Biida's poetry and narratives

Rustling around here somewhere,
soniferous like leaves in the wind or the pages of old books.
A crinkle in aged eyes --
blue eyes, of the likes never caught, -- and
weather-beaten seams scour tough and leathered skin and yet
Wear no resistance to a child's smile

This I give to you in my inability to be seen, though you hear my voice and know the touch of my hands.

 

Let your light in. I am extant, however quite lost in familiar territory.

Despite the terrible pity, the sweet girl knows what is true. Pity this exuberance. Terrible wanton thought, what without her shackles and shoes... Tut, tut.

The discomforture echoes unnervingly through
everything we take for granted.

 

I feel so insecure and restless this morning. Something very important is missing... Is it your presence? I think it's your presence. It has to be your presence.

It's so quiet.

I want to walk and walk and walk and walk and walk until I find something worth paying attention to. Everything here is a blur of indiscriminate shape and colour; nothing more.

It's too quiet.
The silence is deafening...
Far from golden.

I want to touch myself,
but the smell of my own sex makes me sick
when I throb, an imitated heartbeat.

I crave the pattern of your fingerprints.

 

10/16/06

Your face is a madness of memory
pilfered, my heart now carries taint,
a white light!, reflections of a
red moon -- harvest moon
lit the way along pavement, narrow & firm,
though we nearly fell -

I've fallen from the serpent's back!
in agony I mourn the loss of such a thought
which surrounded a feeling so well that it
was fitting, like a jacket
to go over your tattered silk shirt.

I long for the feel of you.

Sweat turned to rot, my room is acrid,
an acid turned from the juices of our sex.
Mocking, the ash tray reminds me of
your fingertips.

______________

I have a feeling,
it is akin to emptiness although
there is a warmth to it, an energy, a force; tension!
it grows, my fingertips itch with the press of dead air
and my pulse throbs likes a beast in heat...
& that is when it grips me to sing, to write, to express;
to dance and all of that, you know;

It occurs randomly, often amidst great emotion... And often amongst undeterred logic.

______________

There's a secret spot I call
My Pyjama Drawer
Where I keep special things;
the comfy things,
all colours and sizes, -- what wide array! --
and all the things,
that remind me of you,

(the soft things) that you left for me.

________________

Wasting Time / "I love you terribly + wonderfully,"

Mannerisms + Euphenisms --
bright Sheen of a conch shell
Washed up on the gritty shores of the
Shallow seas (sail off!) set sights inside
an empty-upside-down and
blue -- a bright blue! sort of schooner --
a plastic bowl. -- drum drum
​

at sea...

@ sea

-- and I saw the stars
melting from the sky

into a tri-orgasmic puddle of glow
Behind the staircase and upon the hearth

"Mother, Mother, Mother Earth,"
elation -- elevation! + the
dead move skyward faster than before;

A daffodil.

She made me scream
Eureka, love
!

I found the root, gnarled and true

+ lovely,

lovely,
​

my little one.
​

 

Wow, some beautiful and vibrant experience spectrums, all vulnerable and swirling have just gently whispered and rapidly rippled through my being. Many thanks for you continued fragile and intense sharings.

 

You sent an avalanche soaring over the double-paned
Soul-sided sheeting of my glasses,
when
Along the brand new cobbled road we clattered and
in the cream sweet shine of buttery moonlight...

Look, look! Love, I
Caught a bluebird!
&
He said he'll carry us home.

Come low, Lovely;
Let's go home... The lamplight is fading.

 

wonderful, much love and many thanks for sharing.

 

Wai-O-Tapu

Steam rises;
rises,

-- blinds the winged ones to the ways of the world
and rushes, hot & vile through the cavernous
nostirls of the stupid & the slow;
Suspended in a mockery of animation
Our feet scramble for the cool, red earth
and find instead a vicious palette of
Hot red & lime & brown, a
sickly, noisy brown; beware,
For it devours flesh, -- bewarned!
Beware
You strayers of the path
have now found the devil's home,
where no man lives and all is old;
a stony universe, all alone,
We are lifeless in this water...

Cross the terrace as careful as can be,
beautiful child,
& listen to the warning words of Kanuka,
half dead now in her hovel,
soft & vulnerable

______________

It doesn't at all mean what you may think by simply reading it. Religious overtones? Bah!

Look up Wai-O-Tapu and you'll see. I was there earlier today... Yay vacation in New Zealand!

 

New Zealand? Me. Jealous.
I don't know what this means, it sounded more spiritual than religious, calming.

 

A page of empty memories
Confounded by anatomy
all wrong,
all wrong,
Hopeless on a lonely night. We've
nothing more to see here til we're
free. They've nothing,
nothing left to do until they're free.
Magpies on a large-sized scale,
simply left in cages
Not To Be.

Take solace in the
running and the forgotten,
you remembered ones;
We live as you'll never know.
Be thankful for the things you'll never see,
Until we let you free.

 

drip drop pitter patter bare feet
on the sidewalk damp and drizzle -- warm
we found it til the rain came down,
though nothing's falling;
far too sober to stand, she drew instead.

_________________

(Song)

She could tear me apart, too
If she wanted to,
So sad but true, my Ann-Marie

Oh, Ann-Marie,
I wish I knew what to think of you now
Girl, you could have been a woman.

She should have seen more
Than the universe at her fingertips
Then maybe she would have seen
The blood upon a lover's lips
When he fed her to the dogs.

Oh, Ann-Marie, you could have been so free, oh
Love, you could have left with me!

We'd have found an empty tree along
the Screaming Path to
Hide our souls from daddy's wrath

Darling , you could have left with me
Little one, you could have been so free;
Oh, Ann-Marie...

Salamander skin glistens in the rainlight
When she sent me far from home
Into the arms of the single man I couldn't stand
For hurting you, you sent me home
Another notch upon your wooden post,

Ann-Marie, you could have left with me!
Oh, Ann-Marie,
We could have been so free;
Oh, Ann-Marie...

 

Roving dingoes, Yellow dog dingo,
Packs of people,
Hot and thirsty for the sweat of your lips,
we cornered, cut, crossed and brought
about salvation in a drinking cup
a dixie cup to wash a-
way your sins, but I know that
we never
took away your stains
we never took away your stain

See here what we've sewn
please don't plant me here to grow
amongst the dingoes,
dingoes, yellow dog dingo...
lives to run about a barren wild,
Sterile land, we're aging without child,
If I'd known better than I should have known
better than to run about here all alone
save for old man dingo, yellow dog dingo,
Old man dingo, yellow dog dingo, oh..

[Beneath the filthy gods on high when
We just aren't wild
Such as old man dingo knows]

 

It's some other day and I'm a thriver,
Survivor; so sweet, this rush of life!
Water gush and shelter warm...
Time. We've found time, my brothers &
Sisters of the cloth!
Alas, we lack for clothing.

 

11.08.06
Angels, blue and blonde, lounge along the
rooftops of the city -- silver tinsel, snow,
shimmer, shine and sashay across the hall...
The leaves are snowing in October.

 

Strange civilities among
Strangers in the strangest land,
An invasion swept the nation
+ we felt, we led the screams
Until surrender; Revelation!
In our time we stopped the war,
Now if only we can learn
some self control.
Anyone?

One more year and
Two missed kisses
on the stroke of midnight.
Shame wrought us all
Cold upon the floor.
I cannot feel your arms
around me anymore.

 

always loved your poetry