Goodbye Sweetness 21/10/06

It really was very sweet of you

to not beleive me when

I said I was having a heart attack

maybe it seemed improbable to you

that after so much vigour and passion

my heart, just eight years older than yours

should for no other reason fail

–

The explanation is simple though

from long experience life has taught me

the sighs of a lover that

no matter how enraptured

will one day accept the inevitable and leave

I am not a man worth keeping

that I know, but when you asked if you

could stay forever, that is when

my poor heart broke

–

Broke for the fourth time

each time a little less mended

a little less desirous of a solution

a little gladder to be broken

a little more patient for freedom

a little less concerned about

any minor damage done

–

So it still beats its heavy beat

but when I listen closely

I can hear the accumulation of minor infarctions

which each distinctly alter its rythm

and yours, the latest, is the most obvious

because you were the only one who

I actually wanted to stay

forever…

–

So goodbye sweetness

bonjour mon ami tristess

(welcome sadness my friend)

no one ever needed me

as much as you

no one ever thrilled me

as much as you

please remember to use that smile

till the day you die

it filled me up and healed my world

it erased the demons from my mind

it illuminated the room

with the warmest glow

that I will ever know

Cresanthenums of Many Colours

There are many ways of earning a crust in the modern world. My favourites are; delivering flowers, which i did a lot twenty years ago during my courier van phase, and picking flowers in a greenhouse, which i have never done before but started doing yesterday.

It is simply wonderful how many different colours this one flower comes in, almost as wonderful as the happiness they will bring to people when they are delivered ;-)

Green Litter

This post may be considered by some as virtual trash or cyber junk mail but there is worse to come. I have spent the afternoon letterboxing real junk mail on behalf of, and herein lies the irony, the Green Party.

Fortunately for me the candidate in question, standing for local council, thought his chances improved by the omission any admission of his Green Party membership… so the irony of my sin may have been invisible to the majority of those who spied me in its commission. If you’ll excuse the jargon and the verbosity.

Now i’m going to leave you in peace to recover from the lack of clarity of my meaning and go visit an old friend who passes his time making the most exquisite jewelry but before i go.

Yesterday i attended cricket practise at a local club and thanks to my obvious ability (demonstrated by my striking the batsman in the groin with a curly ball) i may be asked to play for the team!

Sex

Sex is bonding behavior

the young desire it

not understanding how it will transfix them

the rest of us need it

suffer for the lack of it

not understanding that it is

the relationship we desire

–

Love is the result

sometimes warm and cosy with no end

more often stolen and hoarded

manipulated and controlled

but wonderful none the less

–

Now mine is gone

my bed is empty but for me

my heart is empty but for hunger

my life is brown about the edges

like last nights rejected food

but my time is my own again

and my dignity depends upon no one but my self

A Night Amongst The Vineyards

Getting Europe good and drunk is a point of pride for South Australians. Wine is our only major ‘value added’ export and we devote two thirds of our water resources to vineyard irrigation.

The quality of our wine is to our credit. Ten years ago i heard a frenchman on the radio saying that an obvious fault in a wine could be forgiven if the overall character was interesting enough. True, many of our wines were a little loud back then but a bottle of Jacobs Creek from Sainsburies supermarket in South London was excellent value at five quid (pounds stirling).

There is something even better that we have here. The Fleurieu peninsular, where many of the vineyards grow, is similar to the Athena of two thousand years ago. Hot in summer, cool in winter, always the perfect holiday spot. My cousins have a beach house here but last night i stayed with old friends in a house full of children and love.

Today is Taiahas birthday and he has done well for presents. In fact he is doing well generally, being as he is, a competent songwriter and a one day a week organic baker. His parents are so proficient at raising kids that they help me see some areas where i have been going wrong over the past few years.

The vineyards are a financial blessing for many of us but in our increasingly safe state the value of intoxicants is being questioned. For those who have to clean up the consequences these questions are entirely logical no matter how party pooperish they may be. I love the occasional drink myself and, fingers crossed, i think i have at last mastered the concept of moderation.

Waking up amongst the vineyards is a great way to start the day though. The vine leaves set against a background of flat blue sea, just wonderful.

A Poem For a Poor Child. by Taiaha Newnham age 12, 2006

If I was a poor child a hungry thirsty poor child my wish would be this:

A sweet fresh flowing river

A house where people smiled,

I would also like to have known

My brother before he died

A safe environment, clothes and peace

And a place to lay my head to sleep

I’d want my father to have a farm

And for us all to have fair wages,

I’d like to have some coconut palms

And for my pets not to be in cages

I’d like to live someplace good

A free choice of our own

And it would be good to have a “sick mans place”

And medicine for our aches and groans

I’d like us to have a place to learn

And space to live and grow

Yes! That is my wish,

My wish, for the days that come ahead

To make this wish come true!

The Station Cat

This blogging business is most definitely addictive. When deprived of my usual connection i become restless and preoccupied. The need to share my philosophy and poetry has changed from a pre-blog background desire into a need. It has replaced the desire for nicotine, it is overriding my determination not to run a net connection from home and it will probably develop into a dependence directly.

In previous posts i have discussed the benefits of blogging as a confessional. Now it is all i can do to avoid revealing the sad details of the sins and threats which have resulted in the reorganization of my life but i will be strong and regale you with another story instead. Well, this time at least.

The station cat is a pleasant fellow for the most part. He has earned his nickname by putting in as many, if not more, hours on station than a full time paid staff member would. In order to maintain a prompt emergency response for the locals he will spend as much as sixty hours a week on duty. Often he has little to do but watch pay TV and read, just as often he will be running transfers or washing the truck. When something does happen however, the injured or sick will be twenty minutes closer to help thanks entirely to him.

There are of course many similar stories relating to the service. The more of them i hear the more proud i am to have been accepted onto their team and i prey that i can justify that decision starting from the completion of my qualification. Full time training begins next week and i can not wait. If my posts become even thinner please forgive me even more for just a few more weeks. I do desire to blog more, i have confidence that i will soon blogmore, i will be bloggist i promise.

Before i go, a welcome to a new reader, the good Jan who lives two and a half thousand kilometers away and whose conversational style has inspired much of the tone of this blog. Jan has a biodynamic garden and a history of challenging the norm in many different ways. Thankyou Jan for describing my words as lovely, hope you continue to enjoy. Wish i could post transcripts of our phone conversations, some good material there. For the rest of you, more poetry soon.

Other Peoples Problems

Strange is it not how remote and unexciting other peoples problems may seem when you are recovering from a romantic disappointment yourself. Awful memories of being a lonely and depressed youth come back with a flood, trying to claim me, clawing at my psyche.

But this time they will not succeed. This time i find myself alone but not depressed, this time my lost lover left me with a full heart. For two years she has welcomed me into her home and made of me a man worth looking after. She has encouraged me to make the necessary changes, like giving up smoking and buying some decent clothes. She has fed me the tastiest healthiest food of my life and best of all she has needed and accepted my love and support through one of the most difficult periods of her own life.

Truth is her rejection hurts me deeply but this time i have been healed more than i have been hurt, the complements have outweighed the doubts, the hugs have outnumbered the grumps and above all the gentle sweetness continued to the end of the last conversation.

Of course i want her attention back but even more than that i want her freedom to continue, i believe i have helped her to achieve it. Please excuse me while i pat myself on the back… i’ll whip myself in private later for being fool enough to let her go.