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Macshimah

of

Vancouver, BC, CA

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Untitled

by

Macshimah

The days slip away
Like water through your hands
Impossible to hold
Joy is the droplets that catch the sunlight
Shining brightly before slipping off your fingers
Rapture is the now you drown in
The epiphany of joy and light
that still radiates in your eyes
when the moment has gone


Untitled

by

Macshimah

I struggle with the mountain before me
though my conflict is not actually with the rock
Lungs protesting and muscles rebelling
I push my load, slowly ascending the indistinct trail
As the trees thin and the high leas appear before me
It almost seems as the very surroundings wish me to retreat
My destination, far above, at times seems to recede
Assailed by apprehension and doubt, still I press on
Then when spirit and body feel separated from one another
The ridge opens to the heavens
and the clear breezes play upon my burden
As if it were a tiny seed they wished blown across
the mountains to bring life to a barren desert
Suddenly I am standing on the brink of a new age
With the whole world laid out before me
The wind offers me flight, as my fingers touch the sky
But the earth loves my feet, so here I stay
The mountain turns in the birthing of the new season
And where the meadow meets the pines
on the bones of the earth
Life bursts through the rocks
like blood from an open wound
Fed from above and below
I turn in the universe
both center and spoke


Untitled

by

Macshimah

And I see her
Dancing wild like Titania
Her hair mixing with the shadows in the wood
Until all the forest is part of her
And she is of the trees
Her skin shines white and silver in the dappled moonlight
Or could the moon just mirror her
Light dancing like dreams of Avalon
A will-o-the-wisp of stars
Exploring the darkness of the earth
Birthing the new dawn
She is where the sky touches the earth
A musty, soft-scented mystery
Her wetness gleams like dews on moss
Hidden gems rare bathed by light
The breezes through the leaves betray her passing
And touch so light, yet electrified
Darkest hair and darker eyes
And I am lost in her stare


Sascha

by

Macshimah

We make love like animals and angels
Trying to quench lonliness with passion
Quiet cries and soft caresses
We drift in and out of intimacy
Dancing away from what we want most
Arcing through strange erotic geometries
Searching for the center along the edges
And seeking the life beyond the little death


Mona

by

Macshimah

And in the new teeming forest of man
I met Mona the Nisga'a princess
Dark-eyes and sleek hair
sideways smiles and second glances
Wearing her blues like a triumphant crown
that looked a little like an old worn black cowboy hat
Turning corners, facing the future
and connected to the past
We spill into the periphery of each others orbits
and in chaos find a familiar pattern
She lightly licks a trace of foam
from her beer, off her lips
Smiles, inhales languidly on her cigarette
and tells me she's a heavy equipment operator
She trades with a sparsely bearded passing vendor
for some delicate, dangly, light blue earrings
That she says will compliment her sweater
which more than compliments its contents
Then, although she said she shouldn't tell me
She said I had great lips
Well...........


McCavour's Reel

by

Macshimah


It's another kitchen party
Down at the end of the road
On the darkened farm
That lies across the shallow ridge
Behind Spiddle Hill
Not far beyond the three falls
That take your breath away

Under stars that sparsely share
Their ancient silver light
Man's companionable yellow glow
Is framed by the amiable dark bulk
Of the farmhouse
Barely discernable against
The even blacker nocturnal world around it

And sometimes you sing of the sun on the water
Others the sound of the wind in the wood
Weaving in the wide easy smile
Of a distant neighbour's daughter
The burn of old whiskey, and other things good

Old Willie always has his fiddle
With the dust and the tools and the empties
In the beat up International he drives
And Freeman's always willing
To play anyone a tune
With the guitar that often
Seems to grow from his calloused hands

Horn and drum and squeeze box
It ever shifts and changes
From night to dawn to night
Music flows and winds
And whirls and weaves
So that even the best known songs
Are never sung nor heard the same way twice

And sometimes you sing of the sun on the water
Others the sound of the wind in the wood
Weaving in the wide easy smile
Of a distant neighbour's daughter
The burn of old whiskey, and other things good

There, the three Lavigne girls
Sloe-eyed and low laughter
Dancing wild in patterned skirts
Their hair swinging about their shoulders
A dozen quickened pulses chasing their rhythms
Eyes half closed and lips slightly parted
Whirling through internal orbits that bisect every heart in the room

Those are the long hours till morning
With the fires banked high
While we stomp, drink, howl and make love
Until the music and lights
Have chased off the gloom
And like the raptured cries
Of the lover's prize, with hoarse voices we herald the dawn

