Oceanzest Poetry (270)

Beneath a pearl umbrella
shelter to attain
the meanest, greenest, dancing glass
the Burmese summer rain

iron sheet harbour
junks rise and fall
a hard sleep night
on the Orient wall

murder melody
esprit de corps
razor diplomacy
a sliding door

perfumed vixens
tender more
a strangers paradise
in the dragons jaw

About once every 5 years I chance upon Lladro porcelain figurines, most usually in a sojourn in a mall where they materialise on the hard-to-reach shelves of trendy gift stores. My first encounter would have been in my teens when I distinctly remember thinking these overpriced little ornaments from Valencia were not only kitsch but were only loved by grandmothers, certainly over 60, who had mildly lost their reason as to what is appealing. Not only that but I divined that if I ever felt any warmth for the little pieces I could duly assume I had suffered some excessive ravages of time and my claim to reason might be somewhat faltering.
Bottom line, appeal of Lladro I believe to be a test of time.
So with some surprise today I spotted an assortment of pieces that actually brought me some joy, Madonna with child, and a country girl inspired figure. For the first time I saw the tradition and romanticism behind the figures and took time to consider the shades of colour and dedication to detail to produce a work which
exudes a cultivated classic charm. Certainly more charm than I now hold for a Che Guevara t-shirt and mordant attitude to anything bearing authority. In 5 years time, who knows, I could be an ardent collector, at each sunrise and sunset the small silent drift to Lladro seems irrepressible :)

When in April the sweet showers fall
And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all
The veins are bathed in liquor of such power
As brings about the engendering of the flower,
When also Zephyrus with his sweet breath
Exhales an air in every grove and heath
Upon the tender shoots, and the young sun
His half-course in the sign of the Ram has run,
And the small fowl are making melody
That sleep away the night with open eye
(So nature pricks them and their heart engages)
Then people long to go on pilgrimages
And palmers long to seek the stranger strands
Of far-off saints, hallowed in sundry lands,
And specially, from every shire's end
Of England, down to Canterbury they wend

Something for everyone here, some quotes from Pliny the Elder:

Hope is the pillar that holds up the world. Hope is the dream of a waking man.

Grief has limits, whereas apprehension has none. For we grieve only for what we know has happened, but we fear all that possibly may happen.

No mortal man, moreover is wise at all moments.

Such is the audacity of man, that he hath learned to counterfeit Nature, yea, and is so bold as to challenge her in her work.

Truth comes out in wine.

Hardly can it be judged whether it be better for mankind to believe that the gods have regard of us, or that they have none, considering that some men have no respect and reverence for the gods, and others so much that their superstition is a shame to them.

Home is where the heart is.

The only certainty is that nothing is certain.

An object in possession seldom retains the same charm that it had in pursuit.

There is always something new out of Africa.

The world and that which, by another name, men have thought good to call Heaven (under the compass of which all things are covered), we ought to believe, in all reason, to be a divine power, eternal, immense, without beginning, and never to perish.

Come late, late in the evening
my candle burn down low
Come late, late in the evening
my candle burn down low
we all got peace back in the barnyard baby
the day you decided to go

I took your suitcase to the station
the train had two lights on behind
I took your suitcase to the station
the train had two lights on behind
both red and blue for you baby
'cos you're finally off my mind

I sent poison ivy to the femme fatale across the street
She sent me death cap mushrooms
I'm holding her cat to ransom
until she returns my lawnmower
She burnt down my mailbox
..Its love, I can feel it..

When the axe came into the forest the trees said at least the handle is one of us
- Turkish Proverb

cartridge cases
jungle towns
all quiet the night
down in Despot Downs

junta junta
retort's out of bounds
camo couture
down in Despot Downs

insurgent fervour
vicious hounds
care where you step
down in Despot Downs

There's a natural mystic
Blowing through the air
If you listen carefully now you will hear
This could be the first trumpet
Might as well be the last
Many more will have to suffer
Many more will have to die
Don't ask me why

Things are not the way they used to be
I won't tell no lie
One and all got to face reality now
Though I try to find the answer
To all the questions they ask
Though I know it's impossible
To go living through the past
Don't tell no lie

There's a natural mystic
Blowing through the air
Can't keep them down
If you listen carefully now you will hear
Such a natural mystic
Blowing through the air

This could be the first trumpet
Might as well be the last
Many more will have to suffer
Many more will have to die
Don't ask me why

There's a natural mystic
Blowing through the air
I won't tell no lie
If you listen carefully now, you will hear
There's a natural mystic
Blowing through the air

Such a natural mystic, blowing through the air
There's a natural mystic blowing through the air
Such a natural mystic, blowing through the air
Such a natural mystic, blowing through the air

flailing wire
bars ripped from the ether
sinew wrapped
around the neck
fingered fury
bringing forth a
sonorous salute
suckin' in the air
here I come again now baby
like a dog on heat
Ted on 10
Cali 1978

Well I'm in love with little April
but May just down the road
yeah I'm in love with little April
but May just down the road
pretty soon I'll be in to June
and the others don't need to know

Each to their own in troubled times
whatever gets you through
I don't personally feel the need to daily win the approval
of a supernatural being on the basis if he is around
it's likely he's got more critical things to get onto over the trifling desires or fears
of one in 7 billion living on a whirling speck in a non-descript region of a galaxy
far from the centre of town as we know it.
I'm sure he thinks it best I just shape up and carve my own destiny.
Nor do I feel particularly comfortable with,
and I doubt he really has any time for,
24 hour observance and judgement of my actions
that totalitarianism is the sort of regime
any forthright Christian should be well opposed to
But if you do have a direct line to the Creator
I don't think it might be too indulgent to ask
just why he may have visited
a plague on the populace
where indiscriminate targetting of victims
seems to be the measure of the day
Can they all be "sinners?"