Jan Oskar Hansen

The Sage.

Train explosion in India, many dead and
wounded, black smoke, chaos and people
milling about; it was there on the news,
yet India, far from here, it looked unreal.
in the crowd I saw my brother, had been
dreaming of him all night, he didn’t look
like me, small white teeth glued to red
gums, in no special order; delicate hands.

A learned man who lives on the flesh of
calves, and drink goat milk for breakfast.
He looked straight at the camera willing
me to recognize his existence, I looked
down, put two teaspoon full of sugar in
my coffee and when I looked up he had
disappeared into the noisy crowd, and it
was time for the weekend’s football results.

Jason Page

Some More Graffiti

If we were supposed to talk
More than we were to listen
We would have one ear
And two Mouths!

I am
What I be today
Without you
Feels lousy
To only to start to say

This undying lust is hard to maintain
The choice of reality or innuendo
Passing us day by day
How am I going to play?

Transfixed between two points
When does this end?
This state of flux
It’s getting hard to gage

Something is missing in my life
Where do I belong?
Why is this taking so long?
Honey, please help me get home.

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Any questions - please contact me

Cheers
Nicholas
info@aucklandpoetry.com

Jason Page

Internal Lusts

Two Poles
and I am dangling
inbetween

I cant see you
and on goes the war
I forget your smile
Demure at best

I love you honey
your the best
All the others
Mean nothing let it rest
Without you
Means nothing
to say the less

Yes Honey
Your my hope and love
Without you I dont know
how I am going to get on

Please help me get back home.

Nicholas Alexander

Along the way things seemed to occur
but now when things happen they do so in silence

the long hand encroached upon the short hand
but never could it pass as the short hand was damaged
during the war of words

without time to measure themselves by
they were without memory

without memory all trace of familiarity was given to the wind
of course the wind died and the traces left draped over trees
did no good

the gardener tending to its growth
was well rewarded in the ensuing weeks
and then again, in the afterlife

From the Chambers

For You

Ten years since that dreaded, early
morning call, last night and long ago.
A nightmare I assured myself when
vividly dreaming of you, wrong name,
a misunderstanding. In the day too
I heard your voice. You let go slowly,
days drift by now when I don’t think of
you, when I do it’s with a melancholic
shrug, I shan’t see you again, our time
was yesterday.

Posted by jan oskar hansen

more of Jan Oskar Hansen

Whats Your Number

I need a date for the ball
Yes the Secret Policemans ball
Hang on policeman dont have balls
Honey where are you
Where are you
I am dying to talk to you
Dying to talk to you
Talk to you
Yes you!!!

Nicholas Alexander

Another addition to the Poetry Chamber - I have resurrected my Chaos Matters blog for daily updates. This is what was posted there today

Chaos / Matters / Introductory

Perhaps it is best to start at the start, and sometimes it is better to use it as a mythology.
Hating the fragile web that held him fast, he fathomed options that ran like a space race
if he stood on glass and looked down there was no horizon

fast he swept away all grief and spoke upon the naked doorstep like butterflies sheltered from the wind
that would otherwise carry them on the path to Bethlehem

Bruised as they fell and nobody wanted to look for weeks
the diplomacy failed so they brought in the shrink
his quivering eyes unfolded with that soggy megalomania
as he paused and turned

Right there at that site of mystery he felt undiscovered
the first humans felt their way around the rock
and discovered they could get off it

walk in the snow
and ride the horses

the breath of beginnings is slow
the start of the greatest storms ever start
during the gliding fall of a feather

Dr. Charles Frederickson

SAFE PASSAGE

Interminable mind-boggling voyage circumnavigating globe
Perusing travelogues embossed hardcover atlases
Whale of tale library classics
Avoiding nauseous seasickness distressing travail

Earthborn into secure landlocked circumstance
Lubbers faraway from oceans favoring
Freshwater lakes over great fishpond
Yellow-belly sunfish to killer sharks

Words cannot express wondrous vastitude
Fathomable depths craving subterranean exploration
Invaded privacy craving familiar comforts
Trailblazer adventures dusted off restacked

Nacreous pearly shells forced open
Exposing ordinary grain of sand
Inverted arc insipid drained rainbows
Windfall leaves reconnected to branches

Waterfall pouring in wrong direction
Figure 8 hourglass flipped downside-up
Counterclockwise about face running late
Compass pointing every which way

Stay-at-homestead safeguards never venturing beyond
Penthouse escaping through bookworm passages
Landlocked conscience surrounded by recalled
Ports National Geographic vain denials

Pristine illusions shattered glass shards
Plastic debris peeled bottle flotsam
Coastline swashed garbage patch discards
Dying coral kelp forest depleted

Dr. Charles Frederickson

Nicholas Alexander

Night To

Perplexing twas it
stalking moonlight
fallow shadow
pale insistence
making the distance
foot over gutter
land over shutter
willow eye
gest of yer
stir dae
laughing and crying
follocking the red burst
stale dying
along the werks
and valleys
she dug out
to hide under
neath the barn
door slide
effecting the gradual
perspectives in general

Nov 17th 2006, 12:50pm

Nicholas Alexander

Excess

as he walks past, he can see we are important
us trophy wives, branded metal steed and significant attire
the watch that says it all
See the Napoleonic resolve stir as he gets behind the wheel,
and we get out there and do things

It was words of course
Broken words that clashed over the right side of summer
Words that told them what to hope for
Out for the day like children they mount their iron steeds
and race into the intersection foot to metal
insipid wealth adorned with structure

The words were written all over their deeds
The smashing of sentences across the ceiling
woke the children from sleeping and dreaming
of days when families where supposed to sing together

These boys burn shining rubber and
don visors to keep them young through summer
Pay advisors and bankers to keep them in champers
Pick up mail order brides with picnic hampers
Spend nights drinking at the waterfront bar
The Late Great Holy Roman Empire

done weary of driving,
its been another four hours
spent in the passenger seat
being second fiddle to this
persistent as a mistress
there is no end to the road
music too loud as usual
the smell of oiled leather

another small town passes and nobody sees it

She is now sleeping so he turned down Aerosmith
it was time to to see what this baby can do
leather to metal rubber to road the feeling of speed building

The hotel room awaits
Like a chapel, like a womb

October 29th 10:40am

Is This Real

I guess it could be me,
I think it has to be,
Could it be me?
Oh my God!!!
It is Me
Therefore
I am
What could I be?
And you two up there
Watching over me
I look at the moon each night & think of thee
In all the dreams, visions, hallucinations
You’ve given me
Leads to believe she is for me,

How beautiful she can be
How beautiful she be!
Please make me believe
How beautiful she can be

Nicholas Alexander

The Instruction

Cold feet paddle down street
The weight of rain tires muscles
yesterday's scorn washed away
down and out discord
words dropped out
they fell from songs
that stopped short of pulling
guns and knives but takes lives
by cosmetic force that seeping twisted sort
that thwarting jab in the ribs
that distorted lip
that sneer - trust tumbles
time is too short
the tide is leaving
the waters are rising
the drains are about to burst
the water main screams
the city will drown

- 1:59am
- 26 October 2006

Nicholas Alexander

Be

Look underneath the ground
see how it began
the twisting embers of life
in the rush of laughter
is, being taken seriously
we watch as you escape your life
of a humble leaf, not
the storm that shakes the tree
but, the firm grip
the earth has as it holds
it, cast aside like old toes
left behind, useless foot
nuisance leg, rejected
crippled mass of bones and skin
left behind to cope with
rebuilding of a world



composed on the weblog
aucklandpoetry.com
12:21 on Friday, 13th October 2006