don't like
But you speak and your actions
Make me shame
I rather spend a day in a hole
Living with the earth
Than watch you on the tv
Can you see so small
The things where you stand
Your eyes and ego and belly
Aré fat beyond your girth
Happy jolly silly
You aré barely Life on earth

•In the illuminating filtered light of dawn

•In the illuminating filtered light of dawn
She wakes exposed, alone
Still Surrounded by the emulsified sheets
Scented with the chemistry of loves process
But it is her last night in a darkened room
With An open eye to taste
to savour and flavour
She rises and sets to packing
and leaves
Traverses easily and happily
her world beneath the sun
Amongst New Diverse Incenses,
spices and cultures
With irises at full apeture
She sees through shutters
Both Open and closed
And clicks

Skodi Jodi

Skodi Jodi

Crotchless, Skanky, Laughy, Dopey, Sneezy, Doc and you
Snow White was Cocaine 
for my Shoe kicked her Arse and kicked the Rabbit
The Monkey Laughed and kicked my Habit
Seventy plus I may have a Clue-
if I don't drown in my own piss.
I hate that smell, it makes me gag-
and that 'aint funny..

Wife of Riley

Wife of Riley

Too precious many- too many few

I cut you deep- you cut me too

Moments like pictures- in scrapbooks made

Sepia and turquoise- thrown in rivers will fade

Wash it all down with vomit- the bile is base

I stink like shit- I hate the taste

Tommorrows come quickly- I fuck them with ease

But yesterday screws me- and todays just a tease

But whilst words keep on coming- like value and trust

I sneer and forsake them- like unsettling dust

My life is a pittance- a stone dropped in your pond

Soon the ripples will scatter- and then I'll be gone

Friends can't all be lovers- but there's some that you do

And there's some that will do you- If you want them to

Twenty four jump street- Madonna and Depp

Live like young James Dean- and hold no regret

Hannibal Brought the Cannibals

hannibal bought the cannibals





It is easier to live off the efforts of others
but harder to be content with yourself
Mr Riviera, with your many hands
can you not feel the beating heart of Brasil?
do you only have ears for your big bellied family?
Do you not hear the rumblings in the stomach of your country?
The blood is hot but the water is not
Tainua over Tourism
The hungry cannot surf
The Brasilleros and Brasilleras are not your surfs
Their tridents are sharper than your slippery glib tongue
their nets are strong and cast
time to pull them in and fillet
that juicy morsel behind your lips
you see, we could live off the pieces of you

Soulman - RIP

James Brown Gisborne 2006

At the end of the Long & Sandy Stretch of Road,..

Cloudily loomed A Dead-end

the Lightless Eastcape Lighthouse.
Shit!! I Jam the Brakes
and Spin the Wheel

From the Tyres Spit Dust & Scree,

The Seagulls Curse & Dive at Me.

This Road

a Long Snaking Lonliness

My Life

a Venetian Mosaic of Colored Kodak Moments,

the Fragments of Loves & Losses Settling in Silt

Grouted Routed & Sealed.

The Fractured Edges of Today Another Piece of the Puzzle,

How to Break up this Beautiful Fuck up,

Overwhelming in its Countless Subsets......

Speedily losing myself and reclaiming lost km`s
I pass a van & everything slows again
Then I see James Brown Bombed on a Van!
Beaming at Me from the Roadside!

I Beam Back a Smile & I Feel Good Again
His parked smile fleetingly greeted me & mine returned & stayed. I feel good.
I Pass Giving Regard & Thanks & Reclaiming the Lost K's I Reflect

What the Fuk?!!

Serendipity & Syncronicity

NYE 2006

Miles Away in NYC NY NY

Miles of People File

& Pass Past His Casket

Eyes

Filled with Goodbyes

Harts

Swollen with Smiles


so Iman, Rman

Miles Off-Course,

Is Filled Too with Miles of Smiles
Here, in NZ as the Clouds Part Like Curtains for his Scores of Encores
Spot Lights of God-Rays Reprise and Bounce off the Teal Blue Rover & Pacific Ocean
Warming, Dazzling Me and the Coast
Hazes Rise and Fall
Stones & Dust Are Turfed from my Tyres
James Retires Above the Clouds

Tomorrow He

Shall Be First To See The Sun

Before even Gisbourne,

And in the Vineyards Below
We will Dance Tonight
Amongst Gods' Dew and Drizzled Tears of Joy
RIP Soulman

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