Ye Caterpillar, 6 january 2013
HALLO WORLD-BALL
Feathery old static fluff-ball
World with its upside down Russias
All over the place-
Hallo again I say to thee
world scatter-wing a day gone turned
a worldly spin on things, a time
World-ball, I remember you
I remember when I painted your portrait
Yes, I know you.
Clattering to the ground are
ladles, screens, tunnels, an entrance-way
to other times, afternoons,
a camp a cave a jittney-ride a spin
You have so much to offer-
You immensely and unimaginably
rich and diverse world
that is in fact a conglomerate
ball composed of many a world
squashed together
on the surface of one ball-
World-realm-shadow-ball-
Thought-made ball-
Ball dappled with discarded
Dreams of the dear dead and gone ones-
Of many times, a World
of many situations and perspectives
A World
Of so many feelings, thoughts, memories
and sense impressions of dust-like
entities,
A World-
So to gather up everything that
ever happened in the World
and hold it up to the light
and so to hallo the World
step away and look cleanly at it
Because you know; what is a World?
Is it one now I'm looking at it aren't I?
Is it this whale-frothing sea of drops
or this stone-mantled continental swoop
these breezy air-realms sunny afternoons
going shopping in town or hurtling cyclones
around the Aleutians under the auraura borealis
the sand in a fly's eye in Arabian hubub
bouncing back the glint of light
from mineral silicone frost sliding glimmer-
In a dirigible's rib-cage telegraphic
morse signals electro-magnetic
kinetic communique - a scene yes
but not the only because over
here you have
look, another glistening
pallette of shimmering
viridian hues-
so puff, Old World
And gleeful spin,
Don't damp your imagination
and get done in-
Moons to your moods they cling
Eyes closed
Mind's eye open-
Bubbling street stations
and there's the department
of complaints
In a street like this town
you have everything
and it's all going down-
Lemon-horns blow stawberry licks
and slippery drums pour stacks
rattle
Fresh and green slew plumes of pine
and gliding fish brined bone-strong
water-gone gads-
witness the manta
sea-square strangeness
to the power of three-
Light split into beams
blaring on golden morning wall
early white gold light
young light lucid-
World barely just held together
by cumbersome pins and
antiquated and outmoded systems
of pseudocohesion and psychodrama-
World enmeshed in myth
World on the back of a fish
and frisson of fish-net prophets
melt the ice of eye-sockets
glossy glaze and gaze through glass
at last glossing the fog with
crystal vision-
World aflash with exploding Humanity
World writhing in chemical mysteries
World flung hung religiously in space
as though in a glass case on display
as if created by atom-storm-wind
in the nostril of clustering horse-god
in x-ray lightning shattered-
Living world,
into which the breath of all the dreams
of people's chain of ages whispers
and ripples-
World which all look upon and think
You are mine-
Gadfly World, teasing out illusions
home of distorted ideas, home-world
of the greedy cruel and indifferent
world well-submerged in down-mentality
world almost subjugated by mal
world toxic made not well by man
Old nature fighting back-
World to the core hot, spinning
in space like the Great Phonograph
of legend-
Honour to the World of everything
plastic bags and all
But mostly to the myriad creatures
the glittering sparks of beings
the mass of zillions of hearty ghosts
smiling children of ephemera
crude karmic ping-pongs
kind souls, kindred folk, kith,
and atom wind sea-square strangeness-
Ye Caterpillar, 6 january 2013
Jacaranda jaculus - jaculus Caractacus
Caraway imaculus.
Hacking haikus home from traveling the page.
Merimac memory-babe, clacking keys
on your portable machine
writing the epic paperback roadflick
lickin' up ink, highways, lush-nights
and scenes of your time, your '50's
w e s t e r n d r e a m i n g
Lost, mocked, most honoured scribe
scribbling in endless notebooks
with your
c h e a p w i n e
sharing-it-with-anybody -
YOU didn't mind -
you knew we all sprung from the same meatwheel,
the same karmic revolving circus -
From Mary's drunken Buddha-Heart.
