The Kahdoosch bag

Do Not Stand - A parody

2010-09-08T07:18:00.004-01:00

Do not stand on my toe and bleat
I am not here, they're not my feet
I am the throbbing, noisome bunnion
I am the tears brought on by onion
I am the sting of an insect bite
I am the bump in the dead of night
When you stub your toe on a hidden root
I am the sniggering, mirthful hoot
of children hidden in the hedge
I am the slippery window ledge
As you hit the street below
I tell you this so all will know
Do not stand on my foot and squawk
I am not here, I took a walk.

© Kahdoosch 2010

The Merrow in the Mist

2010-09-05T23:58:00.001-01:00

Water... bewitches and beguiles
Solemn music of the angel isle
Harmony of shingle sifting spume between it's scales
Rhythm of the ebb and flow, weaves pattern in the shale
Melody stands, high on wave and crashes down below the saline curve
rises with the coming storm and leaps from foamy tip to sky, observe
A figure far beyond the azure bay
Merrow harp sings sadly to the silent day
And all this in her eyes, her form, her hands
reflects her earthly cadence to the distant land.

© Kahdoosch 2010

Last seen in Meadows

2008-01-25T12:16:00.000-01:00

Write her name on stone?
She IS the stone.
Place her under cloth of grass?
She IS the weave; the warp and weft.
No whispered name
or rime-tang tears
on a northern draft
She IS the air, for the last breath...
Hush now, Mother, rest.

~25 January 2008 11:25 am~

© 2008 Kahdoosch

You Danced on Raindrops

2008-01-05T12:28:00.001-01:00

Drink wine from the wingtips of angels
Throw coins down obsidian wells
Step into the sky on the breath of swallows
Tread softly where daydreams dwell

Held hands by the scales of paper
Lips taste pale olive and kale
Walked through a glimpse of tomorrow
Visions through glass of another vale

You danced on a halo of raindrops
Tears from the gentlest of winds
Carried you over the widest ford
Borne home on a memory of fins

© 2007 Kahdoosch

I am Silk

2007-09-15T15:36:00.000-01:00

I am designed, soft and fine,
Warmth, inside like ruby wine
Proud to be worn
When touching one sublime

Woven around you
Wound and spun
Flowing and supple
Sea spray, mist and gentle fun

Inside me I feel you
Under my skin
Your heat transferred
Your calm within

Some think it’s me
but I am merely drape
The devine I obscure
to those who seek escape.

© Kahdoosch 2007

The Memory of a Kiss

2007-08-16T02:51:00.000-01:00

I would like it to be perfect
The best that I can do
A thing of paper, wood and wax
of panel pins and glue

A litle ink, a little love
Some artists colour, mixed
A touch of patience, care and skill
then all together fixed

I'll hang it on the brightest wall
to catch the light just so
to welcome all that pass this way
to cheer them as they go

I won't make any other
No other quite like this
eternal, it will be, unique...

© 2007 Kahdoosch

You are real

2007-08-11T18:24:00.000-01:00

Did I meet you once?
Did I touch you?
We held hands for a time
I'm sure we did

Then gone, gone away
away on the wind
Like a harpist in the mist,
a piper skirling in swirling fog

You are real in my dreams,
in my blood. You are real
I hear your music,
feel the beat of you

I can dance now
dance to the tune
keeping time, for a time
when you will be here

Of water

2007-08-06T21:30:00.000-01:00

A touch so soft that air can find no victory,
an intimate cleansing, unconditional lover,
a gentle reminder, earth is often bathed,
And so does feel no need for any other

To cleanse all sufferings and tears,
When sufferings and tears are instants past,
To melt away the sorrows and the years,
our time will flow together ‘til the last,

All sufferings will have their cicatrix,
though scars are all but mem’ries of no wound
while water moulds and in it’s form does fix
All thoughts of pain itself remain marooned.

© 2007 Kahdoosch

Soulsmeet

2007-08-06T21:22:00.000-01:00

How can I hold you when you are inside me
How can I see you when you are my eyes
Show me how I can release you forever
Together we rise into Serian skies.

