The porno didn’t do anything
imagination wouldn’t make happen
though the ‘boy’ fixation
was overplayed
just sitting drinking rum from a bottle
passed hand to hand shooting the breeze
after a vindaloo
it fitted naturally
but there was no way we
for all our addiction could be responsible
for the breathy oohs and ahs exhaled
by her shamateurism
© 15 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
Wasn’t what was said
that really mattered
more the madness
of excited words
in rhetoric of
sequencing
Silence in
between was
eloquent and clear
words that sprang
to mind implied but
deafening
Each utterance
embedded fear where
stillness kept the peace
too much to lose
to free this toll of
reckoning
© 13 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
My friend calls them ‘pensioners’ naps’,
these easy midday siestas I indulge in now
and then – he claims they are necessary
to maintain a benign view of the World.
Ok, it may be true but I’ll bet he’s never
been wakened in the middle of one by a
mobile phone playing random tunes.
This time it was ‘All About Soul’, not too
bad a choice I might digress. Of course the
damn phone doesn’t have a sense of humour
or other excuse as a character reference –
possessed by demons as near as I’d guess.
Sure, I’ll send it back. There has to be a rational
explanation – which is kind of weird, I mean,
I’m admitting I like its quirky idiosyncrasy.
Not many people can say their phone
is possessed, or possibly blessed with
waking one gently.
© 17 January 2008, I. D. Carswell
Facing facts instead of dreading
gloomy endings swallows me;
I vacillate between the rational
man of steel and he believing
fairies must exist – and if they
do I’m ever left a-wondering.
There are a few with whom I
disagree – by letting panoply
of sages rail against the norm
delight in farce of dawn without
a cincture to contain the lustful
bursting free of brazen light.
Hasn’t yet occurred that what is
right is never more than where
one stands – while being wrong
explains the place you’d rather be;
for me I’m over there complete
with fairy fables at my feet.
© 11 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
The simple way to ease those
nagging agonies which writhe
within the National Rugby League
is change your guiding star
There’s no need to be seen
espousing codes of conduct
detailing behaviours which
bring the NRL into disrepute
You’ll see THEM do it without
agreement or seeking your help
believing they’re keeping you taut
on a precocious moral string
Strange fringe groups leap with
alacrity into centre stage and
whine tuneless controversy with
such vehemence the game reeks
If someone hasn’t resigned this
week from an historic incident
painted blacker than Satan’s ailing
heart they feel they’ve failed
I advise you Gallop from such
trite controversy, abandon TV
news shows where CEO NRL
falls on his apoplectic face
threatening past and present
stalwarts of the game with dire
consequences and imminent
infamy if they don’t repent
there is no day of judgement
pending – Gallop into the sunset
give yourself a break – after
all mate; it is only a game...
© 8 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
To hear it second-hand does not
equate with what you said – your
voice an avatar has faked I fear.
Nonetheless in gravity it threatens
common sense, the choice of kind
to burn within another’s ear; a
case was never placed before
so grievous to your sanity.
No room for compromise at all
a proxy view declaims – who
was it paraphrased debate?
you’re placed in jeopardy of
shame assured, as if you knew
just whom it has defaced.
© 7 June 2008, I. D. Carswell
Eating chocolate cake won’t abate
the angst, rules which take a
gustatory argument do not apply.
There is no easy recipe to fake an
exit from the words which fried
your brain; they’re words worth
space as ecstasy in free domain.
I don’t advise to listen less than
resonance allows – while hearing
more observes a sable law of truth
diminishing returns. I’m proud to be
a confidant concerned with polity
I say resist and hint at least you
can persist and still survive.