And sometimes we sing of the sun on the water
Others the sound of the wind in the wood
Weaving in the wide easy smile
Of a distant neighbour's daughter
The burn of old whiskey, and other things good


Untitled

by

Macshimah

See, it's this place I've been
that I sometimes go in my head
And as memory walks me up the road
into youthful familiarities
From just past the house on the corner
with the faded old 7-Up sign
Supported by rusty hinges
that sing their discordant joy into the wind
Waves the perfect girl, from a better time
with the sun-tinged hair of red
Mental photograph, boughs of dust laden trees
bow before the long ashphalt altar of man
In a field so green it still hurts the eyes
framed in an empty doorway
By the wide greying planks
of a farmhouse long abandoned
With laughing eyes that dared you to be better
is my girl of perpetual motion and burnished gold
She comes to me easily, most often unbidden
in the smell of lilacs and ripening gooseberries
And the salty taste of the trickles of sweat
that would slip between her breasts guiding me to a softer center
A bit of song I can't remember drifts through the reverie
sounding like a scratchy old phonograph in another room
Voices wraithlike and reedy like echoes of the dead
notes that slide over us frictionlessly and slip smokily away from themselves
The sky swims and blurs in impressionistic imitations
while the sun dries the sweat of love just made
She inhales lightly and her stiffening nipple
swells into my hand
An odd Escher-like fit that seems to flow through me
diffusing into a world of infinite possibilities on the other side
As if we are each a portal through which the other passes
simultaneously plunging deeper into ourselves and past some invisible horizon beyond
Sweat drops from a curl of her hair as she moves astride me
and as it splashes onto my face
We burst through the surface of the swimming hole by the engine bridge
naked and hand in hand, falling onto the cool grass
Laughter sprinkles over the night
as the earth leeches the water from our bodies
Looking up at the bright, gravid moon hanging full overhead
the illusion of memory and light melts it into the cave outside town
Ageless passages that wind deep inside the earth
as I guide her through the warm inviting darkness
We turn and look back to the light of the entrance
before it receeds to nothing and the womb of earth swallows us
As the light dissapears and the blackness envelops us
she grips me and pulls me to her
We move with the rhythms of the earth
emerging later reborn into the same world, changed forever
To drift like thin fog towards the next stab of sunlight and shining
along roads woven of shadows and smoke


Untitled

by

Macshimah

Mighty Jupiter sheathed in fury
and swathed in greens and blues
Playing a galactic tug-o-war
orbiting in its dues
Molten ice, cracked and pitted
a whirling cosmic puzzle intricately fitted
Spun in flights of Gods, their might
to break the void, to chase the night


Untitled

by

Macshimah

... Does anyone remember Billy Green the Scout ?
And how he ran through fen and forest
When he spied the Yankees coming
Brought back the good Glengarry's
and chased the bastards out ...


Untitled

by

Macshimah

I listen to the hymns
of the winds in the pines
As I stand beneath cathedrals of stone
that have melted from the sky
The waters sing a counterpoint
with a harmony of ravens
The valley is an orchestra
the evening is a haven
And the winds they swell and moan
with the song the valley's singing
From the mountains breadth
to the lakes unknown depths
I soar and joy in being


Bitter roots

by

Macshimah

The gifts not taken, the jewels foresaken
an empty room strewn with debris
Cold as stone a house alone
hollow echoes of what might have been
Winds thinly fated blowing bits of paper
scraps of lives and the shit they leave


Entropy part ....

by

Macshimah

We do sad and twisted dances
like marionettes
at the end of time
Jerking and stumbling across a stage
as the light dims


No. 27 Dark

by

Macshimah

pain, pleasure
passion tethered
gasp and cry
flesh that shivers
the take and giving
bound and willing
surrender's power
to vivid living


Nocturne

by

Macshimah

The world rolls by in metal thunders
and colored lights that pierce the night
though not altogether incongruous with the pines
which stand in stark detail
against an achingly clear starlit sky
Looming over the pines and hanging from the sky
shrouded in mists like the seats of ancient gods
are the great rocks that stand like monuments
that mark the wear of time
There will be frost tonight
though the bloom has not yet faded on this summers rose
Still the world in metal thunders rolls on by
its rough passages not in the least disturbing
the crickets complex conversations
nor ever really completely drowning them out
The lights of man scatter impudently
across the low hills beneath the heights
Arrogantly competing with the stars
their brash glow lost in the universal expanse
The clouds roll down from the peaks
creeping through the passes
looking as if they were consuming all before them
Argo whines as we hear, over and through
and weaving around the noise of the night
the coyotes doing their thing
Menace and mystery in the darkness
mixing exhilaration and fear in a cocktail nocturne


