Blik - A Moment (1989)

Let my heart heave a sigh
If only I had kept that glance
And now need not deny
Myself dazed in a trance
If you only knew yourself
Unexpected cause of my vanities.

I love the way the sun did dance
Upon fair hair brushed back
I dared not breathe, lest chance
I should miss your glance looking back.

Your acquamarine eyes
Pools of azzurial light deep set
I long and search for dyes
To match the brilliance mine has met
And capture the light that gleams within
In memory and constant recollection.

Feel the heat of flint
An improbably transaction
With one as beautiful as you
And how would I have loved,
How if you knew!




Frankfurt-am-Main
1989

A Sure Smile (1989)

A sure smile
that twitch on the edge
of lips, lifted
like accents over the unspoken word
caught my happy eye and cannot deny
this delightful sign
an endearing look
and hope longingly
a repeated chance
capture that rapture
of departed lips
breaking into smiles.

Downtown Amsterdam
donderdag, in juni ‘89

O My Friend What Have You Done (1989)

O my friend, what have you done?
We have thought of you, the One
Above all the anguish pangs
Hero whom poets sang
When I was blind, you made me see
Notice wintry wonder around me
You dragged me out to appreciate
Express all I left unsaid.
How you liberated me
Whilst quiet, you, Prometheus bound
Tortured you whispered not a plea
How your performance astounds
Heave my heart to my mouth
Invent new hymns fit for you
Mightier than a cry, breath, hue
A reflection on true
You have robbed us of Life!
Unwarned, mocked us of love
Break from conformity
This deed you have done callously
Shatters fraternity
Weep I must, mourn this musk
That stings my memory
Sleeping, sulking, to saunter each dusk
Finds cause in this heresy.
O Beauty! Marred by deed.
Be cold as snow, silver as sleet
Love you as you go
Even ever more
As dampness invades my feet.



22 August 1989
0111 hrs

I have not known anyone personally, who have committed suicide. Yet the statistics suggest that there must be someone in the course of our lives whom we might know who would have attempted or succeeded in suicide. This is an exploration, if someone I knew were to have done it. It is possible that this was also inspired by the shock effect after watching Dead Poets Society, which I recall watching alone in a theatre at Surfers Paradise, located against the backdrop of the sea. I left the theatre close to midnight and had to walk back to the hotel complex, and stopped by the beach front where the wind, sand and surf was blowing in hard, and penned some of these words. It was just meant to release some very strong feelings aroused by some scenes in the film’s plot.

What Last Thoughts Should Haunt (1989)

What last thoughts should haunt
“Think of those who mourn”
Greater deeds need be done
I am not necessarily the one.
At least I am I, who needs me
Wise, foolish, honest, free
My chimed and fluted symphony
One act to end all suddenly
My sorrow, joy, life, friends and toil
Are important but never as much the need
To fall
Out of the Frame of Life
And bleed.
Then, late understood
A glimpse to be Free
Silence, deafening of my plea.
Release Me.



22 August 1989
0043 hrs

I think everyone at some point thinks of, contemplates, the idea of ultimate control over one’s life, and that inevitably means, death. Can we determine the how, when (details), and the consequences. But it is ironic, because if one prefers death, then what follows as a result, and the order of arrangements, should not matter. I think, then, anyone who explores this, is crying out for affirmation, the symptom of something gravely missing in their human experience, whether we call it healing, completion or release.

The Unknowing Love (1989)

The unknowing love of life within
     The breadth of unseen
Love that dictates, not understands
Compassion that awaits but never mends
A serpent’s tongue that begs kinder gift
Of trusted faith that lifts
Steps in darkness to certainty
Let me, let me, be.
I cannot answer, my voice falters
To have been heard at least was good
I cried out loud as I could.
Naught understood
But, “I was good!”
Winter, long past the summer of youth
Determines my fate, marks little use.
Cannot resist, unable to refuse
Allow me this one chance to choose
Nothing to gain is neither to lose
I shall face, naked, the Whip O’ Life
Rip open my heart, ride me of strife
Blank forever this thinking mind
Cut-off (they say, from the) production line.
Explore the dark choice consciously:
What will the world think of me?
Who scribbles short of poetry
In death invents a society.