© 2007 Kahdoosch

I Heard the Song

2005-11-16T19:21:00.000-01:00

I heard it once,not in a dream
not in this life, I feel it still
In the rush of blood, the flexing of joints
In the thought born of a moment

I'm glad to be here, glad
here in this Manse of flesh
This imperfect domain, where,
I can laugh and cry in the same instant

In this place I can feel
In this place I can love
In this place I can vanquish
the very soul of torment

In this place I can die,
an exquisite cessation
I heard the song of the universe
It wasn't so important

I heard the song
but life beckons.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Warrior

2005-11-16T19:19:00.000-01:00

I feel I have to 'do' war, once,
just for the experience
After all, it's why I'm here
When I stand in front of the foe,
When the unnamed fist slams the table
Only one of us shall fall
leaving the other to face an uncertain future

Which warior will return years later?
Which of us will lay flowers at the
site of the Blood Mass?
Are the flowers for the routed foe?
Are they for comrades lost?
Or are they for the victor?
One day I may know the answer

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Grand Old Duke

2005-11-16T19:17:00.000-01:00

I climbed a hill, I did it for HIM
I struggled, I toiled
I stubbed my toe often
I stumbled with exhaustion

I knew the hill HAD to be conquered
I had to fight to my last breath
The hill was my enemy
HE had told me so

I reached the summit I found a child
Neither a small nor a large one... Everychild... MY child
It's eyes looked upon eternity
It, most certainly, did NOT smile

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Death of Ercildoune

2005-08-24T13:36:00.000-01:00

I returned to the Eildon tree
No more would lyrics come to me
My trade and craft is sworn away
by Sidhe queen on Lamass day

To roam the earth without good fare
Listening to all others ware
Then finally wither and to die
A pointless bard who cannot lie

Fair price to save a son
who blessed can never be returned
Half human and half Theena shee
But still my son... Forever free

His not to wear the grass-green hose
or lute and sing wherever he goes
My life for a lie... Well, maybe two
Some other child to pay the Devil's due

Still as I sleep against the tree
I dream I'm back under the lea
I rest my head on cloth-of-grass
This once-cursed breath is twice my last

© 2005 Kahdoosch

This is poetry

2005-08-21T03:07:00.000-01:00

Who needs words?

A Cloud of Oranges

2005-08-12T21:43:00.000-01:00

It was the first time they had seen such a thing
Orange trees, mile after mile
As far as the hills allowed
Not a string bag in sight
No bundles in a hyper-market
Natures own on grand display

She walked up the steep winding road
She didn’t like hills, they tired her
In this heat too…
He called for her to hold back
He just had to do it, couldn’t resist

He scooted up a tree,
legs scrabbling, boughs bending
Right at the top - his prize
The highest orange, he plucked it
fell out of the tree in the process

Got it though, dimpled globe
Small twig attached
Two bright green leaves
He wished they were Emeralds
He ‘legged it’ up the hill
She hadn’t stopped, hadn’t heard him

The breeze that had snatched his words
also snatched his breath, as he laboured after her
Finally, he caught up, wheezing
She turned, saw his broad grin
He handed her the fruit with a flourish
She looked at him as if he was nuts
A ‘playing the silly bugger again’ look

On their next visit
The orchards were in bloom
The world turned into a cloud of orange blossom
They had walked for hours under the canopy
Felt like characters from Fantasia
They returned there often

Years later, many years later
On a black tie day
He entered the bedroom, bereft
Started to empty her bedside cabinet
His hand fell on something in the back of a drawer

A desiccated Orange, twig still attached
A pair of Emerald earrings clipped to the twig
He wished they were leaves
It was hard as a cricket ball, burnt umber with age
She’d gone on ahead, always getting to the pitch
while he was still picking the spin

He touched it to his cheek
Held it to his heart
Lay back on the soft bed
It brought her home to him
He closed his eyes, following
The room filled, with the scent of Neroli.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

