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I Remember October

instead of writing drunk and carving rhymes out of thin frozen air
instead of trading good repartee whilst still waters run (o’er shoulder’d hair)
instead of laying leylines through the heart of verdant ancestry instead
of laying down, laying aside the laws o’ the land, now-ancient, long-decayed
instead of steady  death of mind, lucidity and honest finds
instead of want of progress, prospectus, profitability
instead of naming naive idealists, escapists, communists – who are instead
real realists truer than those who say they see the world true – truth’s trust
instead of what man makes of her
instead of what man takes of her
instead of want of want, of what one wants what one wants of one – what does one want of one, instead?
instead of big words, harbing penultimate umbrage, fabricate,
instead of prosecution, seek peace now, browbeat discerningly
instead of belittling the small things that make us human again
instead of deification of glorified inconsequentials –

Instead I find solace in ash-free, salt-strewn, sea-wind breezes free –
surf the beauty thus detailed inside the wave of laced skirt,
take flight on chords of Gaea’s song, more ember-forged, raw aged-peat,
lust wandering for ubiquitously forbidden chemistry
set level against rapturous rhetoric for equality and
seeing all the loves that once were, never were, won’t mean to be,
remember October as what she wants, once, long ago had meant,
foretold by wise ones, cup twice drained, breast winter-filled, storm angry,
flowing as rivers through the canyons carved
so patiently by ink
made painstaking as
harvest from warm bosom of fresh Hermes’ wit,
believe!
repeat! – what would veracity be ceteris paribus,
what time, made in our image, how blind conscience’s tide has swept us thus.
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I Remembre Decembre

I remember December – sombre slumber, amber thunder, limber Sarabande timbre
solemn, an omen, a moratorium, in memoriam, si vis pacem, para bellum,
silence, an abscence, scents of incense, pretense of license, reminiscence – but extravagance immense,
feminism, fanatical schism, imperial dogmatism, solipsism, prism metaphysical, procreationism, blind criticism
the mind rescinds, rewinds, per truisms unwind, resigns over procrastination, chance opportunism,
swim, pine, dance
spin, turn, remind, sigh, play, push, tinker, cheer, joy, sheer, fall and call,
storm and dry, cats and drang, hung out to dream, gone to the disco,

a dog’s deluge, death’s demise – December’s door

I Remember 2015

A poem a month I strive
to as little from others, derive –
to piece word by word
most not too absurd
a legible mess, contrive

Taut phrases, rather trite,
won’t live to see the light
like sweet silence, golden,
the author, emboldened,
thinks what we might – makes write.

In time this little game
for money, or for fame,
for followers rabid
or comments insipid
or fans that appear all the same.

It thus goes, any bloke,
in any tongue wrote or spoke,
might make up a scene
of what-may-have-been,
or maybe, a wannabe joke…

A poem a month I strive,
towards something realised, I drive –
a stanza right here,
a line for my dear,
in 2016, we arrive.

Novemremember: I Remember November

To force a child to sit and writ
Is in itself no easy feat
What one would yield a manuscript,
Drives foolish youths to lie, to cheat

Speak cacophony of uncouth –
Cross the line and you’re in shit
A sweet word here would calm and sooth
Admission of defeat, acquit

To err is man, forgive divine,
Good artists forge, great artists steal
Yet striking keys of ivory fine
Hails hammer fall with no appeal

The artisan in cloak of pure
Inside a product borne of swill –
This mind, no reason sound could cure,
perceived only others’ ills

As catching wild thoughts in a gale
Which leafs through indexes unseen
My choice it seems has faded pale
A generation washed and clean

Thirty days hath November
But not one dedicate to thus
My choice I’m scant to remember
A rabble’s head, a fulsome fuss

I remember May when September comes

A decade and a half, a younger me,
One so naive and silly,
Thought hard of voting for my chairman
from a candidate pool of one
chosen by my instructor-in-charge –
I thought it was great fun.

A decade, a teenager me,
finding my place in JC
Told to vote for my chairman
by my deskmate, (a desk has two)
One year hence another asked (the air)
“why did I vote for you?”

Then half a decade hence, and I
remember May nights chocolate skies
Torn between the exams of the day
and sentiments of night.
Why did I have to decide
against something that was my right?

Now there lays just half a day
till, for Parliament, I’ll have a say
Taken to task for choosing fair
for jobs, for roads, for covered walkways new.
Do I have the answer now,
to my forebears, fellows – to my heirs?

I Remember July

fifty vehicles,
ten black ribbons, three red balls.
one red-and-white flag

I remember heat
I remember July, (June?)
I remember peace;
I remember thinking hard,
I remember haze

society tries out
nuclear option on a child,
and a discharged nurse.

We Remember June

June was a time of me, myself, and I
remember June for all the joy it brought to you and me
for all that comes before is hopes of holiday,
hopes of freedom, flight, rejuvenation
We remember June now that we remember nature –
she who giveth us life taketh it like the
heavens taketh water, and giveth us ice;
as the sun gives us gold and the moon silver –
and only silver may man wield over another’s tomb
and only earth (from whence we came) may take us once again.

I Remember March

See seasons pass with every year while
people seem to stay, once or twice they
seem to fade away, but if you pay
attention their voices may appear (as songs drawn in a binder)

“Selamat pagi”
(Selamat pagi, auntie)
“开窗係 ‘bang’ 个一声“
(and I laugh – puns become my defining factor)
“ah, Pharmacy!” with a grin round the face
(and I grin back, without lack of irony)
“…handsome boy…”
(Auntie, what happened to you? Did you see a doctor?”

I, of course, sometimes remember March,
and sometimes others do when they see me:
congratulations, cake, and sweets, warm my
heart like tea, on a parched, dry, Winter

In birth we think of nothing but
the day that comes tomorrow –
in Life we think of even less the more we do
(time borrowed) thoughts deemed luxurious are cut (like ties)
but do remember each lies equal when dear Death accepts our legal
application – as do stars return to stardust,
so do we.

In Memoriam

I Remember January

Nursery

Morning was the sweetest time that dulcet
gilded blanket washing over the still-cold earth – I remember the dew resting still-asleep on
beds of grass waving in the gentle wind, adorning the faces of the beauties that were
Morning Glory wound around a green chain-linked fence

Sometimes, mushrooms of some sort or other would (after politely inviting themselves in, in the previous, rainy, night)
drink (in moderation, of course) from the still, wet earth
or from the still-wet bark, in rings, rows, winding pathways of white- and wood-duochrome
sometimes red (but rarely! those were the radicals)

Of little notice did they have of my little disturbance, passing by in my little way in my little time –
they lived a life of peace and nature, a span equivalent to the briefest eternity
as measured by the passing of the sun,
its golden waves of comfort nurturing their little souls; and mine.

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I Remember February

A Concrete Path Ran Through It

State Land

I remember the fields of superheated cow grass
screaming for rain while I stepped, myself dehydrating, over its browned brethren
soft drink in one hand, the other empty just like my mind while
crossing the great expanse of heat

in my trusty satchel lay the fruits of my boyish recreation
collectibles, cards, coins, crap that adults immediately labelled as
wastes of money
wastes of time
Satanic (I wasn’t even atheist then, not to mention Satanist)
but the land did not judge, just as the Sun does not judge – it shines on
all
burns all in its characteristic silence.

Now it burns nothing, instead shining its bright holy light
illuminating all that is good – that is, shops, supermarkets, capitalism
all that adults immediately label as
daily economic drivers
daily bread
a breath of fresh air
breathed into the land of waste
and reincarnated as the land of want.

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