Sunday, October 20, 2013

The Opening

The Wendy man had lost his suit. His body was strangely decorated with flags and stickers, and over it all, was a large well worn gabardine coat that his father had worn in his airforce years.
No one recognised him. He stood in the room amidst his old friends whom he had known and played with for years and no one knew him.
No one called a greeting - they just carried on giving him an occasional questioning glance.
Was he so different?
He saw a man in the glass separating the sound tech from the band. His body was large and ungainly. His hair was gone. He looked like a man twice his age. Actually ... he looked like his grandfather.
Dave came up to him.
"Stu ... I didn't recognise you man!"
"Hey everyone, look who it is ..."
Everyone looked at him.
"Stu ... hey man, how are ya? Haven't seen you for ages ..."
Stu looked at his reflection in the mirror again ... the eyes, the eyes were the same
He looked back at Dave 'Hey man, I missed you so much" he said.
Dave looked back at him, then he looked away. He stood for a long time looking the other way. Stu reached out and pulled on his shoulder to turn him round ...
Dave's eyes were full of tears
"What's wrong man? I thought you'd be glad to see me"
"Oh man," said Dave ... he grabbed Stu and hugged him hard. Jeff came over and hugged both of them.
Stu Best ... he had been the best of them – the instigator of their sound, their music – the spark from which they had begun. Stu best, the brightest, best, the favoured son.

Until his appetite for acid boiled his beautiful brain to mush.


How leaves light the page
gold, grey, fire, and blue.
Frisk and fall,
like drops of fire,
like children dancing.

How the green is beautiful
with birdsong, cicadas,
ruffles of air.
The snatch of movement
shapeshifting - now left
now right,
winking sun upon the grass.

You kiss and tease the flowers
into giving up their colours
of sun and sea, fire and earth.

Firedrops and flowerstars
burn above wood.
Foxes and peacocks,
emerald dragons with golden tongues
that speak in the wind

free my bones from madness
that boils in them.

Seraphine de Senlis