Untitled

by

Macshimah

In swirling cofusion
it's anger I'm using
Though a more likely conclusion
is it's just using me


Dawn Treader

by

Macshimah

Dance through the waves
shadow on water
Veiled in haze
zephers daughter
Search if you will
as have many others
Few see the pass of the Dawn Treader


Crazyheart

by

Macshimah

Billy had the crazyheart
it was bigger than himself
But when his lover's wasn't big as that
the hurt just ate him up

crazy to touch you,crazy about you,crazy to buy what is free
crazy in passion,crazy and crashing,crazy to keep what
you'll be

Mary had a tiny wound
but she worried it sore hard
Because Mary had the crazyheart
so she tore herself apart

'Cause when you get the crazyheart
you always get it crazy bad
It's a tidal wave of feeling
that will surely drive you mad
The crazyheart owns your mind
it knows you'll find a way
It feeds you what you think you need
and leads your sense astray

Daniel had the crazyheart
Sherry had it too
Life is funny, Sherry cooled
and the crazyheart became her tomb

crazy in love,crazy to want,crazy enough to see
crazy to hold you,crazy to mold you,crazy to bind you to me

Emotions locked on a spinning wheel
highs and lows your lover feels
As much as you try to be how they see you
you can never be sure what your soul will reveal

I need you, I want you
I feel you, I haunt you
How is it possible
you're not sensing the hunger
But you'll understand soon
because my love is stronger
It's not your fault that fate and I chose you
soon left on its own my desire will consume you

Robert was a bright young man
and life would give him choices
But Robert met the crazyheart
and spent his life tormented by the voices

crazy and lonely,crazy to hate,crazy to hope that they'll
see
crazy and aching,crazy and shaking,and probably just crazy

Lily,s heart was strong and true
her nature honest and open
But she was used hard and cruel again and again
and she ended up crazyheartbroken

He loved me, believe me
how can't he not need me
What is it she gives him
just what am I missing
Perhaps something I've done wrong
if I fix it he'll come home
Am I crazy to need you
it hurts and I don't understand why it's through

We all could have the crazyheart
you might have it now
It's the seed that can grow in anyone
when you want what you want and you don't care how

crazycrazycrazyheartcrazycrazycrazyheartcrazycrazycrazyheart


Moments Before Nightfall

by

Macshimah

Narcissus, your blooms hang heavy
under the sunset of the West
The Imperator's of the new Rome
presiding over the pomp of their own decay
Feed upon themselves and others
with a cannibalistic fury unmatched in Nature
Their games, intrigues and predations
a grotesque parody of life's cycles of death and rebirth
With external, aggressive, wildfire-like consumption
paced by an internal erosion from the centre
In twilight, a restless uneasy land awaits the darkness
that follows the brilliant colors of glory and beauty
That mark the failing of the light

Politics

by

Macshimah

The rights of the weak are constantly yielded
atrophied compassion is clumsily wielded
Wagging stunted morality like vestigal tails
blind self-interest and profit prevail

The Kipling Rocket No. 9

by

Macshimah

A train across the ocean
an underwater fare
Come, and let us take you
try it, if you dare

Brass and ivory fittings
the seats of velvet made
The one fantastic voyage
a colored, wheeled parade

See the greatest wonders
Pantheon and Pyramids
Exotic tribes and savage lands
and the Mines that Solomon hid

Shoshona

by

Macshimah

Our love reflects the starlight
and our bodies catch the rain
Running into secret places
then trickling out again

The Crack of Dawn

by

Macshimah

The early morning whore
still applying lies
Clatters along the street
like a child carrying too many toys
Make-up and stray clothing
and the other trappings
Of a life led thinly spread
fly about as she tries
To stuff them in her bag
and simultaneously straighten her dress
Not wanting to miss the fat little man
in the big car
And the small exchange of flesh for paper
that enriches her narrowing options
A life reduced to cliche
as bits of past and future
Are converted to tender
traded and inhaled

'Cause

by

Macshimah

'Cause you watch and see it all go by
but no matter how you try
You'll never get to where they are
unless you try and purchase that new car

They tell you what you should want to be
but the more you try the more you see
That you won't get to there from here
so numb your mind on sitcoms and beer

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

They'll gladly fill your brain for free
with the shit from your T.V.
And earnestly try to make you see
that without rights you can be free

And in the newspaper today
another hooker gone away
Cops don't say much and know even less
a shabby life leaves much less mess

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

Two months toil to get this rock
to prove your love and go in hock
Buy this now you need it quick
give us your cash you stupid prick

