sketch pad

meine umwelt

avec moi, sans moi,

par moi

Ahh… and the tales I shall unfold

May blast comprehension if the truth be told

An ode to the masters, martyrs and whims

A satyr on life and sullied daydreams


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Unanimous Laughter

Night spreads thickly like clotting blood through the arteries of the metropolis

Life seeps gradually away, leaving only the undead to haunt lonely streets

And those desperate for death’s challenge to confront their empty existence

The rejuvenating glow of dawn welcomes the last trespassers to their beds

Greeting the quickening heartbeat of business and trade as it blinks bleary eyes

Questioning the vigour of youth, the fable of old age, and the weariness abundant

Breakfast sees a kaleidoscopic collage of humours and habits proliferating

Diversifying into the arena or wandering outside the ring intent on a view

Or following a fantasy as valid as the soundness of the human mind or security

The organisation of chaos ensues, prediction of the weather, misapplication of

The butterfly effect or Le Chatelier’s principle or tarot cards or luck or fate

And each in his own sweet oblivion envies the innocence of the youngest child

One projects her individuality, needing to know others can see she does not care

Another wanders blindly in an emotional swamp, observant of all but that most clear

Some hide in each new face or project, fashion, sport, book or series on the television

Some do not know of complexity but feel a nostalgic loss or remain blissfully unaware

Others have forsaken simplicity for the frantic, intoxicating haste of complete burnout

Another will gaze at the jewel in his palm and question all but his own lack of aestheticism

Lie back in the dark and inhale one you love until breath and heartbeat fill your ears like

Ancient music to a primordial theme; feel slow encroaching pressure ease the base of your

Spine, working gradually up a network of stress and nerves until released over the scalp

A gradual communication between tension and relaxation, an internal sphere beyond the

Reach of pleasure or pain, a temple to sensation: to warm sunlight sprinkling like rain

Over a gently smiling, upturned face, to the memory of darkness and the wind outside

After noon the body craves the peace of a short slumber, is denied by caffeine, adrenaline

And society’s forbidding command. As evening comes crawl home to bed and toss in

Disturbed day dreams. What happened to the animal: contentment with life, yielding

Sacrifice to its demands, dying in an unmarked spot, rejoining the universal cycle?

Why do I look at the sky and dream beyond the boundaries of my own comprehension

Why do I wish up each falling star or upturn each stone, why do I question why?

He walks with his face hugging the ground, unknown to him are the clouds that skit the sky

Yet a beam of pleasure opens up an unknown world as his eyes alight on familiarity

The curious magic of meeting a friend unexpectedly breaking through steady melancholy

An eager young face halts a frazzled stranger’s course with honey-tongued irrelevancy

Open-eyed and naïve, the world an untried box of toys, an unwrapped present, pure

Discovery. The sun breaks free from grey obscurity, or the clouds release their burthen.

(21st Apr ‘95)