This

2005-08-11T20:11:00.000-01:00

Fresh as a strawberry
Sharp as a lime
This golden moment
held perfect in time

A fruity companion
so good, so it goes
to sample a bowl
of my love potatoes

A seed replanted
a nurturing food
All that is needed
Continue the brood

Clear as the wind
Startling, like rain
Held perfect in time
to begin time again

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Hinterland

2005-08-10T22:50:00.000-01:00

Looking out, over the edge
Puzzling at the curious, cinnabar, sky
Twilight at dawn, wrong, wrong
Topsy-turvy, like a sated bat
dangling over a bloodless sea

Arms folded against the nip
Too much of everything,
wine, song, creativity, too much
We had made ourselves attractive
Out of place here, sentinels at a silent gate

We had summoned something to feed
in this otherworld, this hinterland,
this border of perception
Peering through the silk screen
at another dimension, a different print

“What, on earth, is that”, pointing.
On the roof, a cat
Feral, snarlsome, blood-red maw
Crouched ready to pounce. Muscle-bristled
under ratty, white fur. Knowing

It’s ‘Ginny Gould’ country this, wary.
Protected dwellings and arcane superstition
We should have stayed in the cottage
Things are drawn to power and there
is… Power here. No doubt about that

The whole place is rooted in bone
The calcium of ages, race memory of evolutions
It’s a tundra of extinct species
Fossil-fed heartland
Oh yes! There is power.

This makes the sensitive anxious
We know this place, this crossing point, sense it
feel it, sucking at the sinew of wills
We step inside the ‘cottage on the chalk’
Feline protection offered and accepted

Then later, back in our own world
The world of porcelain eave-cats,
Familiar guardians of folk-lore
Back, where sunrises and roof ornaments
are exactly how they should be, we rest

© 2005 Kahdoosch

A Violin at Auschwitz

2005-08-07T19:04:00.000-01:00

He stood in the showers
Rank chamber of notoriety
Cocked his solemn chin, began
Bach’s mighty ‘Chaconne’, a solitary violin
The notes spun from bow and finger
Caressed the slick-sickened walls, soothed

He moved down the corridors
Pied fiddler, musterer of souls
They listened, the music lived, they remembered, they came
Enchanted, by vibrant, commanding cadences, ever more insistent.
Melodies spiraling like a rainbow of fanged butterflies
Shredding the gloom, lifting the doomed.

Once, they had been forced to play this
Play what they loved, whilst their loved ones
splintered their nails in torment
Death livored, nauseated
Harmony had died then even as it was given life
He played their tune, flawlessly, emphatically.

The age-crippled doors swung open
Phrasing quickened, igniting the frost-rimed air
Blistering the cold afternoon
Furrowing into the chill earth
Wrenched a sob from every breathless throat
as realisation set in, this was exorcism

My eyes filled, spellbound
He was setting them free
My God... He was setting them free
He ripped away the horrific bars with pure beauty
They followed, they had no choice
A cacophony of shades, fanned out behind him

Out down the track, barbed-wire corridor, rutted, rusted rails
I tasted salt on my lips
Pearls of silent emotion leaked,
trickled steadily over lash, down cheek
I tasted them all, defiantly, every damn one.
Something inside broke away

‘Arbeit Macht Frei’, Work Brings Freedom
This, once falsely promised, now redeemed, howled
outward. Through hated gate, into the winter hinterland
The music released, the fallen, the memories
He tore it all from the jealous clutches of despair
lanced the atrocity with tempered sound

This isn’t merely music, not at all
It isn’t barefaced, unadulterated, humanity
This transcends. The past existing in the present
It is the voice of the shepherd
The song of seraphim
It demands to be followed

As I write, a single tear falls unashamedly
onto the verse, blurs a word, pools
I fancy I can see, in its reflection,
millions of upturned faces
Once dour, tortured, faces, faces that can finally smile
And sink, at last, into the dampening paper, heading home.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Our Speaker Tonight

2005-08-07T01:46:00.000-01:00

The Speaker stood then held her ground
All the others flapped around
Fluttering like tiny birds
None of them had heard a word

A clamour rose, a mighty din
As many voices fought to win
a silence left for words to fill
The Speaker, on her ground, stood still

