{ IN MEDIA RES }

Inspired by ‘The English Patient’

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on September 19, 2008

body marked like a map of old
a visceral cartography of impressioned mountain ranges
red and pale, the ridges of spine and valleys of collarbone
the borders of skin against skin
a mapmaker’s ink of teeth and nails and hair

but there is no reason in this uncreation
nothing save for their shallow breaths
kneeling
falling
the briefest pause
a sensory respite
and then
drowning in an ancient river

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Possible Song Lyrics

Posted in Band, Lyrics, Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on September 12, 2008

I remember you like
the taint of my nail polish on your skin
as I turned your wrist to and fro
trying to anatomise the mechany
of your floral veins
paint in the topography of our fingerprints
Fuchsia Rose toxicity
a sudden unfamiliar altitude
oh perhaps we should have should have

More ordinary, colloquial, casual than my usual writing.

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Blunt, heavy-handed and not particularly elegant

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on August 22, 2008

What kind of cruelty
Allows justice to be administered
Punishment to be meted out
By an arbitrary judge?

What kind of power
Is great enough
That it can give
One control over another
That it can be complete
Even when divided?

What kind of right
Is joined by
cruelty and power?

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Is this love?

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on August 17, 2008

stretched out along the shore
I think I love you I do I do
like murano glass I love you
blown out and stretched and shaped
by you
I love you.

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Two little poems

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on August 11, 2008

Untitled haiku

in a brief respite
an uncertain child-like scrawl
miss you I miss you

Untitled freeverse

even
the walls the chairs
the air
know that there are
different kinds of absence
different kinds of permanence

know when permanence and absence entwine

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4 AM Poetry – The Product of Insomnia

Posted in Poetry, Writing by netscheri on July 20, 2008

To translate into the language of night;
half-waking thoughts,
half formed.
In learning to transmit
through a new medium
Not only thought but touch;
sound resounding against skin
But when transmuting fluidity
base mermaid alchemy –
a pause –
ah.

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I asked for a prompt

Posted in Original, Prose, Writing by netscheri on July 18, 2008

And was given this: “well today as i was running there was a man who was kinda creepy standing and waiting to cross with an umbrella and i imagined him throwing it and it puncturing me through my back and through my stomach…but thats all i got. sorry”

(more…)

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Rhythm

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on June 18, 2008

oh keep me locked away
yes
a little while
as I
as I
collect poets in bunches
of carnelian carnations for a
coronation
let me rise
let me rise
in a litte while
oh how I see

(more…)

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Mundanity

Posted in Original, Poetry, Writing by netscheri on July 16, 2007

plastic scrapes my hand raw but leaves only white
(‘like the back of my hand’/’I feel so honoured’)
plastic scrapes my hand raw but leaves only white
slipping from my grasp
I let go
and everything slides tumbling but my hand is raw and my fingers empty-grasp-empty
‘I feel so honoured

Cleaning up on the floor kneeling
piles on piles, everything is organised but nothing is clean
The back of my hand stings but nothing is purged
Tidying, my fingers full –

Comments: Yes, the ending is intentional. Hmm, it’s very, very rough right now and I don’t suppose the ideas are very clear. The moment I wanted to express in this was just when after struggle, when someone decides to let go, but that moment and the emotions behind it are so quickly lost or overwhelmed afterwards, and what is left is that half-feeling of something more, something forgotten to be remembered.

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