We bought the line on freer trade
then they break every deal they made
A nation's industry's fading pulse
making do, and little else

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

'Cause we worry and we fret
and take drugs to combat stress
Working to complete our alienation
and societal suffocation

We build and guard our fortress nests
with bars and bells and guns and nets
'Cause a vicous wolf is at the door
and he, like us, just wants more

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

Here my man, strap on this bomb
take them out and go with God
They're not like us they're hardly men
we'll mop you up and go again

They look towards the lighted West
see us win and think us best
'Cause they want to be just where we are
and there's more of them than us by far

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

Catch the latest news from anywhere
as it spews from your T.V.
And wait in tense and silent dread
'cause of all the shit you see

Fifty-three were killed today
three-hundred and twelve were blown away
Flooding killed two-thousand and nine
all the rest ran out of time

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

We kill people who are brown
and pour their blood into the ground
Then pump it out with our machines
and squint and choke on smoggy screams

Odd that it seems like your barely awake
yet voracious and greedy you constantly take
Flexing idealogical muscle and patriotic might
kicking the ass of the smallest to prove you are right

'Cause the bombing helps the poor
and if we fuck them they'll have more
'Cause it all will trickle down
and trickle by until you drown

Cycles

by

Macshimah

The running man pursued his quarry
quickly and silently despite his fatigue
His breath now harsh stabbing gasps
his families hunger and his own diminishing strength
firing his urgency
He must finish the buck
surely the shot was better
the arrow true
The blood trail is plentiful
it has to fail soon
The little ones must eat
and the smallest is ill and too weak
the buck must fall soon
Wait, there....
there across the small clearing
Stumbling to its knees
but still tying to stand
Blood impossibly red against the snow
steam rising momentarily
from where it has dripped
Thank the fathers
and you noble brother, fast runner
A fitting death
your life will beat hotly through us
you power will succor us
His blade completes one cycle
and starts another
He cleans the animal
speedily, efficiently
Taking the heart and biting
hot blood dripping down his face
and seeming to warm him to his toes
Satisfaction hangs about him comfortably
like his good winter robe
The people eat tonight
and are sustained

Stacey's Dance

by

Macshimah

Just north of Gehenna
in the maw of the dog
on a sunny Saturday morning
I slide open the back door onto the loading bay
spread out and radiating
from an empty spot on the concrete
Is a young woman's belongings
as much of a life
as you could stuff in one bag
She had sat there and laid
her possessions out around her
weighing her life
Each little article a slowly closing window
scraps of a teetering life
hesitant steps in the precipice dance
A Mickey Mouse Happy Birthday button
beside an empty Clairol Original Tint box
hair ties and a razor
Wide belt, narrow belt, a pair of suspenders
one dice, a small lock unopened, no key
a lipstick, matte crimson
Besides a little red notebook
with nothing written in it
but pages ripped out
Was a new day planner with no entries
partially covered by a beach towel
with a tropical pattern in orange, pink and black
Two bras, one black, one silver-grey
a pair of red lace panties
and a pair of matching socks
A short, flowered sundress
some make-up and face cream
lube and condoms
Couple of postcards and some stamps
there were others
out there on tenuous tethers
Two small, scented, blue candles
in little glass holders, one a star
the other a cloverleaf, three leaf not four
Several photocopied pages
about drawing styles, with blank paper
pencils and a marker
A small block of modelling clay
still in it's package
she was creative
A Christmas card, on it's cover
a child-like angel holds a small Christmas tree
it's roots wrapped in burlap
Inside, her Mom and Dad
hope to see her soon
all their love for....her name is Stacey
Anguish in a short note to a lover
who never showed up, or even read it
more to herself it seemed
After reading it
I returned the note
to it's exact place
Suddenly slightly uncomfortable
with disturbing her careful
fragile, imposed order
The fan-shaped array
of little windows that only she
could see through completely
Patterns had been shifted though
and, as if it was now vulnerable
the wind snatches the note
I grab for it
but it's gone
the wind has it
Playing with it abstractly
like a fat cat with a mouse
and another little window closes
Besides the glaring emptiness
of the bare patch of concrete
where the note had been
Is a childs mini-diary
the size of a box of matches
a purple foam cover with a silly moose on it
A porcelain cup, no saucer
that has delicate violet flowers
twining on a vine around it
A roll of film, a couple of beauty magazines
two older, but still good baking pans
why baking pans, were they her Mom's
One of a pair of high heel, lace-up boots
has a small, plaid patterned
gift bag stuck on it's toe
Finally, underneath that is another day planner
from 2001, the only other thing with her name on it
Stacey, Stacey Wolfe
So Stacey had done the precipice dance
did she step over
or did she step back

