Return to innocence

no

I did not need a mirror to see my blood

deserting its own artery for another

nor did I need my flesh flaking

in the view of the public

at the sound of this name or that

the quest?

I need it

to give my soldiers their Caligula

someone to follow to their death

with eyes tightly shut

and fingers clenched to their swords

a pair of cracked lips to sip wine with

from rusty pateras

in the early hours of dawn

before the enemy strikes

my hands?

oh, my hands are innocent

the left will caress young Jew hair

the right will carry on

playing Bach

...

In Paris with You

by James Fenton

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Written by Wislawa Szymborska, read by Flora Coker

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AbFab Holiday (...and this has nothing to do with poetry, is to do with France for God's sake!..)

...and as I return from France , rounder round the hips of course, (they eat carbs down under, you know?) and smelling a lot more like Jean Paul Gaultier than 'fish and chips' I feel already light headed...mmm...something to do with the cheese? (NO - fat is beautiful!)...or maybe with the pain au chocolat consumed in huge amounts every morning (pain through chocolate?: NEVER!) ...so it must be the number of miles from Chateau Lez-Eaux, Normandy to London via the P&O wobbly ferry (driving on the wrong side of the road never helps!)....or no, no, no...let's be honest here: it has got to be the wine - and in France the cheaper the better 'vin de table rouge'...gimmie gimmie gimmie...and they did...for about 1 euro/ bottle (funny that, as they charge 50 cents for using the toilets in some restaurants with lights on sensors on/ off)...
...so I could not resist filming myself and my best friend Patsy trying the 'crem de la crem' of French wine and its consequences...
sweety darlings, je ne regrette rien....

322

afgane, uite ce mişto e afară!

vino să ne iubim pe lire sterline în Greenwich Park

sub stejarii liberi şi groşi

vom face copii cu ochi albaştri ca marea nordului

îi vom învăţa să joace şotron

pe ruta Kabul-Londra-retur

în timp ce morţii noştri 

se vor călca în picioare pentru medalii de tablă

semnate de ultimul PM

vino afghane

împachetează-ţi doar ura 

şi sandalele pline de glezne zbîrcite şi praf

soldaţii le vor spăla cu ochii secaţi de amintirile

celor explodaţi acum 5 minute

lasă-ţi femeile şi copii în bălţile lor de sînge

uită ruinele şi putoarea cadavrelor de sub ele

vom merge în Tiger-Tiger

şi vom dansa pe Soulja Boy Tell’em la buricu’ gol

cu cîte o Stella în mînă

te aştept la 17.00 GMT fix

în king’s cross la starbucks

cînd ţara mea şi ţara ta se pupă pe frunte

în faţă la BBC

cu o mie de pumnale în spate

vino afgane, 

vom bea Earl Grey şi Cappuccino Grande apoi

ne vom lipi tîmplele de la vest la est

cu ultimul glonte plătit din taxele mele

for Queen and country

Allah Karim

What's up, Tiger Lily?

I’m driven by the power of his lower lip

when is still

I’m a mammoth in Ice age

cold

frozen

waiting

wanting

to be discovered

and studied –

(especially my untouched by human

tusks)

when it moves

I turn into a tiger lily

pink petals open up slowly

revealing

the only scent there is

in the rhythm of

a summer minute

that could crush

eternity

and its belongings 

Hazel

în căpruii lui 

marea urla, se tăvălea

ca o femeie în travaliu

născînd 

unul după altul

valuri în spume sepia

pescăruşi cu penele grase de dor

izbucneau intermitent dintre gene

ţipînd din el

întunericul

de m-ar fi privit atunci

universul şi-ar fi ars

toate stelele

într-un singur

rug

da, acolo

Apoi

am deschis ochii...

din pori şi buze

ne curgea abundent albastru

(trăsesem probabil cerul adînc, în plămîni)

sub noi iarba

ne asculta inimile

încolăcite de acelaşi şarpe,

sîsîind

într-o mînă ţineam coapsa udă a rîului

în cealaltă coapsa albă a lunii

între ele pămîntul se rotea încet

ca o linguriţă de argint

în ceaiul cu miere

am închis ochii...

(undeva greierii-şi chemau aproape noaptea)

restul

a urmat

de la sine

The art of losing

losing
and knowing how to is a
Mona-Lisa
painted with
every feeling you own
onto a canvas
you never knew
you had

the more you will stare
into its smile
the less you understand
reason and purpose
integrity dissolves
like an aspirin in a see-through glass
on your kitchen table
nights turn into days
days turn into nothing

your universe cracks
slowly at first
then faster and faster
until nothing else stands
on its feet

the only person you have
in the whole world
is Y O U
don’t lose it
when you lose!

'One art' by Elizabeth Bishop