1989

Quick reflections then of the odd futility of the experiences we seem to gain from mistakes in relations in our lives, where perceptions don’t match. Then in seeking catharsis, reads and writes poetry, to only to find other more eloquent voices from the past who have spoken of the same weakness of heart (Dead Poets Society?).

No One Listens (1989)

No one listens, only hears
     the lyrical whispers of my years.
No one knows, tastes the tears,
     discovery of love and fears.
Away from my family
     I am simply plainly truly me.
My laughter, hunger derision, voice
     leaping, hawking, none are false.
With those who let me be
     I am unchained, unbridled free
Yet those who claim loves me most
     Their sacrifice and affection boast –
I am endangered most of life
     Deceived by their dire action.
Oh within me is such strife!
     They being sorest of affliction
For me; I have been given best
     Wealth was never contest
All was ever wanted, met
     Their ways and thinking were set!
I felt all hate and anguish
     No prompt or reason to cease;
Until exhausted, then found extinguished
     The rabid rage released.



1989

My Senses Revel At This Fact (1989)

My senses revel at this fact:
Imagine the vast littleness of life
Which necessarily exists
For continuity
And must
Invent
An
Eternity.



The Esplanade
Surfers’ Paradise, Queensland

21 August 1989
2205 hrs

Address (1989)

Open your mind, release your heart’s passion
Fling wide the riddled doors of your imagining.
Deliver your soul with the rapture of lips;
Welcome that vision of deepest blue disappearing
     in the distant flash of lightning,
Like One, a Lover who discovers
     Love’s disguise.

Ride on, beyond the cold and blurring fog.
Pick-up your heels, rage, and be gentle – not!
True visions are blind!
These lead us to dare
Where only those who hope, have faith – would fare;
Blinded by what I saw
     yet still want more.

Must I awake to the calm
Borderline between
Truth – Imaginings – Mortality’s realm
And forge dreams, far-flung fantasies
Within these portals of Void and Reality
Thus be True as False might serve
For what is worth denying must exist
By the simple principle governing all Things
All that is named, IS
All that is, even of thoughts the least
May cease, but did exist.

I learnt too late and violently awake:
Struggle my denial that we are fruits of fate.
I decide, certain, shall not wait –
To run the course my passions make
From a widening dream awake escape
Hyperion unveilled dismay
Question the markings Time make
That all things are, or existed true
Still are by some imagined frame
Congealed and concealed in another World.
There is nothing firm, so permanent
Or fixed, for all past is alive, safe in me;
It dwells in ethereal urns and lucent orbs
Where consciousness sleeps, minds are free
Reality and fantasy in harmony
Make melt, mould, shape tumescent forms
Infinity of all things, here are born
Nourished by Word, Thought, in active tense
Make verse and rhyme echo common sense
Then release the wealth of Humanity
Which gathers wind, like storm and hail, inexorably
Awakening within, and creating anew Memory
Like trains of leaves blown askew by Nymphs
And Muses to breed a posterity,
Seduced by learning
To gain, Knowledge
of Everything.



1989

Rencontre d'spirit (1989)

In some corner of Existence I sit
Silent, complacent, clear:
Invitating all whom pass, to meet
Find rest here, endear, forget fear,
And listen, indulge one’s part, express
The myriad worlds of each our Imaginings.
All given, told, shall be worth the note
Melodies afloat on this Life’s rough dwelling
Tossed by fleet Time’s angry mode
Weathers chance to opportunity the epic
Stay course, the plot, denouement of intrigue
As each Act ends thus meet the applauding sky
Whence I entered in and shall exeunt by.

1989

I Have Dreamt Of You Much Of Late (1993)

I have dreamt of you much of late
which disturbed my sleep, left me awake.
These visions of you, wide, hollowed through
Filled with trees, shrubs and rose bushes leaden with dew.
What air, fragrant, moist and pure
A settling mist greets me with calm allure.
What magical lair, gleaming, inviting
Me within, feeling close and secure.
     There is my secret valley, winged by hills
     Where life is abundant, abandon and free
     Where rocks speak, and leaves whistle
     Longing for me, beckoning me.
Is there a realm where tired heart finds peace,
Away from rueful, urban seige?
Naked where I’ll life, pelased with the least
Desire nothing else, save far from reach.
Clouds, though sparse, lace the awakening sky
Dawn dances on, let the first light fly.
Then darkness is lifted like a sheet of grey
As the valley reappears, a great foray.