A New Day

by

Macshimah

Life stirs in the city
sun creeping along concrete
to warm it's stone heart
Infinite varieties of sameness
bloom and unfold
People chatter and move
through the motions of their lives
A swirling vortex of chaos
that briefly coalesces
into vivid patterning
Spreading like cracking glass
across our conciousness
And disappearing so fast
the absence of their images
glow like sunspots
upon closed eyelids
Afterthoughts of light and color

Fifteen Years and a Wake-up

by

Macshimah

These long years I thought secure
wrapped in my castle strong
Built of stone
connected to the bones of the earth
Safe on the edges
of a turbulent ocean of emotion
unmoved by its inexorable pounding
Now, I awake to that naive illusion
and find my strength of stone
....is sand
Connected to nothing
its standing all these years
coincidence or mere fortune
And I will be swept away
by the next clean wave

Wriggle Room

by

Macshimah

Between the bullet and the body
Between justice and the law
Between the rich man who didn't mean to kill
And the poor man who meant it all

Double speak, image bleak
Uneasiness, stomach weak
Definitions churn, intentions blur
Sideways glances, subtle slurs
Sugared words but spiteful meanings
Long knives, longer evenings

Between the soldier and the killer
Between the saint and sociopath
Between the lie that saves us millions
And the truth at too great a cost

We see gleaming paths of science
That lead to better worlds
But make clever bits of metal
That burrow, rip and rend and burn
Cowards delivering intent by proxy
Keep us in a cycle of lessons never learned

Between the maternal and the monstrous
Between the lover and the lust
Between tightly wrapped intelligence
And wild chaotic madness

You grit your teeth
While smiling fools debate
The fine points of the law
The same semantic bullshit
That's forever sticking
Deeply in your craw

Between the poison and the palliative
Between the rush and junkies fate
Between the sweet and pungent
And just in time and just too late

It's just daily emotional play you know
Tug at this, prod that, then the pitch
Selling decay and misery wrapped in chocolate
The indoctrination in inevitability Lego playset
Except it's deconstruction brick by brick by memory
Until all that's left is sensation and reaction
without thought

Between presumption and evolution
Between individual and host
Between all these things is wriggle room
Purgatorial dimensions of the permanently lost

Untitled

by

Macshimah

The sun warms my face
Cool breezes blow across my skin
Its myriad tiny hairs
Raise and quiver like an ants antennae
The sound of the river
Lapping at the shore by my feet
Stirs some primordial instincts
Buried deep inside
Half remembered fragments
Of loping through tall grasses hunting
And wary watchfulness
As the pack drinks at the river's edge
My nostrils flare and catch scents
My mind can no longer interpret
A clouds shadow
Passing over the water
Makes me reflexively look up
And sniff for rain
The old ways call to me
From the genetic tomb
That our new ways
Have confined them to
Not dead perhaps
But suffocated and stifled
By the extraneous minutae
Of contemporary day to day
Rendered irrelevent by intellectual hubris
unpaced by evolution
I long to release them
but the knowledge and ability
Remains elusively
Just beyond my grasp
Like trying to hold smoke
In your hands
Or understanding the river's
Lyrical stories

Untitled

by

Macshimah

The rain runs along the tram wires
Making them seem fluid and serpentine
Writhing in the air over me
Iridescent as they slide through
The cones of illumination
From the globes of yellow light above
Rubber and concrete compress the water
And it hisses angrily in protest ignored
As it's flung about in unnatural patterns
Yet relentlessly pursues Newton to the sea

Bread and Media

by

Macshimah

Cram the camera in their face
Catch a real emotions trace
Use their pain then steal their grace
We watch our lives in anothers face

They'd put a lens in the coffin too
Just to see the process through
Watch him turn to dust at two
Feel the family's pain before they do

Pick your program pick your feeling
Leave us to manipulate the meaning
It goes both ways that data streaming
You'll never know what we're really stealing

Pump the tears and strum the fears
Wave the flag and lead the cheers
Flash some tits and sell some beer
The liars carnival is here

Give them bread and give them fights
Jerk them off then stoke their fright
Swell their hearts and show your might
Drain their brains to make them right

Can you tell what's real from what's merely seen
As you swallow happiness and watch the screen
Laugh, insert commercial, scream
It's all the same sublime, obscene

Untitled

by

Macshimah

A silver ribbon wreathed in mist
wrapped amoung the pines
dark green ridges that fade to blue
as the sun dances across the sky
Here and there the tardy snows
unheeding of their time
still linger in the shaded groves
and weep their faded pride