Archive for November 2011

I Will Wash 20 Thousand Red Kimonos, Ask Forgiveness and Gain Permission for Them to be Worn   2 comments

I started washing kimonos slowly,
and, only ever by hand
They were so beautiful, delicate
I would wash them in soft water
for hard water was too harsh

I would hang them to dry
in the cherry blossom orchards
where falling blossoms would
delicately stroke each kimono
infusing such a heady scent

Field after field of cherry blossom
So many kimonos floating on the wind
As each kimono would dry, I would
gently fold it and place it on clean brown paper
and tie it up with hand spun string

I would wash these kimono with love and care
though that is not to say they were ever dirty
And after each one was prepared I would find an owner
for the kimono and then gain permission for it to be worn
I would then bow and return to my task at hand


Posted 29/11/2011 by DarKarsean in Musing, poem, poetry, Uncategorized

To Live Within the Self Imposed   Leave a comment

Why do we live within these self imposed
rules which bind us to covenants
to which we no longer ascribe

What is it within us that struggles
to tell a society – the one that tells us who
we can and cannot love – the truth

I sense it is the teachings from our parents
that obligates us to heed the words of gospels
voiced from the mouths of supposedly pious men

But we deny ourselves as we observe from a distance
watching as our souls are slowly destroyed
choked by the guilt inherent in our upbringing

We cry as we impose this harshness on our self
to the point where our ideals cannot be changed
and our direction in life cannot be reversed

Tell me why we fear our freedom
explain to me why we fear the response of others
to the words and emotions in our heart

Why do we live within these self imposed rules
for should not love, above and beyond all else
be the very reason for which rules are broken

Do not worry about social conventions for as
sure and as unsure as we are, our commitment to
each other should be our only thought

Posted 15/11/2011 by DarKarsean in poem, poetry, Uncategorized

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Too Old To …   Leave a comment

When is,
“too old to write about love”
When is,
“too old to speak of love”
When does,
“young enough”
Turn into,
“you’re too old”

I have a heart,
with which I have loved
I have a voice,
with which I have caressed
If I now wish to share
the words of my love with you,
will you scorn them
because of my age

You’ve heard the saying,
“experience is wasted
on the old”
You’ve heard the saying,
“youth is wasted
on the young”
But I hope you never hear the saying
that your words of love are wasted

Don’t misunderstand me,
I don’t want a younger love
but I do wish to share
the songs of my love
through the words I write
To be read without judgement
to be read without scorn
and to be read with an open heart

I’ve seen and heard young lovers,
lay their love bare to all
I’ve seen them share
their words of love,
of their love hard won,
of their love and lovers lost
and I’ve seen joy in the faces of people
as they’ve listened to those words

Yet if I were to say
those same words out aloud
If I were to lay
my heart out for all to see
I, and the words I say,
would be scorned
Because as a man of 54
I should be too old for that

I dream as others do,
of what was
of what could have been
I reminisce of a life
of loves loved and lovers lost
I close my eyes, then open them upon my past
I want to share my words of love
before I really am too old to …

Posted 13/11/2011 by DarKarsean in poem, poetry, Uncategorized

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Ghosts in Dark Alleys   2 comments

Ghosts in Dark Alleys

It wasn’t normal ghost weather – dark rain or thunderstorms. It was a clear moonlit night the first time that I heard their voices. They sounded just like two people having a conversation, quite ordinary really, until I looked around and realised that I was the only person there. There were no windows in the alley to disgorge voices from the inside and no flat top roofs for people to be standing upon; just the voices, only the voices. The following evening I walked through the alley again, once more hearing the voices, although this time, they were a little clearer than the night before. As the week went by, the voices became clearer, the conversations a little longer.

Ghosts in Dark Alleys

Dark city alleys
lair of alley cats
of young girls for hire
and pretty boy spats

tormented children
from broken homes
turning tricks
to feed their bones

dark alleys
dark lives
doing drugs
to stay alive

first time doing “favours”
for richer men
looking at their eyes
vowing never again

but the night is cold
hunger strikes
I’ll just do this for
one more night

one night of pain
turns to one week
a month goes by
now they can’t sleep

must do something
a need to get high
just a little prick
will help get by

mind numbing
soul destroying
body wrecking
pimp toying

late nights
alleys run with tears
mixed with blood
not enough beers

do you smell their blood
are your hands clean
or are you the one
who does demean

ghosts in back alleys
of chalk outlines
on cobble stone paths
life’s shortened times

that one, he’s a judge
the next, he drives trains
see him, he’s a doctor
that creep is into pain

survival time
it ain’t the fast lane
give me needles
just find a good vein

trips gone wrong
now tattooed skin
covers scar tissue
no one can get in

clothes clean
bodies dirt
disease deadly
but never alert

parents love,
the issue lost
abuse and neglect
what’s the cost

it ends the same
always the way
cold dead bodies
as life ebbs away

ghosts in dark alleys
off dark streets
in dark cities where
dark monsters sleep

Posted 10/11/2011 by DarKarsean in poem, poetry, Uncategorized

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The Sound of Nothing   Leave a comment

Can you hear it?

By definition
It should not be there

But what is nothing
Is it the no in nothing?

Or is it the thing
But what is the thing

Because isn’t nothing
A not

So do we look for a hing?
But there is no such thing

So are we back at no
Or are we back at nothing

If we have no love
We have nothing

But that nothing, leaves a hole
And isn’t a hole a thing

Sure, we can’t feel it
But we can fall into it

So doesn’t that mean?
That it is something, not nothing

Because we know
You can’t fall into nothing

Can you hear the sound of nothing?
For nothing should not have a sound

So does the sound of nothing
Sound the same for everything

Is there no sound if
No one is there to hear it

Or is the sound of nothing just the
Wind blowing past our ears as we fall

Yet in space where gravity is nothing
We could end up falling up

Would the wind still blow past our ears?
If we fell upwards

So is nothing something
Or is something nothing

Will a broken heart always
Sound like a broken heart?

Will a broken heart be broke?
Even when it is not broken

Will love always make the world go around?
Even when there is so much hate

If I give nothing to my enemies
Will they give me nothing in return?

Could that be the point, give them nothing
And they will give nothing in return

No grief, no pain, no death in return for
No grief, no pain, no death

Give them nothing
And they will return the favour

Imagine the sound of nothing
It would be deafening

Is the sound that should not be there?
The sound we all hope to hear?

Am I getting anywhere?
Or is this just nothing

I don’t know,
but I think it is deafening

Posted 05/11/2011 by DarKarsean in poem, poetry, Uncategorized

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