I toss and I turn denied of my sleep;
Determined to wrest this awakening dream
Now safely described, my visions slip
Into quiet retreat, to that far distant realm.


2.25 am
30 November 1993

I could not get any sleep and so at 1.03 am, I penned these words, after tossing while trying to get a wink, all the while seeing this vision of a green valley illuminated by a moonlit mist.

Mykonos (1993)

Π  ΜΙΚΟΝΟΣ

At Mykonos, I remember you
Your beauty framed by the blue;
Your cotton shirt stained by the hues
Of the Aegean sun, whom Night pursues.
     Evening falls; silence broken by marble walls
     Scattered among laurel and olive shrubs;
     Amidst which I sit, longing to hear, words overdue.
     Night deepens and darkness floods;
     Andromeda, Orion now rise; flies, and fleetingly falls.
     Far flung below, coastal lights blinked and withdrew.
By morning my memory of you is refreshed
Stirred by Siren breeze, washed by dew
Filling with musk, citrus, and your sweet caress;
Strengthened, resolved to the test –
But disarmed completely as you tease –
Drawing me, helplessly, to your breast.

Far from Skiathos, Mikonos – the Ionian Sea
I have forgotten you, found myself roaming free.
Yet neither the potency of Styx nor puerile Cupid
Could vex me from that bid
Hear cherished words, revive this ailing spirit
Sorrow, your embrace, loving, gentle, passionate, true
Which call out from my dreams and draws me close to you.


29 November 1993

I Know Tonight (1993)

I know tonight
that love, when it means anything, is most terribly obscure
like a flickering light
which burns constantly, yet fails to illuminate.

I feel, I know, and I should understand
Life’s all but imperfect, and
Meanders, wavers, stirs then deflect
Aspirations, desire, passion; reflect
My own anger and hate
And discover too late
The terrible emptiness after an impassioned wait.

Is it possible to love without full comprehension
Add patience, and build that grand illusion
That time alone should yield and tell
Of the dark, empty, abyss into which I fell.

I am but devoid of comprehensibility
This nadir of silliness makes all life grand
For no lower has foolishness ever put me
Floundered and keeled over much and sand
A wasted iota of love vanquished
I am happier dry, affection extinguished.


28 November 1993
After leaving The Westin Plaza, 12 am

I Thought You Were Great (1993)

I thought you were great as little Nikita
Talented and intense like lovers who
Knew instinct and a trick or two
Blew stereotypes apart and raved afar
River, look who you are!

I dispensed with the idea we might meet again
Shocked by the informal revelation of pain
To read of your death with tame disdain
And ponder the truth and feel insane
River, wish’d you remained!

I guessed at least we’ve met more than once
A couple of laughs and tears sampled too
What else could anyone ask of you
Who spoke softly, watch that frown
Now freed, a’last, from Earthen bounds!


2 November 1993

I Think Of You (1993)

I think of you, a bright gem in life’s treasury
A glistening shard of crystal, blazing luminously.
Every facet reveals visions clear, sublime
Abberates distance, fact and splinters time
River running, leaughing, paled by light
Should fall victim in autumn’s flight
Leave a wintry world wrought with grief
Desperate for a relic, aching for relief.
Drowsy, I’m drunk, emptied of you
Impaled by sadness, enchantment of rue.

The world is now a poorer place
Heaving sighs borned by wistful hearts
Hymns to whom was struck by grace
Strong, beautiful, unjustly barred
From time’s promise to relish, taste
The grandest tour of life should undertake
In a thousand minds where fantasies awake
For a quiet sojourn in your erotic race.