A warble climbed above the rest
Shrill and thin, but sounding best
" I'm sorry, could you please repeat?"
The Speaker looked down at her feet

She did not know what caused the fuss
Her lips were sealed, the problem thus
She had not caused this wild refute
She could not speak, she was a mute

She only stood because she thought
with shouts we pay for nothing bought
This room's for speakers… She'd perceived
The odd one out, she'd stood to leave

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Temptation

2005-08-05T20:45:00.000-01:00

Leaning over, she kissed me on the lips
I never saw it coming, over the cup, between sips
'I'll bet that surprised you', she offered
It had, but I'd liked it though. Cap Doffed
Forever a winning tactic during scrabble
We'd given up keeping score, just dabbled
Moving onward, passing, biding, time-wasting
Wine and Chesterfields on tongues, tasting
Until later, as the latch snicked into it's keep
Two integrities intact, happily alone to sleep

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Net Meeting

2005-07-28T13:09:00.000-01:00

4 fem or couple, cam2cam only
Well hung male, feeling lonely
Wanna play, ok? Let's start slow
never seen man J/O
Husband at work, Lesbians only please
Do you like asians? You watch, I Tease
Guy, Rick, U.S.N. retired
New J.V.C cam, Hot'n'wired
Virgin@home.com, Break my cherrie
Solo verre e maiale donne hui
Love hair, no soloman
Couple or fem only, cam2cam

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Predators and dead animals

2005-07-25T11:19:00.000-01:00

They bring them in
Frozen, mangled, rictus grin
They line them up
Sunken, as if part melted
onto tile, they bring them in

New pretties for me, mice, birds, voles
Should I twitch them on limber poles?
String them on a stout wide belt
Chastity of warding
Should I tamp them down deep-holes?

Mark their hunting-ground with feather,
jawbones, teeth, scraps of leather
Dried blood and incantations
Potent rune of thorn, unleashed,
unbridled, like night, like weather

Thoughtless, force of nature, lawless
Cause of claw imposed on claw-less
Death-thrown sculpture
Lonely, primitive frisson
Clarity of instinct, flawless

Hunted is as hunter be
All are locked-in, destiny
Unbroken cycles of renewal
Mirrors of denied intent
In rows, laid out for me

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Legionnaire

2005-07-20T19:45:00.000-01:00

It was the water that did for him
Folded into the neryd-hair at the river bank
They found what was left, no food for fishes this
Soused enough to pickle sticklebacks

The long scars down his forearms livid
Like ash streaks on pallid china, bone dead
Gruesome find for superstitious fishermen
Or aged couple, festival weary, life-battlers

I remember him well, ever the character
The climber, tree-sitter, dilly-dallyer.
Used to watch a portable TV in his wardrobe
A better reception guaranteed

Took the final sail, though
no fiery arrow followed the journey
Left some behind to tell the tales
The long the short and the tall, as they say

Always likely to be one of the first to go
Often teased but hard as a pikestaff
Graced the ribbery, with a nod, with a ha-ha,
with an understanding of, more or less, important things, life welts.

Eased by, a knowledge of the true-cut, where
the sinister edge displays the artery.
The brand that never heals,
badge of forewarning.

It was old Glastonbury that saw him pass
Saw the stillness in the warrior
Many years before escaped, hell-sent warrior
A vision of a different kind of war-dead

The ranks of ancient sappers rose,
limbs lifting, drifting out
Beckoning, reclaiming their own.
Never to be seen again.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Sunday Broadsheet

2005-07-19T08:27:00.000-01:00

Has anybody seen my copy of the Sunday telegraph
I left it on the easy chair before I went and had a bath
I didn't take it with me cos I thought it would disintergrate
you can't prevent them getting wet (its far too big in any rate)

I read the second column 'bout a middle eastern woman
who negotiated treaties in a shed on Clapham Common
If she couldn't get the signatures her problem would deteriorate
then she would have to go back home and find a bomb to detonate

I'd just got to the section where she met a german business chap
They dickered over dinner and she went to bed to have a nap
she woke up in the morning she was sickening for a fever
but the doctor gave her anadin (he thought that would relieve her)

So that's where I'd read up to now I don't know how it finished
since my newspaper has disappeared my knowledge is diminished
Don't you hate it when that happens, just like every other mother's son
I'll have to nip out to the shop and try to buy another one

© 2005 Kahdoosch

When all else fails...

