Monday, 28 May 2007

The Language-Tree of the Feral Child

I broke the surface, ranged antennae bright,
Limbs of quicksilver eagerly outstretched,
And waited. Just be patient; they will come.
Stay ready to interpret. Surface to depth.
All combinations possible.

This is the time, by rights, they should be here,
Marching the night in rank – I dread I’m deaf
Or broken. I will try harder. I can hear.

I scour for sense, drill deep, crack meaning’s bone,
Fine-comb for syntax strands of howling noise
From dogs and such, or storms from void to void.

I failed my sole task, through no fault of my own,
Waiting for you, as my bright awakening morn
Darkened to baffled horror.

David Ruaune


copyright

Revenge Of The Rose

Who first made of me emblem, doomed me thus;
Early bloom, suitors pluck impatiently
Stems like helpless arms, raised up, aghast,
Give no protection. The gift of my little death
Works wonders, means he means it, seals the deal.
False hearts or true, all take too easily –
Blossoms; too open a face, that sets aflame;
A heart come apart, wrecked rupture, inside out.
Thorn cannot save me, yet if rude hands, too sure,
A gash I’ll give – you too can bloom, vain boy.
May he forsake her. May she break his heart.
I’m red as lust, as blushes, red as blood,
As rage; I am the rose and thorn of love –
And whether I die for true love or pretend,
I’ll be your pitiless God, your crimson end.

David Ruaune


copyright

from Search For My Pudding

You ask me what I mean
by saying I don’t know the word
for what comes after the main meal,
I ask you, what would you say
if you had three tongues in your mouth
and the first one called it pudding
and the second one called it dessert
and the third one doesn’t care what you call it as long as it gets to taste the bloody thing.
Sweet is an alternative
but sounds like your nanna avoiding saying pudding
in a cafe in Rhyll.
Afters is simply a shamefaced euphemism.
One could simply say
“Have we got anything else?”
but that makes you sound like
some arrogant wife-beater.

If I say dessert,
I feel like a Volvo driver.

I’ll try to spit it out
(If that’s the right phrase
when you’re talking about food...)

лПהח כװף ئعك лфש صغى

(mamis thureni puddin?)*


Really I couldn’t care less if anyone thought
I was muck for saying pudding it’s
just a trifle
annoying if they think you’re
saying pudding to prove a point
like
pretending to work down a pit, or
something.





*A phrase I have often overheard. The usual reply is “Not until you have eaten the main course, my child.”

Sunday, 27 May 2007

Brokenbrow and Havenhand

“Brokenbrow and Havenhand”
Brass-plated, fixed upon the door
One phrase the two, yet seldom seen
Together now, for many a year.

Brokenbrow, the elder partner,
All must pass; He will not smile -
Furrowed in subtlety, each year harsher,
Sharp as a paper-cut, never still

Beneath the tomes of precedent
Old Brokenbrow would pace the floor
Whilst outside in the cold and snow,
Havenhand failed to help the poor.

But who’d have thought – look to the bar!
Arguing council, church, and mill,
Drunken in subtleties, loud yet obscure,
Avid and stubborn, wrangling still.

David Ruaune.


copyright

Friday, 25 May 2007

Favourite poems by other people

...
I will be adding some comments on the poems below soon, but for now simply include them as favourites.



anyone lived in a pretty how town

by e e cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)
they said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain



They Flee From Me

by Sir Thomas Wyatt

They fle from me, that sometyme did me seke
With naked fote, stalking in my chambre.
I have seen theirn gentill, tame, and meke,
That nowe are wyld, and do not remembre
That sometyme they put theimself in daunger
To take bred at my hand; and nowe they raunge
Besely seking with a continuell chaunge.

Thancked be fortune, it hath ben othrewise
Twenty tymes better; but ons, in speciall,
In thyn arraye, after a pleasaunt gyse,
When her lose gowne from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her armes long and small,
Therewith all swetely did me kysse,
And softely saide: "Dere hert, howe like you this?"

It was no dreme: I lay brode waking.
But all is torned, thorough my gentilnes,
Into a straunge fasshion of forsaking;
And I have leve to goo of her goodness,
And she also to use new fangilnes:
But syns that I so kyndely am served,
I would fain knowe what she hath deserved.



Into My Heart an Air that Kills

by A. E. Housman

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.



Pied Beauty

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things--
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.



Fairy Tale

by Miroslav Holub

He built himself a house,
his foundations,
his stones,
his walls,
his roof overhead,
his chimney and smoke,
his view from the window.

He made himself a garden,
his fence,
his thyme,
his earthworm,
his evening dew.

He cut out his bit of sky above.

And he wrapped the garden in the sky
and the house in the garden
and packed the lot in a handkerchief
and went off
lone as an arctic fox
through the cold
unending
rain
into the world.

Thursday, 24 May 2007

Lyrics

You’ll Be In Bed For Days


And Then You Realise

When the music changes that they’re playing
And you shift the final gear in what you’re saying
Everything slots into place
Then falls apart and into space

Perhaps most people have more underneath
Unless it’s just more reachable or doesn’t lie as deep
You know you can’t get home
Without the help of someone
Who might have their own agenda

As you realise
You’ve gone too far
You’ve gone too far with what you’re saying
The words have all poured out
Like you never had a doubt.

You slave and strive to get right what you say
But still it makes more sense, if you read it all the other way
That’s when your final bottle goes
With all your pride and all your pose

Glorious oblivion surrounds you
Like a halo light on everyone around you
You know you can’t get home
Without the help of someone who
Might think you’ve been misleading

And you realise
You’ve gone too far
You’ve gone too far in what you’re saying
The words have all poured out
Like you never had a doubt

The morning will be sinister and strange
Your character and clothes sense will have all been rearranged
The road signs that you see
Wont point from A to B
But now in the majestic blur and glare
Of a hopelessness so absolute and rare
It seems you can’t stop smiling so you
Find something to smile about

And realise
You’ve gone too far
You’ve gone too far with what you’re saying
The words have all poured out
Like you never had a doubt.



Gentleman Astronomer

A big brass telescope stands in the middle of the floor
The fiery orb of heaven goes down
The skylight opens like a magic door
The earth forgotten at your feet
Like a lover that you leave without fear
The stars are like a solemn orchestra
You feel the silent music of the spheres

Gentleman Astronomer
What can the constellated patterns mean?
You’re so concerned with first and last things
And not what happens in between

A maid with plates and trays knocks in the corridor
Then has to leave them outside; she’s annoyed
You’re appetite just goes at night as you go
Swinging through a universe of furnaces and void

Gentleman Astronomer
Map down the latest marvel that you’ve seen
You’re so concerned with first and last things
And not what happens in between

The starry crown of heaven’s queen
A lamp that heralds dusk and dawn
The nebulous majestic afterglow
Of worlds that died before the world was born
Beyond each orbit lies a hieroglyphic sign that’s
Etched somewhere against a darker night
Perhaps the earth moves – perhaps it all moves
Perhaps the candle that burns half as long burns twice as bright

Gentleman Astronomer
What can the constellated patterns mean?
You’re so concerned with first and last things
And not what happens in between



If I Said The Wrong Thing

When did you tell me that you loved me
I know you told me but I can’t remember when
It’s not the way time changes speed depending on how much you need
It’s just the way it twists and turns around the bend

If I said the wrong thing then
I might have said the right thing and
Be dead by now
If I did the wrong thing I know
If I’d done the right I’d
Be in bed by now

There’s a town called Elsewhere and I always want to go there
But every road I take just leads to where I’m going to be
I need someone from that place, to try to tell me face to face to
Stop looking at myself as though I’m not really me

If I said the wrong thing then
I might have said the right thing and
Be dead by now
If I did the wrong thing I know
If I’d done the right I’d
Be in bed by now



Everything’s In Disguise

Everything’s in disguise
Crouched down away behind the eyes
Seems a quiet morning
Policeman yawning but
Everything’s in disguise

I slid down the street past the blind
Pushing and shoving me out of my mind
With grime on my nerves
and dust on my words
Searching for something I just couldn’t find

Because everything’s in disguise
The eyes of the Christ-child are covered with butterflies
Making the world revolve
Just to see how fast it goes
Just to see how fast the fat fries

We talked and we talked all night
We argued and made up and nothing came out of it
I’d ask myself out for a fight
I’d cut off my nose if I thought I’d be rid of it

Because everything’s in disguise
The sultry screen siren flickers and sighs
sequins and lipstick
sequencing this quick clip
Everything’s in disguise

From the dark as the candlelight dies
With its visions its dreams and its
‘Til the noon of the day
Cuts the shadow away
Everything stays in disguise

To the deep where the gambler craves and cries
It’s a put on a put on you can’t be surprised
Keep the angels at bay
In a distorted way
They flutter to sidewalks and can’t seem to rise

