away
on paradise

chasing rainbows
digging trenches for lil' trinklets
fly twirling kites
sway to the favonian breeze
tickling dancing pets
licking the cream off cakes
and reeking of childish sweat.

the stars used to be so near
the heart of darkness unfounded
run along the fields
ferreting for treasures
acting like we have all grown up
jump up and up hands all stretched
rolling in mud.

our bodies could smooch
and eyes could meet
the words were soft
and that puerile angst
come as they go in speedy chariots
were discarded into the ding-dong well
heroes always came back immortalised
chocalates were a cure for doldrums.

that life was good. no
i never knew the children emaciated
africa was merely an exotic safari
the other child on the other side
succumbing to lethal viruses
thrown out the window by naughty white men
swimming in a pool of sharks
Big God was the mechanic
maths was important.

she had barbie
they were barbie.



cuRRent...jer  ¶ 4:47 pm

  Exigency

Its that time of the year again, where I become pulverised by the dreadful writer's block.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 8:34 am

  Olaf

another excercise in self-glorification....




Sometimes, you know, just sometimes, I swear I see my face in that picture on the left. I realise I have such an olaf-complexity which inevitably translates to... "I think I am really talented, intelligent, good-looking, brilliant..." And obnoxious.


Hmmm. Face it Jeremy, maybe....




You really are. (talented, yada yada yada) = D


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 8:15 pm

  Breathe

"Oh learn to breathe, darling."

The stygian silence
efflugent,
like a thread velvet
and dripping
scarlet,
wrapped around the
neck in a garbled(,)
cerise madness,
slowly crawling
like snakes drowned
in crimson sibilance.

The ginger grip
excruciating,
so the quivering heart
cannot brook the dwindling
of air, pining as dogs
whining in loud whimpers, inter-
mittent like languid
rain. Hark, it is no
literary suspire.
Oh darling help him;
Teach him to breathe.

The brooding blood
effervescent,
as his face seared and
a grimace, the contortionist's
sleight of hand,
in random gulps
desperate to relief.
and his cheeks reddened,
began to douse
in tears.

So he almost said,
in halted, painful.
Breaths.

Love is a mistake,
that forgot how to cry.

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 11:09 am

  Dreams
in the air.

I remember
dreams in the air
across the atlantic
and back to tabula rasa.

Along carpeted aisles
an ineluctable smile carved
upon a head floating above seats
persistently emanates a yen
to proffer food, drinks and pillows.

OrtosHrIeK, "GET BACK TO YOUR SEAT!"
when one visits the lavatory too often.

When I slept. She saw.
She peered. Beyond the
dessicated drool and bodies
twisted into awkward comfort.

She remembers too often
the penchant and the longing
the disparity of time
and the distance of continents.

Gazing at windows staid
the air settled
and the music buzzed.

She walked
by me once more. Smiling Ineluctable.
She hides too well the inspidity of it.
We hide too well the irregularity of it.

I bought a ticket
to the other end of the circle;
a fast-foward and a leaving of pangs
behind. In the air, I dreamt. Whereby,
dreams in the air
are different, like smoke on
another plane.

Through the haze,
I saw a boy emblazoned in white.
Memories that often delude
in these dusty dreams, return
from burried depths
and quietly haunt.

In sweet rememberance.
A reminder of futility.
Just to pass from one continent to another.

I wonder if she feels it too.

As I awake to the sound of wind brushing
and the time passing.
A quixotic flutter in the stomach
tickles quickly and I sit-
only awaiting like a king for
breakfast to be served.

She appears with a trolley.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 9:08 am