There are no words to act as keys
betwixt neutrality and gloom. What
you do with fantasy exists within
the loom you energise; the mood
presumes and makes a play begin
when actors speak. It isn’t ever
simply words
© 6 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
These words are not to say
I do not care because I do
they are because the place
you were is anywhere but
here; aired pretence no-
longer bears me up or cheers
my anxious countenance
I’m sensitive to change as you
well know, this coolness takes
some wearing even though
it isn’t new; back when you
first declared this newly gelid
state I was prepared to learn
to succour too
Today you made it clear whose
space was wasted when you
tore apart all semblance of a
heart that cared; if life within
your veins of ice occurs then
where the flow constrains we
lie a stolid state interred
© 25 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
human innocence
constrained in
cultural derivation
stays my hand
we’re the same
by common roots
but see with
ethnocentric shades
too many of you
breeding irresponsibly
in the name of your
mezzo archaic gods
too few of me
shielding the last
open spaces against
relentless clamour
the reckoning’s not
gods’ righteousness
related second-hand
but living space
it disappears at
the same pace as
your virtuous march
to self-actualisation
any World we are
to share is substantially
larger than this
hedonistic hallucination
© 25 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
The rhetoric dismays my
misplaced sense of decency
if grace had meaning
other than the one assumed
by adding God I could agree.
I’ve never met the man
I am ashamed to say
embarrassed as so much
I learned was in his name
– yet he still stayed away.
Without his hand upon the
lips from which the words
ensue I can be only sceptical
that they are true; and if he
said them, then to who?
“The will of God will never
take you where the Grace of
God cannot keep you” is the
oddball phrase – an argument
embracing eccentricity.
Must I abandon what is me for
two replies which are by right
rewards of mine; I can decline
to send the message on but
surely then the sun won't shine.
I ask my inner voice for its
advice – am told the choice
is never nice, with stipulations
splicing matrices I know the
will of God would never go.
© 23 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
So,
at lunch today you
turn TV on and stay engaged
tête-à-tête with your sister;
you’re saying something
I shouldn’t ignore
Or,
I’m misreading the
lines – hey, perhaps it
means I’m merely not
a current centre
of attention
Explained,
when you leave to
play euchre on the patio,
TV beaming vacantly –
yes, I get the feeling
clearly
© 22 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
the thing I like
is there’s less
distraction
trees don’t pass
judgement, leastways
not on me
I’m a good guy
I opine, without
apology
of course they watch
unwaveringly, never
avert their eyes
could YOU do that
without ever
blinking
© 21 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
cold toes
perhaps a case of wistfulness
misplaced as passé memories
ages past
the path to warmth embraced
a host of special ways
a ghosted smile
a kiss displayed in
always winsome eyes
warm caress
disguised in gentleness but
sanctified kept hopes alive
even avid urgency
divined in feral need conspired
to feed and comfort me
but today
the words you want to say
are tragic cries unheard
whereas
the words you said lie dead
beneath those frozen feet
© 21 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
i don’t have a drink in my hand,
the nearest bar is at least 12km
from here – beer’s in the fridge
& spirits stacked for a lonely day
in an obvious liquor cabinet
try as i may i don’t see much in an
argument i’m held captive; what
is the sense? emotionally i agree
there’s enough evidence although
it shouldn’t convince a jury
if i believed frailty is best made clear
by reflecting on malcontents’ failings
i’d at least have a drink in my hand
– as it stands both hands are free
and the need (to do so) tacitly pales
© 21 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
changing your mind midstream
seemed expedient in delaying
angst’s appalling after-flow
but you knew from experience
the weight of current opinion
equates increasingly vogue
is it too gauche revealing late
those grossly shameful bedroom
happenings impacting your sanity
you are not insane – this reason
you know accurately, but within
there’s only yourself to blame
media touts sold you short of
salvation anyway – indecently
claimed a moral ascendency
so-called welfare agencies merely
saturated minds already suffused
with bigoted, self-polluting germs
© 18 May 2009, I. D. Carswell
easy answers run
and hide on this – can’t say
why today nothing planned
eventuated
sure, I did consider
each and every thing intended
long and
careful like
maybe read too much into
an obsession with intense deliberation
decided instead on
spontaneity
then lost my way disgracefully
when even it
seemed
somewhat premeditated
© 4 June 2009, I. D. Carswell
