Placebo Effect

I wanted to talk.

The urge was so strong

Felt like it was ready to spill over

From my eyes,

Out my mouth to the first passer-by,

From my hands, my hips, my feet.

So I wrote.

I needed company.

Desire burned inside me

Like the sting of a mutant wasp.

I was ready for anyone.

Didn’t matter who-

Short, tall, balding, poster-model refugee,

So I watched TV.

I sought understanding.

An ear to hear, an eye to catch

The things I needed off my chest

But which fear kept off my tongue-

The sorrow and uncertainty,

The thoughts that keep me awake at night.

And so I waited.

I craved closure.

Self destruction mechanism diffused,

Disastrous chapter closed

Turn over to a new page-

Habits to change, addictions to break, mind to reprogram-

But hard to do,

So I slept.

I hungered for Soul Food.

The empty calories of placid conversations,

Mindless outings,

The inane, random chatter

On subjects about as important as pancake batter-

How I be, who be she, goings on about the weather.

So I kept myself busy.

Finding isolation in a quiet corner,

Consoling a cup of coffee-

And why not a doughnut or two?

Transference, denial, avoidance-

Vices and coping mechanisms,

Delusional solutions and false fixes

On which I depend

Til I can face it all head-on

And get off this

PLACEBO.

Thaw In Picture Form

Just felt like sharing this video slide show- which has a few pictures of the town of Besançon (France). Hope you enjoy it.

The Rhythm of absence

In and out,

Forward and back,

Like waves on a grainy seashore

Silvered by the beams

Of the wide, greedy moon

Toying with her flexible lover-

Pushing and pulling

In ancient cyclical time.

Left and right,

Up and down,

You tug at the edges of my mind

In similar regular motion:

Intense and gentle,

Yet only half serious,

You ply my malleable will

Into acceptance;

Then quickly pull away-

A clean, premature click

That leaves me unfulfilled

Yet unable to shake my desire.

These ghost-like appearances-

Phantom interventions-

chill and haunt me.

Your ethereal presence

materialises only in your absences:

Here, then not.

Beside me, then suddenly far away.

Like prairie grasses

Rippling and swaying

In the playful caresses

Of a mischievous breeze,

Then left in motionless expectation,

Waiting for the next breath

To set them back asway.

But the pattern has become familiar,

And loneliness, a pet vice.

So that even were I to break free

From this rhythmic circle,

My life would lie limp

and lifeless,

Dull and still like a moss green pond

Whose surface only ripples

With the fleeting assaults of passing clouds.

And so I live.

From absence to presence

To disappearance renewed.

Content to move along with the tide;

Feeling no remorse

And no resentment.

Just going with the flow,

At one

With the rhythm of your absence.

Elemental

Steady feet, cars, planes or jets 

Streaking cloudy trails across blue heaven

Doesn’t matter to me.

I would be content riding the channels

In low barges

Or hitchhiking on European highways

So long as I stayed in motion.

I am a wanderer,

A travelling bard,

A roaming minstrel,

A nomadic warrior.

A rolling stone,

Calling no one place home for too long

Content to gather no moss.

A child of water,

Lithe and untamable
Am I,

Never fixed or limited,

Breaking free of confinement,

Reborn from stagnant pool as vapour-

A tenant of the air,

Bourne by light currents.

Now wafting upward on warm drafts,

Now pushed downwards

In cold, dense masses,

Changing hemispheres

To eventually come back down again-

As rain falling on lush forests,

Seeing deserts bloom anew,

Or landing atop snowy peaks.

A son also of Earth

Am I:

Brown is my skin-

Recalling fertile land,

Thick is my hair-

Like the dense foliage of the rainforest,

Liquid are my eyes-

A tribute to seaward running rivers,

Hot my breath issuing from deep within-

In memory of the core whence new rock is born.

I am each of these,

Yet belong solely to none.

You likewise are some of this and that,

Yet are the fruit of no one substance.

And thus as tiny fragments,

Each important yet insignificant,

We come together,

The handiwork of Master Skill,

Woven into the network we call life.