2005-07-18T23:48:00.000-01:00

Pus-breathed, shit-legged...
You mickey mouse, motor mouthed,
mechanical monkey man.
Blue based, baboon faced, rat-arsed nicker.
Time thief... Loose leafed bind,
Blow mind, limp grind, snow blind kitty licker.

Come too quick needle prick.
Dim wit, flaky brick,
half baked belly snake
shite sucking sheep lover.

Creepy crawl, crotch fawning,
fly fumbling puke stain.
Lame brain... Dissolute.
Cack tongued catatonic
quadraphonic fart fanatic.

Weak willed pigswill slurping rancid burping twerp admiring blank firing penile warted spine distorted one bawling nappy filling come spilling spew dribbling whine quibbling

Bingewhore

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Celt In Me

2005-07-18T09:48:00.000-01:00

A drop of the jallop
The 'Pint' they call 'The Black'
Elbow raise, WALLOP
Pat on the back
One glass, another glass
“Pass me the porter”
Off to the ‘Church’
For some more 'holy water'
Switch to the 'Barleycorn'
A song in the 'Heart’
Hail fellow, well met
In sorrow do we part
The Bodhran, Uilean
The bloody singin' fiddle
Drum, Bow and Bagpipe
Another Jimmy riddle?
Stagger down weepy lane
Family dismissed
Not really sorry
Just fock’n pish'd

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Boat Race

2005-07-17T15:51:00.000-01:00

So, I'm sat there
on the rowing machine
Cox's view of the 'varsity race
before me on the screen

At this point I should mention
I'm in my living room
Stacks of 'fitness monthly'
piled behind me in the gloom

I'm waiting for the magic words "they're off"
I tense because I hear the umpire cough
a pistol shot, then, pull, pull, the Cox's cry
I feel the muscles, taut, along my inner thigh

My rhythm quickly sought and duly found
A glance towards the enemy confirms we're losing ground
The cox picks up the pace to close the gap
The wind, in frank reply, removes his cap

I knew my efforts, good enough to win the tie
were doomed before the starting shot had split the sky
I knew... I heard the umpire clear his throat
Why did they put the camera in the losing boat?

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Two Shrines

2005-07-17T11:58:00.000-01:00

What of that day
The day before the shrines
When they came to toil
not to worship a bleak, rapacious god
Where two gods would hope to meet
the temple becomes a place of inneffable sadness

Was it a day for the innocent
Cheery faced lambs giving their flesh
willingly for the common table
or, a day when achievement stood, unashamedly erect
Before a lesser, but ultimately more potent, hard-on
exploded in the belly of free enterprise

Was it known then that the result
of such a malignant union
would boil forward, demanding
ever more from it's mother's breasts
Their purpose violated, ill-redeemed
with many, ever more, venomous ejaculations

Did the Gods shake trembling hands
in thoughtful, rapturous wonder
Marveling at the perfection
of kin-wrought artifice
Then, did they shrivel in dismay as meat and stone mingled
As spirit fled before the unholy spend

Do they not understand
We do this for the sake of freedom
Do they not understand
We do this for the sake of peace
Do they not understand
We do this in their name

It is our offering to them
Can they not see
how much we love them

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Precis

2005-07-17T11:34:00.000-01:00

Time - Tick tock

The Client - Knock knock

Mystery - Blah blah

Discovery - Ah haa

A Dark Figure Steps from out of the Shadow - Uh oh

The Story - So far

Conclusion - Dodo

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Overheard on a Salt Marsh

2005-07-14T10:30:00.000-01:00

Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?

Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me, give them me.

No.

Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.

Goblin, why do you love them so?

They are better than stars or water
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.

Hush, I stole them out of the moon.

Give me your beads, I want them.

No.

I will howl in a deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.

No.

This poem isn't one of mine, it was written by a 19th century poet, Harold Munro.

For me it has a haunting quality, something that catches in the back of your subconscious but defies description.

I've often wondered what was going through his mind when he wrote it.

GAOIS

2005-07-13T16:06:00.000-01:00

Fahide lapop
ek widuhudaR
ek unwodiR
ek unwodiR
inarunaR arageu
haeramalaus R
auja alawin
alawin auja

Translation...

HOWLER

I have made the invocation
Me, dog of the forest
Me without rage
Me without ecstasy
carriers of pariah magic
without rest unencumbered
chance with you, friend in all
friend in all, chance with you

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Ye Gods

2005-07-05T14:29:00.000-01:00

The bleary eyed mirror God
Saggy, baggy, poorly shaved
The Deity desire
Inside my breast enslaved

The late-night, outright, fever Fetish
Warm and damp and tired
The ‘secret longing’ Effigy
At all costs he must hide

The God of things I like to keep
His Acolyte, the past
This Demon… Whom I do not like
So taunts me to the last

The Idol ‘sitting silently’
His Nemesis, the phone
Resounding, shrouded Banshee wails
Reminding me… I’m not alone

A dark and hungry, vengeful Sprite
Who tends to dine in shame
The Fetch in the subconscious
I can never grasp the name

A pantheon of satyrids
Since Chrysalis have grown
All these gods I now obey
And worship as my own

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Unity of Nations

2005-07-05T14:00:00.000-01:00

My nation is Labia, divided and conquered to the hilt
My nation is Condom, pushed too far, driven past breaking point
My nation is Priapus, erected and blown down
My nation is dominance, see the new country.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Unity

2005-07-01T17:01:00.000-01:00

Nothing lovelier than twilight beauty
If the Moon, once again,
kissed mother Earth
The Dawn would last forever
No other light would compare

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The little things (Apology to Gaia)

2005-06-30T02:18:00.000-01:00

How sweet it is to feel again
My blade malicious sliding into flesh
To see the flicker in your eyes dismay
And life’s fresh humour fade from rose to blue
Each time my careful weapon takes your life
None see you die, nor, best of all, do you
No epitaph or granite marks your grave
No loving flame, with sorrow, sparks your Pyre
I smile, obscene with gloating, hidden now
As bleeding in your cherished dreams you tire
Another hopeful wave dashed on the crag
Once mighty breaker ebbing now in rills
You die so many times and yet are hale
And, oh, so eager, to be slaughtered still
Each glistening wound throb with remembered pain
Desire’s blood ever flowing, never pooled
To kill and not be caught is my delight
A death less crude than mere oblivion
As man I sin and watch you fade and fade
Your piecemeal massacre is my charade.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Travellers

2005-06-24T18:06:00.000-01:00

"We are lovers" they said
But when all said and done, isn't everyone?
In everything we see
A shape comes to us that we can admire
Between A and B
A quarter-century of worlds
Glitter amongst the alphabet and wait to be found
Each dared to show another
all they saw amid the scattered words

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Nightly Invasion

2005-06-20T13:20:00.000-01:00

Ghost giggles on silent feet
A thought interrupted
Now competes
with glimpse of mother’s eyes
Past, present and future
Sapphire re-inherited from clay.

Coal-tint mop given way to
mobile summer corn
Sudden flirting, stillness, to fleeting, stifled, yawn
Hidden and expectantly explicit
pseudo-silence
hoping for attention.

Settled anew into yielding lap
Precursed to luxury, coddling
the eye’s
epicanthic denouement
‘til sack-carried
upward to dampen the folds with
soon-sticky sleep.

