Oct/Nov 1998 Poetry |
The Dragon Sleeps
Thunder in the vast heavens
out at sea a light
shuffles into tomorrow
waves break on Turtle Island,
young lovers decorate the
darkness between two
worlds.
In the gardens of hotels
exclusive Westerners sit
hypnotised by
the blueness of sex videos
The Ghost of Sanur Beach
Sad-eyed girls
sell post-cards for 1,000 rp
just down the beach
just along the evolutionary
ladder,
and,
just across the water, in the
Philippines or Thailand
sad-eyed girls
sell their bodies for U.S. dollars
for vegetables and rice
for their infant children
and,
just off the coast
just South of here
In Australia,
In St. Kilda,
sad-eyed girls
sell their souls
for heroin , for
mortgages,
for one last chance at love
for relief,
for eternal nothingness
for dim recollections
of Sanur Beach.
Tuyul: (Bali Mother)
Hush, blackness sweeps
over land and sea
listen!
the wanton lady walks
from dusk to dawn
ghastly white, naked
seeking out her preyTuyul, bane of mere mortals
stealer and tempter of souls
Great Dark Queen of a formless world
Money rot, money rot, money rot
greed beyond all measure of propriety
passionate, choking greed ...
Tuyul, you gave your only child.Unhappy spirit, you have
a ghosts floating walk
bug-eyed mistress
of the grave
sweet sad seductress
of the moon manYou are Bali now.
On Bali: Third World Blues
I'm confused
the West is parasitic -
culture shock of
the fruit salad elephant
corporations axe the multicoloured
trunk,
life oozes mana
temples bathe in tropical heat
monkeys eat rice on ancient steps
Rupiah - pounds sterling, U.S. dollars,
children smile.(1993 - Singaraja, for Sean and Deanne.)
The Weeping Idol ( 3rd World Dreams)
The idol weeps under
strange modern skies,
things creep from
green canopies
and feed the salty tears of
ruin
things creep with mechanical
limbs and
narrow eyes
- the times are out of joint.The Idol cracks
on a pedestal of dreams -
the village maidens
trade mother love
for currencies hard as bitten nails
Sri Dewi goes the way of all
the bright young moons
fiercely to extinction,
to the endless night of
a Western winter.The Idol weeps
tells her tale to the nature Gods
of old
they cradle her in memories
and she sees all things
past, present, future ...The Idol weeps
under strange modern skies
this is the Age of Iron.(1993 - from a Balinese painting.)
Bird of Memory
I am your Bird of Memory
plumed, proud, ancient -
perched upon your knee
I wake you from a premature
sleep
I sing you songs from the
world's first morning
I strut and trill
the half-moon is my
witness
Once you fed me fish
and in return
I brought you flowers
from the sun
we were lovers of the dawn
remember?(1993 - for S.K.S. inspired by a Balinese Painting.)