I mourn your leaving
And celebrate your gift
To have known you deeply
And bear that sting
That you, youth, should love and leave
Like a river running, drowning me…


30 October 1993

Dream State (1993)

my own private idyll, was one night spent with you
alone, dishevelled, shivering cold
no fire could ever warm this platonic soul
until you invade the quiet desert of solitude
no moon, star, cloud pierce the open silence
to smell your hair, taste your sweat and spit
feel your unshaven chin beneath
shovelling, withdrawing sweetness and seed
and lovingly embrace that gushing stream

running on empty, loneliness was peace to you
your embrace, kisses were passionate and bold
no lover, could ever imagine as you unfold
your vulnerable, slender, shape without lassitude
no words describe the beauty of that season
not any breath feel the joy of deliverance
to taste the salty hot gush as you come
shrilly, convulsing, where pleasure and soreness meet
feel your swollen pangs cleave
shivering, desiring a tight embrace and sleep
and breadth to breadth fall into another dream


1 November 1993
11.50 pm
Surfers Paradise

Death On The Sidewalk (1993)

1 am, West Hollywood


I cannot do justice, I know, to your passing.
It hurts crazily, to think, you are suddenly gone.
What? Dead – one so joyously alive, intriguing!
When beauty’s gone; dead on a bed of stone.

I think of your blonde head, yes, that fringe falling.
It seems completely, vainly insane, you should slip away.
Where? Gone – once glittering, burning, brightly blazing!
Where few trails have ever shone, melt and decay.

I miss the thought, the hope, I should see you again.
It stings wryly, that fact, your unfulfilled promises.
How? Done – your laughing eyes, thin lips stain
How handsomely adorned; a vision which fades, blurs.

I have long kept you in my heart, a niché in a wall of stone.
It moans of empty, ruined by an absent prospect of you.
Who? You – your youth, an autumn-spring, thrown
Who have taken flight of the earth, the River who flew…



30 October 1993
While at Surfers’ Paradise, Queensland

Sidewalk Jane (1993)

I am propositioned, constantly, for my company
I am liked, I supposed, for various parts of me.
There’s James, Leonard, Han, Jon and a few
Who think I notice, wish I knew
That they like me, and I, them too.

It’s silly, this game; appreciate me, appreciate you
When does it end, how I wish’d I knew
Yet there’s one distinct person within view
Who draws my attention, my fancies too
Oh, rather unbecoming to expect him to
Engage my stares and pension his cares
Heed my attention, brace for action
Our eyes across the room drew
Into each other’s, the spectre reveal
A deafening sensation, of wild abandon
Desire, pangs, for communion
Such as experienced by a rarer few
A consumate passion, utterly real.

Who cares for propositions, they mean nothing you know,
What with changing partners, passing to and fro.
There’s hope, faithfulness, trust and love yet
A surmountable task, a complete fiat
That I should love you, and let it be, at that.


26 October 1993

I Have Been Wounded (1993)

I have been wounded, Love, by thee
Struck ineffably, a promethean ecstasy;
To revel in company, ay, a pageantry
Unwound by time, a cursed infirmy.

Thus, ached and anxious I have longed your embrace
Kissed, desired, longed patiently to caress your face:
And, gently to slip and glide within these sheets
Healed, kissed, enjoin where beating hearts meet.
Am I, deserted, parched like aged paper
Longing, waiting, inks to illuminate;
Ruminate, sigh, until a time safer
In closed, company, love germinates.

I have been patient, indeed, for you
Struck silently, maintained a curfew;
In anticipation, yes, love is true
To receive your call, and come to you.

You, a wonder, a prophecy fulfilled –
A measure of eternity, time stilled.
As I hapless, think of you
Come afresh, pure, as morning dew –
A dainty drop, a generous cue
To fall, unabashedly, in love with you.



26 October 1993
JFT

Brent Fialka

apollo with gold-gleaming crown’d head proud above
those of men who plea storm crowd around stands
tall aloof as god not fiend if his sinewy fingers
sound summon weak spirits arise stand: declare
ourselves weaklings bound released by the wave of
his hand fear most his fiery-form grace a remedy
a bane to bend makes us clowns to fall down
exhausted from his games of god-man where
sickness mar feigned apollo abounds master
of muses send healing poetry-music which astound
weaves life’s fragile frabic then reigns discord to rent.



Letter to Brent
New Prince Takanawa Hotel, Shinagawa, Tokyo

1 September 1988

Will You? (1983)

will you, so fresh, so young
with eyes deep, distant, wide
wait patiently?
know, i where life has flung
a shell-hole to hide
waits painfully?


September 1983

on the maimed beloved, the Great War 1914