shorts or a sarong,
prawns, cold beer, a paper hat.
happy oz xmas

god in a closet
pretending to be human
whose daydream are you?

Southern Nevada
Something-or-another Gulch
I know this place well

Maybe Mexico
a day northbound of La Paz
I know this place well

Or Arizona
canyonlands north of Flagstaff
I know this place well

A wide open road
to a point in the distance
I know this place well

What is this bounty?
This vast richness unmeasured!
It's ours forever!

Is the illusion
eluding you my darling?
have another sip

New from Microsoft
Computers for Windows
Gates has a winner

Such a family smell
Cinnamon, cloves, and oatmeal,
Christmas beer brewing.

No hell below us,
just a rolling sunlit lawn.
Above us only sky.

Orbs in mystic flight,
Spectral spheres bring joy or fear.
On what plane am I ?

vengeful Medea
my perfect wanton goddess
never shall I stray

as the world flows by
I wonder what my fate will be,
if I look away

Hard landings result
when harsh realities meet
A flight of fancy

a world loosely limned
carries off the unjaded
in happy rapture

black dog for Winston
he was a lousy gambler
dice rolling in blood

my hands to my ears
blocking other's siren songs
yet my own sings on

un-giant's causeway,
a non-Ikea non-room,
the outside unclosed.

Branches reaching far.
Grab and hold the giant star.
Dismayed, darkness falls

fragile translucence
made quick by the sun's first touch
the infant stirs

needle to heaven
for the god-kings to look down
upon their spittoon

worlds burning in war
stars dance around makara
all transformation

taramasalata, anyone?

Okay, time to try something a bit different. Previously everything was pivoting around me (as schoolmaster, ha ha). Fact is, I have no great desire to be that fellow. I'd just like to write some haiku, and read other people's, and otherwise have a bit of a laugh.


To this end let's try making the whole thing a bit more democratic. Rather than me posting a pic and selecting the best haiku that I add to the front page, I'll open the front page to whomever wants to post. They may post a pic, or some music (linked to box.net for download kind of thing), or whatever, with their own bit of poetry underneath it. Actually if you just want to post a naked haiku without any pic at all, that sounds fine to me. And then with that as our inspiration, the rest of us pile into the comments, and off we go. There will no be selection of 'best' or anything like that.

So! Rather than a class with teacher handing out gold stars it will be more like a poetry evening with people taking turns to wax rhapsodic. And the comments will serve as the 'red-wine-with-jatz-and-taramasalata' banter afterwards, if you can dig it. It's so much more grown up this way I think. Oh, and it's byo red wine and taramasalata, ha ha.


I sent out invites to the regulars already, and Buff (otherwise unprompted) started the ball rolling. Very good! The only thing I'd add is that since it's your pic Buff, you get to stick your haiku beneath it (PS - done already). I haven't quite figured out the invite thing yet and I'm not sure who did or didn't receive them. Best I can figure, you need a blogger account. And I think I need your email in order to invite you. If you want to post on the front page (Hi Su, you up? Other John?) I think the best thing would be to send me a 'DON'T PUBLISH' comment over at the church with your address in it, and then I can add you to the list. If you don't care for that (and I can't say I blame you), well, there's always the comments.

I do admit that the possibility exists that this will crash and burn if too many people all pile in at once. I don't want to dictate how often a new entry should go up but, I think one a day is a bit much. I'm thinking one every three days or so would work better.

PS No need for any criticisms of what's posted. Life's too short, and haiku are too. Post/don't post, comment/don't comment, that's all there is to it. As ever, we seek the sublime, and if we can't have that, we'll just have a laugh. Yoroshiku!

Imagination
Opens doors to many worlds
All inside our heads

in this delusion,
anything beyond one's grasp
isn't really real.

On the wings of love
Does maternalism shine
In uncertain times.

---

opaque delight abounds
the angel and the child
both awake whilst sleeping.

---

asleep with angels,
from dreams to reality;
tranquil smiles to all.

---

caring is a gift
love posted as a letter
returns to sender

Stillness beckons me
Moving forward through the air
Encompassing all

---

Stillness abounding,
river flows 'neath a full moon,
a life filled with peace.

---

blossom in moonlight
with gentle architecture
in structures sublime

---

Eventide on empty vale
Spirits roam but are not seen
To rest and ponder

---

The waters of life
nourishing sakura dreams
until tomorrow

---

A moonlight kiss at night
Water's affection glows bright
Their love, makes things light

---

the struggled control over
finally relaxing into the flow
i return to the source

once, effortless friend
now, brigand thief of my youth
i curse you daily

---

Iris, who are you,
do you look out or within,
where does one begin?