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Use of Words

2005-06-20T12:30:00.000-01:00

I know the longest one
Floccinaucinihilipilification
I've never used it, not in speech
In conversation, nor to teach
No use to poets, you can see by the above
It doesn't metre not for money or for love
In essence, I'm not sure that folk would know
The meaning of the ebb and flow
Of syllables meant to confuse
And so this word I'll never use

Looks like I've gone and done it now
I've hitched the wild horse to the plough
Who knows what' that will turn up next
What gnarley root lies hidden in a line of text
I know… I find it easy to define
The words I use, when they are mine
For others it might not be clear
An abstract word they're forced to hear
Ah well! It's done, although I never meant
A wasted word but nonetheless, well spent

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Collaborators

2005-06-20T08:19:00.000-01:00

Invaded land... Fed by flesh
Without the collaborators
All the sons of the land will perish
The invasion would be complete
Collaborators consume the invaders
and breed a new people
The land lives on

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Dance

2005-06-20T07:40:00.000-01:00

'Not stooping
dancing
'Not squirming at the end of a bright, barbed gaff
I'm dancing

'Not a flesh musician, in the dark hours
Stroking away at a tired instrument
'Not scrawping the wounds of a thousand flea-feasts
I'm dancing

'Not stopping the dance
Just because you think I look awkward
Just because you can't find the rhythm
I'm dancing

© 2005 Kahdoosch

A Trip To McDonalds

2005-06-20T07:30:00.000-01:00

Go... Romantic creature
Could I perhaps clutch and drink your hot liquid
or may I taste the warm creamy blaze between your buns?
If love is passion
Go... Consume it

One's desire is delicious
Open polymer petals and inspire some familiar liquid rhythms
Then to finally devour is unrivalled, sweet agony
Yet to never taste again
would be pure-felt fever

© 2005 Kahdoosch

The Playground

2005-06-20T00:10:00.000-01:00

I watched a colony of ants
Their nest shattered
Eggs scattered
By what, to them, must have been
a natural catastrophe

The first priority was the next generation
How they slaved
Eggs saved
The recovery seemed chaotic
yet so organised

Paths crossed, re-crossed, intertwined
The eggs unspilled
Nest rebuilt
Routines returned to normal, waiting
for the next pointed stick

It had begun to rain
The stick dropped
Hoods flopped
over happy round faces, as mothers
rushed forward unfolding umbrellas

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Claudia

2005-06-19T20:30:00.000-01:00

On Satin paws, the spectre in my room
A fragment of wilderness... Stalks the gloom
Creeps on carpet, hunts the shadow prey
Becomes a wooly purr... Once comes the day

© 2005 Kahdoosch

LES FENETRES by Jacques Brel

2005-05-19T17:25:00.000-01:00

The windows look in
As if waiting for our deaths
As if our final breaths
Were awaited by the world
The windows laugh at us
When they see how we behave
When they see what we believe
When they hear the words we hurl
The windows cry
In the dawn’s phlegmatic light
For the dead who lie
In the old cemetery
But the windows curse and frown
And wish they could pull down
Or somehow see around
The great oak tree

The windows mutter to themselves
When the afternoons bring rain
That beats against the pane
Forming streams upon the glass
The windows sing aloud
When autumn comes aggrieved
Blowing dead and fallen leaves
Down the street where people pass
The windows stay closed tight
When the frosts of winter bite
And the snow lies thick and white
On the parapet and frame
But they open wide once more
When the girls pass by the door
Just like they used to do before
The bitter winter came

The windows watch over
The child we used to hold
Who, encircled by the old,
Takes his first few steps
The windows smile
When at fifteen years of age
As if freed from a cage
The child seeks adult depths
But the windows scowl and seethe
The windows threaten me
When with audacity
I frankly speak my mind
The windows follow me
All I do they see
I’ve no way to break free
From my home’s all-seeing eyes

JE SUIS UN SOIR D'ETE by Jacques Brel

2005-05-19T17:11:00.000-01:00

In the old city hall
The tables are laid
At the lord mayor’s banquet
We’re served orangeade
And tepid champagne
With the dazed glassy eyes
Of the gloomy young girls
Who wait on us tonight

I am a summer evening

With the windows wide open
The families who dine
Push back their plates
And look out at the night
Where the last light of day
Is not yet quite dead
And brush the tablecloth crumbs
Off the balcony’s edge

I am a summer evening

The terraces fill
People take drinks outside
And speak of their work
And the joys of their lives
It’s hard to remember
The cold winter days
In the sweet summer air
And in alcohol’s haze

