The Word for Writers

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Bali in afterthought

I have gone through all the motions
Playing to inattentive gallery of emotional void
I feel no emotions just a blankness of emptiness
Nothing expected, nothing gained, just emptiness -

I have walked these tiresome streets
Strutting my peacock charade of made believe verve
Yet, grace is redemptive in its consolatory avoidance
Walking, these tiresome streets of nothingness -

Ecstatic ecstasy hazy joy receding with sunrise
Body cooking from within, frozen sweat, rivers dripping in blobs
Our made believe world of tourist paradise is a village a thousand miles from nowhere
Where is home? -

Just another beat
Hissing torch friezing flesh
Wailing mechanical rush of ambulances racing
Cold metal taste of stank flesh of friends frying -

Innocence, ignorance, lust, pretence, then nothing,
Midnight swim in navy blue ocean
Stars twinkling in distant places
Heaven above, time inconceivable, this vast emptiness -

Sun drenched beach, Venus rising, crystals drops of sea water dripping
Supple supplement of youthful abandon
Idle curiosity of eyes that have lost innocence
On a sun spangled beach in Bali -

A gift for careless eyes
A place far away to drain mechanised civilisations entrapments of dreary stress
Packed bags left in hidden corners, fizzling threaded dread
Mission impossible replaying, then swirling lights, emergency -

Thrashed silence in flashing strobe lights
Mindless abandon free from care
Suspicion’s robe slide off at last control of entry
Free flow, liquor, ease and no dis-ease -

Just a place, a beach, a palm shade
Away from heat of life for a place in distant sun
Exotic lands, stranger people, silent misconceptions
A smile a nod and a big bang -

Sun in my eyes,
Fire beneath my feet
Burning tarmac
Frenzied, frieze mind -

Awareness is innocence lost
Time and place irreverently distorted
Your religion, my suffering, our guilt
A shot in an alleyway, bombs in watering holes -

Images set against a black background
Streaks of light in a velvet skies, pitch black on film
Snatches of images displacing this bright horror, cackling
A side of pork and two eggs and everything comes gushing forth -

These meaningless insubstantial attachments of youth
Hormones affected mind hooked unto nature no letting go
Just barred soul in anguish
Escape is in far places, where golden sands are pure untainted and warm -

Our little discovery of ancient undefiled coves
A place of quiet in a noisy world
Our noise is mind numbing skulduggery of resonating meaningless bass
Our limbs in flight pumping adrenaline lined sweat -

Youth are snatches of abandon in a world regimented to full
Sun on our sullen faces, bleached skins toasted golden
Leisurely lounging in tropical havens
Till your jihad, meaningless ancient mumbo jumbo of raving wolves came to bear fruit -

A shadow crossing uncaring sun
In its timeless course
You little misguided souls seeking blood
See how it flows, your tears of unrepentant misery -

Flower, plucked, set gently, on flowing waters
Souls in transition, gently sent to that other void from this void
A silent face hands together, sari barely flapping, in gentle poise of regret
We lived, we died and no regrets -

Yet how empty it all seems
This clanging noise
Of futility a course of determined will
Importing destruction from far places -

See what you’ve done to our little paradise
Our place of escape, momentarily
You have turned Eden’s reflection into miserable memory
So, we drink to faces vague, hazy far from reality, yet bitter in truth -

Tens of thousands of miles to escape from meaningless into void
Running yet never quite getting away
We spooked fires in vain ignorance
We played games of innocence and set ablaze our temples of pettiness -

In these things we did, mindlessly running around, jumping and singing
Then, a dive into crystal clear waves washing away our foiled maturity, our imperfections
For a moment touching purity of nature’s benign benevolence
We were children -

Here in these far places where we once felt at home
Eternity is a steady breeze blowing through palm fronds
Our tragedy, mere wisp in winds of time
Ashes swirling in hot afternoon gusts -

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