Disco in China.

8th Oct 20188th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My copy.

Quite, alone
trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on
in the cafe.

Yes…disco!

Donner Summer I think
“Love To Love You Baby”.
My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud,
drifting swiftly by.
Tantalizingly floating
from 1975.

It was up there, the
sky still high,
and a richness in the land.
I hear the song
so clearly now.

Sunday Morning Moments.

7th Oct 20187th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Hulusi.

For this Sunday morning, fate
has already brought me noise
and colour.

A wedding procession at 6:30 AM.
Two taxi drivers and a contentious
dispute.

And down the road
someone is practicing hulusi scales,
over and over again.
Music that is hard to grow to.

But from the clear morning sky,
and an unwrapped Sunday morning.
It is amusing to see how life,
past imperfect, spills out
and no longer screams of fear.

A Change of Habit

6th Oct 20186th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

Angus Young (www,acdc.com)

A woman told me today that
I needed a girlfriend,
a Chinese girlfriend and that
she knew someone.

I ask her why?

“Some women like poets
and I think you are lonely”

I told her Bukowski said that
‘Love is a dog from hell’

“What has love got to do with it”
She said.

But then she told me she was not
sure about her friend.

I asked her why?

“Well, I don’t think she will like
AC/DC, and maybe she can’t
understand you”

So I asked her to tell her friend,
not to worry about how
we the fashion the future.

Or how many people come
together by slow degrees.

A Place of Solitude

6th Oct 20187th Oct 2018 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

A Wandering Poet

As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.

Blogging

Disco in China.

Quite, alone
trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on
in the cafe.

Yes…disco!

Donner Summer I think
“Love To Love You Baby”.
My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud,
drifting swiftly by.
Tantalizingly floating
from 1975.

It was up there, the
sky still high,
and a richness in the land.
I hear the song
so clearly now.

Sunday Morning Moments.

For this Sunday morning, fate
has already brought me noise
and colour.

A wedding procession at 6:30 AM.
Two taxi drivers and a contentious
dispute.

And down the road
someone is practicing hulusi scales,
over and over again.
Music that is hard to grow to.

But from the clear morning sky,
and an unwrapped Sunday morning.
It is amusing to see how life,
past imperfect, spills out
and no longer screams of fear.

A Change of Habit

A woman told me today that
I needed a girlfriend,
a Chinese girlfriend and that
she knew someone.

I ask her why?

“Some women like poets
and I think you are lonely”

I told her Bukowski said that
‘Love is a dog from hell’

“What has love got to do with it”
She said.

But then she told me she was not
sure about her friend.

I asked her why?

“Well, I don’t think she will like
AC/DC, and maybe she can’t
understand you”

So I asked her to tell her friend,
not to worry about how
we the fashion the future.

Or how many people come
together by slow degrees.

A Place of Solitude

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt
with ‘Hue’ on the front.
Even though I knew it was too small,
it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life,
just three people in a moment.
Awake to the filtered sunshine,
that occupies most of our days.

Quite, alone trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on in the cafe.

Yes…disco!

Donner Summer I think “Love To Love You Baby”. My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud, drifting swiftly by. Tantalizingly floating from 1975.

It was up there, the sky still high, and a richness in the land. I hear the song so clearly now.

For this Sunday morning, fate has already brought me noise and colour.

A wedding procession at 6:30 AM. Two taxi drivers and a contentious dispute.

And down the road someone is practicing hulusi scales, over and over again. Music that is hard to grow to.

But from the clear morning sky, and an unwrapped Sunday morning. It is amusing to see how life, past imperfect, spills out and no longer screams of fear.

A woman told me today that I needed a girlfriend, a Chinese girlfriend and that she knew someone.

I ask her why?

“Some women like poets and I think you are lonely”

I told her Bukowski said that ‘Love is a dog from hell’

“What has love got to do with it” She said.

But then she told me she was not sure about her friend.

I asked her why?

“Well, I don’t think she will like AC/DC, and maybe she can’t understand you”

So I asked her to tell her friend, not to worry about how we the fashion the future.

Or how many people come together by slow degrees.

It’s been fifty five years since this car dropped off Thích Quảng Đức in downtown Saigon, and now it’s sitting right along the Perfume River at the Thien Mu pagoda in Hue ( second picture, I took)

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu in the ward of Hương Long in Huế, to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother and daughter, who offered me tea and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite, just the engine of the boat, wet and gutted. Another failed lung, a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed river and smiling seductively, the daughter tried to sell me things. T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt with ‘Hue’ on the front. Even though I knew it was too small, it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life, just three people in a moment. Awake to the filtered sunshine, that occupies most of our days.

Quite, alone
trying to write a poem.

And Disco comes on
in the cafe.

Donner Summer I think
“Love To Love You Baby”.
My mother liked this.

A sunny cloud,
drifting swiftly by.
Tantalizingly floating
from 1975.

It was up there, the
sky still high,
and a richness in the land.
I hear the song
so clearly now.

For this Sunday morning, fate
has already brought me noise
and colour.

A wedding procession at 6:30 AM.
Two taxi drivers and a contentious
dispute.

And down the road
someone is practicing hulusi scales,
over and over again.
Music that is hard to grow to.

But from the clear morning sky,
and an unwrapped Sunday morning.
It is amusing to see how life,
past imperfect, spills out
and no longer screams of fear.

A woman told me today that
I needed a girlfriend,
a Chinese girlfriend and that
she knew someone.

“Some women like poets
and I think you are lonely”

I told her Bukowski said that
‘Love is a dog from hell’

“What has love got to do with it”
She said.

But then she told me she was not
sure about her friend.

“Well, I don’t think she will like
AC/DC, and maybe she can’t
understand you”

So I asked her to tell her friend,
not to worry about how
we the fashion the future.

Or how many people come
together by slow degrees.

I took a boat trip to Thien Mu
in the ward of Hương Long in Huế,
to see a celestial lady.

The boat was run by a mother
and daughter, who offered me tea
and smiles that wanted us all.

Inside it was quite,
just the engine of the boat,
wet and gutted.
Another failed lung,
a small sound that was all sounds.

Always pleading with the perfumed
river and smiling seductively, the
daughter tried to sell me things.
T-shirts, postcards of old Vietnam
and oversized conical hats.

So I bought a t-shirt
with ‘Hue’ on the front.
Even though I knew it was too small,
it seemed the right thing to do.

There was no imitation of life,
just three people in a moment.
Awake to the filtered sunshine,
that occupies most of our days.