We talked and we talked all night
Both misused the language and both got away with it
I asked somebody for a light
She gave me a rainbow I stood at the end of it

All the dreams that money can buy
Make the dumb village idiot witty and wise
The banker’s an artist
The priest keeps his cheap kicks
When everything’s in disguise

Everyone changes size
I look in the mirror it fractures my eyes
Trying so hard to speak
With my tongue in my cheek
Wonder which cup is poisoned and which is the prize

When I turn out the light what do I see
I can’t tell you but I know it isn’t me
Getting by with a lie
And with two getting high
When everything’s in disguise

So don’t try to look in my eyes
They were hidden away
At the start of the day
Everything’s in disguise



Wasted Life

This is a wasted life

The kind of people

You meet at parties

They get on your nerves
Then they step on your toes
Then they work their way up

They get in the car
You get out of the car and
You’re miles from home

And if Stevie comes down again

She will need to be entertained

You tape recorded all our conversations
And you play them back at parties

Picture a wasted life
The kind of people
Your friends are friends with

Picture a wasted life
They change their minds when
They change their perfume / hairstyle

And if Joey comes down instead
She will need to be put to bed
Because Joey can hit a high or low

The kind of people
Who love the hate mail

The kind of people
Your friends are friends with

The kind of people
You meet at parties



Escape Attempts

Down five flights a continuous sprawl
Fuelled by delirium and alcohol
From pillar to post and then straight to the wall
Still it’s better to have tried and failed than never tried at all
Escape Attempts

Escape I’m on a highwire a liveact a freefall a lock and a key
It’s a frightening world when you say that you want to be free
Escape Attempts

She plummets to earth from the glittering wire
Thought she could fly but couldn’t get any higher
He threw himself down for the oncoming train
Morning broke out and then it started to rain
Over two dead bodies in different places
With opposite clothes and the same look on their faces
Escape attempts

Escape I’m on a highwire a liveact a freefall a lock and a key
It’s a frightening world when you say that you want to be free
Escape Attempts

Here’s the truth it can’t be proved
Here’s the truth it hurt me too
Any heroin prostitute’s better than you
Escape Attempts

Little boy wonder turns into a tramp
Living on nothing and paying no stamp
The pain and the dirt the cold and the damp
Still the wilderness calls across the concentration camp
Escape Attempts
Escape.



Closing Down Sale

Everything you hold dear
Everything you hold so close my dear
It’s all got to go
It’s all got to go
It’s all got to go
In the closing down sale

Someone whispered in my ear
Telling me things I wanted to hear
But it all had to go
It all had to go
It all had to go
In the closing down sale

I slept in the dew of a garden like pearls on my face
And dreamed of the Eastern Seaboard
Where even the poodles wear chantilly lace.

I woke to the sound of a bell
Someone had died and was going to hell
and the hammer fell
and his price as well
in the buy and sell
of the closing down sale

The luxury liner got hit by a dredger and sunk
A home is a castle is a pile of junk
and it’s all got to go
it’s all got to go
it’s all got to go
In the closing down sale



Disco In Hell

On the dance-floor someone's getting ground out like broken glass
By a shoe that's made of leather on a foot that's made of plastic;
The mannequins on both sides now, are listening for heartbeats
They need someone to persecute - someone who will appreciate it.

There's a disco in Hell
and you know it so well
Where the tongue of fire meets the mouth of asbestos.
How glamorous. How desperate.

As one pretends to make a joke the other pretends to smile
Contempt behind the laughter lines they hate each other all the while
He'd like to wipe it off her face and turn it to a frown
She'd like to get some golden boy and melt him down, melt him down

Someone wheels round a velvet pillar, glowing with hysteria -
Before the first drink of the night they were quite delirious
After something that doesn't exist and on the verge of finding it
The flames lick round the frozen lips but only want to taste a bit.

There's a disco in Hell
and you know it so well
Where the tongue of fire meets the mouth of asbestos.
How glamorous. How desperate.



