Some stuff I typed one night in s. africa...

(china doll)

translucent

like pale parchment

celia’s skin

blue-white and pink

soft

like a wilting flower

a small china doll

when she is sleeping






(africa)

warm and damp

like a mother’s tears

as her children cling to her

so not to fall off

africa

so alive

but dying

so fast








(aids in south africa)

what monster is this

who kills through love

and ignorance

rumours of conspiracy

and genocide

from a far away land

filled with hate






(floyding)

lying on our backs

in the blue room

smoking

while pink floyd rides the smoke curls

across the foot of the bed

and we feel the words

touch down

one at a time






(mine)

pale and slight

but arms that hug

like a buick

and eyes that are both

young and old

and happy and sad

and a smile like sunshine

he smells like perfume

and sweat

and teenage lust

i want to touch him

for he seems

too perfect












whatever