I am a summer evening

By the bank of the river
Two girls take a walk
In soft voices they talk
Of the soldiers they miss
While the black waters splash
And lap on the stone
While the river boats drone
Where reflected lights flash

I am a summer evening

By the fountains the old men
Sit with their sticks
With eyes bright reminisce
How it was different then
They laugh toothless laughs
Then are silent again
And watch the girls and young men
Dancing under the stars

I am a summer evening

SUR LA PLACE by Jacques Brel

2005-05-17T16:46:00.000-01:00

In the square, in the baking sun
A dark eyed girl began to dance
And it seemed to me it was the dance
Of the dancers of antiquity
In the old town's sweltering heat
Drowsy men and women stare
Through open shuttered windows at
This girl dancing at mid-day there

Sometimes on such sacred days
A flame burns brightly in our eyes
In the church where I once went
They told me that this was our God
But the lover calls it love
The beggar charity
The sun calls it the day
And the good man sympathy

In the square, in the shimmering air
Where not even a dog appears
Suddenly I see her there
The girl who comes as if from nowhere
Without guitar or tambourine
To accompany her steps
She simply claps her painted hands
To give rhythm to her dance

Sometimes on such sacred days
A flame burns brightly in our eyes
In the church where I once went
They told me that this was our God
But the lover calls it love
The beggar charity
The sun calls it the day
And the good man sympathy

In the square, in the burning silence
A dark eyed girl began to sing
The song she sang filled the square
A hymn of love and kindness
But the day is turning hotter still
And no one wants to hear her sing
The men close all the windows fast
Like doors between the dead and living

And sometimes on such sacred days
A flame burns brightly deep inside
Yet we never see its rays
Cursed to live without its light
We place our hands against our ears
Turn our eyes towards the dark
We fear to watch the clocks
Of our already aged hearts

In the square a dog is howling
The dark eyed girl I cannot see
It seems to me it howls in dying
Crying out our destiny

~ Jacques Brel ~

Kurved Radio

2005-02-16T11:13:00.000-01:00

ok, Druid Rave
i Devour DaRk
ouR kiD raved
uk Road Drive

u daRker voiD
kuRved raDio
Rue Dark void
kuRved raDio

uk via reD Rod
Re avioD kurd
a Dour Rev kid
iRk ouvre daD

our aRk diveD
kuRved raDio
ouR dark Dive
kuRved raDio

adoRe Dr kivu
adoRe Dr kivu
adoRe Dr kivu
adoRe Dr kivu

© 2005 Kahdoosch (aka Eduard Kirov ;-))

Driftwood

2005-02-16T10:00:00.000-01:00

Looks like I really missed the signs
I’ll have to run back now and stand in line
Most things went floating by
It took my mind that so would I, well
Now they’re calling time
The tide came roll-in-in
I had no reason to suppose that
I could sink or swim
Been goin’ so long with the flow. Spent
so much time downstream
And now, I’m driftwood

(Chorus)

Driftwood, washed right out to sea
Driftwood, too washed out to feel
Shape me any way you choose
Things you gain you sometimes lose
Time will come I’ll drift right out of here

(Instrumental Talkover)

Walkin’ on the road I saw my pretty little Mo
Thought I’d take her to a party so I asked her if she’d go
She was lookin kinda sheepish on account of Shaky Joe
So... first she said yes and then she said no
I guess I had it comin, I confess...

I’m just too damn slow, now
Bones are getting old, now
Best if I go, now
Hit the road, now
All alone... I'm driftwood

© 2005 Kahdoosch

Some Villanelle

2005-02-15T15:28:00.000-01:00

She’s coming back
It’s a circle
Follow me
Like a dream
This time
Not all the time
It’s a circle
She’s coming back

It’s a line
She’s going on
Follow me
This time
Not all the time
Like a stream
She’s going on
It’s a line.

She’s here and now
It’s a constant
Stay with me
This time
Like a sea
Not all the time
It’s a constant
She’s here and now

It can’t be found
Like a breeze
It works fine
Like a scene
Yeah, all the time
This time
It is what it is, I think you’ll find
Accommodate it, let us make up our own damn minds

© 2005 Kahdoosch