---

Golds, browns, black, and white.
Nothing reflected but light.
Nothing gained but sight.

---

some buddhists insist
this eye is only crying
light in water out

---

And the Eyes have it!
Or was it really the nayes?
Blink and change your mind.

---

truth is in the eye
some can't hide an empty dark
in others it's love

---

Neither the seer
nor the object seen
but the pure unalloyed seeing.

---

Can the brain deceive,
what it is the eye perceives?
If so, what is real?

The barcode of life,
sits and awaits a purchase.
Who's for sale? How much

---

The barcode is id.
It is yourself, most basic
nothing else matters

Scan us or track us,
Count us as inventory.
UPC restrains

---

The mark of the Beast
In the shades of black and white
It's all about you

---

you can't brand nature,
monsanto's lawyers busy,
soon, all cataloged.

nothing natural
dares be immutably straight;
the devil's details?

---

more than a number
i will not be bought or sold
packaged and processed

---

these black and white stripes
"save time" for "the management"
while "you" wait in line ''''''''''''''''''''''

don't worry, we won't
censor your barcode unless
it says "enlightened"!

---

hidden in a code.
natures wisdom is challenged.
such bitter harvest

Jacques-Louis David

The fellow in the picture is Jacques-Louis David. He's described as the man who brought 'feeling' back to Western art after it had collapsed into the insipidness of rococo. I'll be honest and say I have a problem with this use of the word 'feeling'.


As for David, it's a big call to say he single handedly invented Neoclassicism, but for the sake of space, let's do it. His watershed break was his Oath Of The Horatii. Says David - bugger picnics and pooncing about, real men take up arms, sobbing women or no.


Art is art unless it's politics and David's head was there. One wonders if there was ever a painter as politically ambitious as David. He was a Jacobin, a member of the Committee of Public Safety, and otherwise up to his armpits in the French Revolution. Whilst he's not as famous in this regard as Robespierre say, depending on how you look at it, the revolution could not have succeeded without him.


He was to the Revolution what Goebbels was to the National Socialists and effectively functioned as their propaganda minister. His paintings (maxed out with the uber-famous Death of Marat) served, indeed were conceived of, precisely as variations of agitprop. The painting of Marat was the rallying point for the huge march to the National Convention, all the trappings of which David also designed, along with those of many others. In fact the National Socialists took tremendous inspiration from David in coming up with their various rallies and propaganda events. David was there first.


Um... there's actually a lot to be said for the French Revolution. And there seems to be a lot to be said for Robespierre too. At the time he was known as 'the incorruptible' - he lived, dressed, and ate modestly. Had he said he wasn't a crook no one would have sniggered. That aside, his desire for a unified France free of the parasitic aristocracy is, on its face, laudable. Unsurprisingly we only know of him as a bloodthirsty unleasher of chaos. I'm not saying he wasn't, it's just that it's not that simple.


And then there's David. He swore to Robespierre that if he was killed, he, David, would join him. But on the day in question he called in sick and Robespierre died on his own. So much for that. Sure enough, in the collapse of the revolution and the lead up to the First Republic he was prosecuted and jailed. But nothing too dreadful - back in the day if you had money, jail could be quite pleasant: furniture, good food, servants. But he wasn't there long, and on his release, and before you could say 'Je suis un rockstar', there's David as Napoleon's official portraitist. Napoleon spookily enough, is depicted by David, the scourge of the aristocracy, in a fashion that would have done any aristocrat proud.


So what is this 'feeling' that he brought to art? Are they his feelings? His painting seem uniformly sterile - a hint of arrogance perhaps. In terms of a painting conveying the feelings of the artist compare David to just about any of the masters of the Renaissance. Take a quick jog through Giotto to Da Vinci, and Caravaggio, even Vermeer and Canaletto, and you'll know more of the artist than David will ever tell you.


David's 'feeling' would more correctly be described as 'what he would have us feel'. And what he'd have us feel is political arousal, which is to say righteous anger (and later awe for the dictator). We are his to be pushed in the direction of his choosing. He's precisely a didact. Do didacts have feelings? Who can tell? Is ambition a feeling? Or arrogance? How about self regard?

Of blood and terror
caught upon the minds canvas
This work is my self

---

who be i tonight
friend or foe
i so easily interchange

---

I leave this record
for posteriority
the assholes to come

---

for left i look down,
for right lifts me once again;
yay, consternation.

---

Two faces in one
Human discord on display
Who are you today?

---

one great artist said
"Light is a great temptation."
I cover white light.

---

last chance for a verse?
creativity revolts
one more basket case

---

In the masculine realm of the outer
I move in strides of determination
Wide eyed, alert and lacking fear
I am indeed master of my destiny

Moving in strides of determination
I don’t see the trees weep
Wide eyed, alert and fearless
Of all but the space within

My persona carefully maintained
Which with brush captures the luminous light
Yet avoids this vast emptiness within
As if to be this space would equal sin

Oh this huge space which spins within
That provides the impulse to capture unfolding scenes
Wide eyed, alert and lacking fear
Except to confront the inner body's tears

The vastness of the divine within
Which biblically has been taught as sin
Prevents me from seeing the trees weep
And leads me to another sip of gin.

medical contest
fix this sick hermaphrodite
win a Mercedes

post presidency
who guessed my next job offer
prison sex dummy

"one face here fits all"
the corporation insists
"open wide, and scream."

---

completely replaceable
now what goes where i wonder
jane, where is the brochure?

so the new age gurus
tell me i a create my reality
but how do i breathe?

---

We all fall apart.
Science only goes so far,
and then what is left?

---

The new and improved
Mister Potatohead doll
Not for the children

---

science solutions
secret the soul immortal
everything's for sale

---

Is it GI Joe?
It is He. He becomes she.
She is Barbie!

I need a new part
Go to the new limb warehouse
Buy more and pay less

gently you cradle
seeing no imperfection
sing to me again

---

forever i will gaze at you
with the deepest awe and wonder
love truimphs over hate

---

you took the deep trip
pure vulnerability, this time.
I got your back, son

---

life is as you see
emotion love and caring
only for your own

---

choked miracle
love and water quietly coax
life to flow again

---

take care in darkness
hold close with a gentle hand
to an unseen love

don't pick up the cash
there is nothing you can buy
that can save your soul

---

crumple up the coloured portraits
into tight little balls
proceed to ignite

---

banksters celebrate

your life is their confetti

your gold for their straw

---

I see ER 2
Far too much in this photo
A ponzi scheme, no?

---

Leaving the toilet
He gave me a dollar bill

Didn't wash his hands

---

Money world over,

Economic Recession,

Everyone wants some!

---

Colourful money
Colours the understanding

of papers real worth

---

silly consumer
which shell is the pea under?
None. It's in your brain.

--

all the money gone
banks broken with lies, insane

now we must eat words

the past on his back
emotion barks at his heel
eyes look to heaven

---

With thoughts in his mind
Not looking where he's going
He walks unaware.

---

turning from the light
now his feet in darkness fall
a friend begs him, turn

---

He's Nobodys fool.
But he's the only fool we have.
His life is a joke.

---

In his search for bliss
the stupid American
lemmings to the cliff

---

Be quiet dumb beast!
I am man, and you are not
what could you tell me?

---

Joker, jestor and clown
Years spent searching for myself
Ha, the laughs on me

---

He's a silly fool
aware of nothing is he
but jestic and simplific beauty.

---

listen if you were wearing
such a silly frock
you too would contemplate the leap.

---

why not take a trip?
what better place to do it
than right here right now?

---

Led by the idiot box,
the Fool states: "even a fool
knows any fool will do."

---

Pick a card, Descartes,
any card. I'll bet you I
don't know what it is.

Shen Ling meets Gauguin
on sumptuous carpet-beach
they make purple waves

---

A lost weekend spent
behind drawn shades, the goddess
is insatiable

---

Clothes, trash, everywhere!
Yes, all in the name of sex,
What a mess we made!

---

Colours glow, images flow
right now desire reigns
tomorrow it becomes hate

---

fuschia intrusion
her boudoir in chaos reeks
immodesty reigns

---

Purple waves of Bliss
Torrents open with a kiss
Flows of Ecstacy

Creates a Chaos
Of arms, legs, warm sweating flesh
Clinging, close, climax

---

Penang hotel room
Once this was a great mansion
Where rich people lived

---

Resting on his knee.
Is this the time to tell him?
Wait til tomorrow.

---

desire is strong
return again and again
into new bodies

It doesn't take much,
step back, zoom out, keep going!
Where is the me now?

---

clown google-earth's it
with her back to the big show
zazen with a twist

---

The world's our oyster,
With technology it shrinks,
Come and play in it!

---

the world is a feast
but psychopaths don't get it
they bite the table

---

Over here we see
An historic piece we think,
early GPS

---

Dorothy clicked her heels.
Then went back to Kansas
There's no OZ there anywhere.

---

greedy eyes and hand
chart conquest and empire
make slaves of the world

---

And here be Dragons
Fiery breath, leather wings
Cast shadows on lands

buff and on my duff
sitting thinking about stuff
my piles cry, enough!

---

Then Rodin's masterpiece
looked right at him and said: "I
am, therefore I think..."

---

He sits there thinking,
About what, no one can tell,
Still he sits and thinks.

---

'Kay, now where was I
The last time I saw my keys?
Were they over there?

---

Made of bronze and stone,
Perhaps he thinks of life, while
People stare at him.

---

To ponder and understand
seemed like such a good idea
and now I am like stone

---

Ponderment of life,
A crucial problem to solve;
Wherefore art mine clothes?

---

If I think I am,
then I am. But, if I am?
What an am I am!

thought submerged in dream
with wreckage of a world lost
move towards the sun

---

Alone I stand in
the misty swamp, but am
I really alone here?
_

Quiet and calm, in
the misty visage of time,
we will remain strong!

---

The Outback of Oz
Stood 'Murchadh the Sea Warrior'
This picture he took.

---

steam the black logs first
drop into colander, drain,
add algae, and serve

---

by the shore of styx
thru the mist comes the ferryman
distant harpies rail

-

yo bubba, pass a brew
neep tide, nuthin gon' bite fa now
we'll catch 'limb fish' til it turnz

---

Burnt stumps, water, fog,
An obscure sky says all,
Need I say anymore?

---

Auspicious warm soup
maybe life crawls out again.
Get it right this time.

---

Great dendritic gods
astride heaven and earth 'til
the water arrived

-

Hot sun burning through
squalid mist and morning dew
as Wednesday warms

-

Buried deep beneath
the swampy bottom, ancient
bones still lay sleeping

---

Gray smoke and cinders,
This is really depressing
Where is my remote?

---

through stone and darkness
the river moved in silence
over empty land

The Death Knell concert
not a call to all, just one.
Can you hear the song?

---

Bright lights, loud music,
All Hallow's Eve again,
The death rattle plays on.

-

Tequila Sunrise
Bloody Mary's and beer
The drinks are flowing.

---

Hot music blasting
through agave lenses: "Is
that Oingo Boingo?"

-

Eating spicy black
bean mole with dark angels
in Tenochtitlan

-

Dust swirls about
my weary head along the
road to Oaxaca

---

Once in Oaxaca,
In a bar just like this one,
I lost a girlfriend

---

rock and bone muse sick
maybe even dead--who cares?
we got prayer flags!

-

Party on in Hell!
Play until Orpheus comes,
then we're going Home!

-

Skeletons woke up!
Experienced before now.
they knew what to do!

---

wind blows the dust back
the hideous music, shrill
behind the hard fence

It dangles a light
way down deep in the darkness--
maybe dinnertime?

---

cathode ray mindfuck
breaker of minds, harbinger
of a blank planet

---

Faces in shadows
Blind to the rest of the world
Blinkers, worn freely

---

the box light
making me a shadow
no dream can ignite

---

The teacher throws light,
Filling minds with mental trash.
The lesson is obey

---

Tell me who I am
What to wear, eat and purchase.
Without you, I'm lost

---

eyeballs on a stalk
an empty ringing vessel
ready for poison

---

Worship in its light
The television altar
glows both day and night

---

Staring at the boob tube,
The mind rots a little more,
Forever, it's gone.

Munch Munch, Fookin' Munch,
Ye fookin' wanker punk,
Yer paintings weere all junk!

---

Kuramaebashi.
On a summer afternoon,
two hits of blotter

---

aargh! I scream, why now?
Water, walkway, a handrail!
A pained expression

No ice, not bleeding.
No stumbling along for help
Painful memories

Munch's scream. Insane?
Pain? An injury sustained
A brain crunch by Munch.

---

Der Schrei der Natur
is still audible, drowned by
roaring jet engines

---

sunset colours scream
i scream inside for Gaza
and can do nothing

---

my scream is incidental to the background patterns and colours
undisturbed by my grief
they simply shine radiantly.

---

I Scream
You Scream
We all Scream for Ice Cream