Sunday, 7 December 2008

The Unicorn

My lady has a unicorn,
That lives on dreams alone;
She brings him roses with silver thorns,
He sleeps on the courtyard stones.
He drinks of glassy waters,
And walks her pathless lawns,
Waiting for the sun to set,
Then waiting for the dawn.

My lady has an orchard
Where the apples never fall -
The sun through leaves is cool and green
And shines on one and all.
The season never changes;
The weather is always fine,
The birds that sing see everything,
And always sing on time.

My lady has a unicorn
She feeds on only words,
On tales of shipwrecked mariners
And chivalry with swords.
He listens, waits for her to call;
She sings so prettily.
Then he grinds his head on the garden walls
And weeps most bitterly.

David Ruaune

"All our bleeding yesterdays,"
of those who dwell on days before,
that's what I hear my father say;
but what's that clawing at the door?

It's all our bleeding yesterdays,
come crawling back for more.

David Ruaune

Switchboard of the Holy Ghost

We are trying to connect you.

Please hold, during the silence.

The person you are calling,

Knows you are waiting.

The person you are calling,

Knows you are waiting.

The person you are calling,

Knows you are waiting, Knows you are calling, Knows you are waiting.

Please hold on
During the silence.

David Ruaune

An Offering
for B, as ever.

What do I bring?
What am I offering?

Fear of myself and my foolishness-
Of saying too little,
Or saying too much;
Clamming or opening up.
Of my childishness or my mannishness;
My heart-aching silliness.
Of thinking I’m clever and then pain
Rearing unexpected yet again
Reeling in traffic and rain.

I make here
An offering of my fear.

David Ruaune

The Society of Friends

Fare-thee-weal, apparat-chicks and dicks,
received wisdom, professional attitude;
No more your fucked-up false-comradely
confident insolence - (fit only
for the carrion-field of a nightmare-history, akcherly) -
You shall not be heard.

True lovers, Bring me the new wine -
We'll mull it by the fire
At our table in the tavern
At the crossroads of this our earth;

With our hearts like open poppies,
Proud of the soul's wound, we shall proceed to build
The Once and Future Society of Friends.

David Ruaune


Saturday, 19 July 2008

Two Angels

Two angels come to visit me;
Their voices weave each passing hour -
One says that all there is, is love;
One says that all there is, is power.

Their branches twine the star-pierced sky,
Their roots the granite rock below;
And which the fiercer devil is,
I guess I’ll never know.

David Ruaune