Jugular Vein

Sometimes
you can only see a mother
trying to stop her children
playing in the dirt
Sometimes
you can only see someone
laden with tesco bags
getting distraught
Sometimes
you can only see litter
and rainbows and diagrams
keeping them separate
Sometimes
you can only feel
the warmth of a kiss
or of some launderette
wire-mesh chip shops, displaced statues
sunlight on office blocks, the trail of a jet
Sometimes
you can only hear jokes
not what’s crushed up behind them
that doesn’t break through
Sometimes
you can only hear splintering
going on inside of you
Sometimes
you can only see broken men
asking for cigarettes
romantic too
Sometimes
you can only see fingernails
scratching their hopes
down the windowpane
But sometimes
right there in front of you
you can see the jugular vein

Sometimes
you can only see walls and dustbins
the mess of backyards
decomposition
the desperate humour of personal columns
attic rooms overlooking corrugated regions
Sometimes
you can only see a man
breaking down in tears
in the marketplace
razorblades behind yellow wallpaper
an endless queue and a hopeless case
Sometimes
you only look at the river
see flotsam and jetsam
invent correlations
people you know, on a high or a low
precise isolated explanations
Sometimes
you can only see swings
and roundabouts turning
int the pouring rain
But sometimes
right there in front of you
you see the jugular vein

Sometimes
you can only hear ice-cream vans
echoing rag and bone
disturbing your rhymes
Sometimes
you can only hear clocks
with different ticks
from different insides
Sometimes
you can only see people
get themselves in a mess
unsynchronised
Sometimes
you can only see a dog
looking down a grid
as though watching television
Sometimes
you can only see millions
forever out of step
in private indecision
Sometimes
you can only see paradise
dream of how good it is
how it will be
Sometimes
you can only see paradise
weird and wonderful
science fiction reverie
Sometimes
you can only see paradise
only see paradise
only see paradise
Sometimes
you can only see paradise
under a different name
But sometimes
right there in front of you
you can see the jugular vein



I Can’t Take You Anywhere But Down, Baby

Best keep it clean
best walk away
best take a peep
but call it a day
best smile and say
that’s not the way
it’s meant to be

Because I can’t take you anywhere but down, baby,
Fact I can’t take you anywhere at all

It’s overdue
It’s underplayed
It’s broken down
It’s been waylaid
It’s in the shade
It’s not been made so don’t try lying in it

Like the wheels of a juggernaut
Hissing out onto the stormy motorway

Best pull a frown
Best stub a smoke
and pay the clown
and stop the joke
best call the debt
and bounce a cheque
best throw the cards
and void the bet

Because I can’t take you anywhere but down, baby,
Fact I can’t take you anywhere at all.



Ill Wind-Up; Shiny Double Bind

There’s a silly little wind that blows down toytown’s corridors of power
Where children sanctimoniously smile but sometimes seem to cower
Whistling rebellion like a fetish past its sell-by date
To echo in a looking glass where eyes of hate meet eyes of hate

The love lines round your eyes are all extensions of the playground games
Where someone tries to snatch at you in fun but always ends up maimed
And all the previous victims’ names are carved into the entrance hall
And made to sound like heroes cause it stands to sense they must have stood
Before they crawled

Ill-wind up, shiny double bind
I love the ones I hate
I kiss the hand I cannot bite
I kiss the hand I cannot bite

The wind blows out the backdoor well, it wants to stay invincible
It tried to sound prophetic but just came across as irritable
Someone lets the cat out of the bag but it just crawls back in
To open up a can of worms that turn but never leave the tin
And someone says the secret is to make the prisoner love the prison
Then explains how you can tell erotica from cynicism

Look hard, remember every face and then repeat
That you’ve been lied to, cheated and betrayed
And by the very people who persuaded you that this would be the case!



It’s Still A Wonderful World

Everything’s falling apart
I see a new particle and ask – Who ordered that?

If your mother and your father are getting a divorce
It’s still better in the west than in the rest of the world
But you wouldn’t really think it when you’re looking at the scenery
All those systems analysts and all this broke machinery
Even the statues are looking to mutate
The big bang was a big mistake
It started to degenerate
I’m not the one that thought of it first
A bad dose of self-reference - I’ll try not to burst
Hey there’s no more room for a profit on doom
So I’ll say it’s a wonderful world

There’s a hardness and a clearness and a brightness to it all
From inside it’s security
From outside it’s severity
Every nano inch of you and every little pinch of you
Makes it a wonderful world

Everything’s falling apart
From Birmingham to Babylon
Bolton to Byzantium
Structural deformities from boardroom to boarding house
Economies ecologies and all the ideologies
Nothing makes sense anymore
Everything’ll soon be in bits
Buildings half-built when they run out of cash
Markets minds and media are starting to crash
But there’s no more room for a prophet of doom
Demand is saturated though there once was a boom
But it’s still a wonderful world

There’s something inside it all, the tiniest thing
It’s focussed and it’s certain and it shines and it sings
It’s the realness and the realness and the realness of it all,
So unquestionably definitely absolutely

Dave Ruaune


copyright