In felaheen earth
in tents
in Mexico
in automobiles
in neon city night-lights
in sagebrush coyote deserts
in doldrum drinking blues
in ships of the oily dark sea
loving the tragic world
loving the magic words - keys clack
ribbon spins and whirls
unravelling on your cheap solitary desk
tales of ten thousand miles
to bless the dream-soaked youth
an' flying souls to the sun
Ye Caterpillar, 5 january 2013
You hollowed out my poem
and stuck your
(adverts)
into it
this made me feel pretty strange
because-
Do we share our dreams
so you can (advert) cinema tickets?
(advert)
shoes handbags jewellery glasses
(adverts)
corporating insidious (adverts)
into our dreams
into our dreams
into our dreams
Ye Caterpillar, 4 january 2013
Ghostmoney-
It’ll hauntya-
But what is ghostmoney, you ask-
Ghostmoney is the dream
of the value
of the money you spent
it all long ago.
Ghostmoney is foreign currency
that we all use-
Ghostmoney is currently collected
by the customs and exorcise-
This chilling private-value-system
haunts vaults
vaunts and flaunts fiscal
risks, faults, fails, falls
into a Great Depression.
Haunting stark for the gaunt poor-
Ghostmoney dreams flapped
from the wings
of a mammoth Mammon mastodon.
Ye Caterpillar, 1 october 2012
A jackdaw
at the back door
with a hacksaw
in his black claw
made my back sore
What was that for?
Ye Caterpillar, 3 april 2012
Clean as Light in Space
Photons stream pure - no room for neurotic thought.
Photons stream pure - bouncing off illusory matter, silently.
Photons clean in space travelling-
Colour to the eye, eye to the Mind-
Mind knowing light.
Light in time sagging-
Distorting by gravity's lure-
Stars unborn seen first-
Unborn Mind seeing light between atoms dancing
Moonbeams, friendly white neon-glow
Luminous-clean, no room for stale ideas-
Throw your radiance onto the sea of the earth
Sun on earth, arriving pure - steam rising from damp earth-
Green shoots rising - young teeth and beaks nibbling-
Lizard-eye blinks, glazes, gazes at the sun
Clean as light in space-
Photons stream pure -
Prismatic split spews radiant colour vision in jelly-eye-
No room for darkness here.
Ye Caterpillar, 2 april 2012
Remember, my friends, when we were Free?
Remember the white sunlight on the hot dusty streets?
Remember when songs were sung without looking over our shoulders?
When poems were spoken out loud, in cafes? In the street?
When laughter knew no check, no nervous glance?
Yes my friend, I know you do, even if you can't
Look me in the eye.
Once we danced around a fire - we spoke of whatever came into our Minds -
I know you know this, inside yourself, I know you keep it,
deep inside your secret chest. Under your grey
and inconspicuous coat.
I know you all yearn for the return of a past mode.
But it will take years, war, a revolution -
and then, us survivors will be old.
Yes, we will be old, those of us who live.
Those of us who are not broken by those who wear the black.
Perhaps we'll run together into the evening sun,
stir the ashes of an old song
and look for life in it.
Ye Caterpillar, 1 april 2012
Once you twinkled and sparkled with life in life-
That was then.
Later they abandoned you
and decay rose up out of the Earth to sup
on your juices-
But you didn't mind-
How could you?
Nothing sinister happened-
that's just your imagination,
grinding colourful thoughts.
The odd tramp sneaked in and holed up for a while-
drinking.
The mist that fell that summer night
moved the mind of the poet.
One day, soon, the people
will move back in.
Children will laugh and throw crumbs
out of the old windows-
feeding warbling thrushes and chirping sparrows.
Ye Caterpillar, 1 april 2012
"Who are you?" asked the caterpillar
but I didn't know - so what could I say?
I thought about it for a bit
but realized there was no answer
and this was not a problem.
Ye Caterpillar, 19 march 2012
Old crow
your eyelids are grey
rapidly blinking
some small loose feathers fluttering
on your neck and tail.
Don’t fly away
I want to de-scribe you
I want to tell them
what colour you are.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade