The Late Show

THE LATE SHOW

by Solomon

He makes his thrusts
Un-lubricated
He means to hurt
Wants to be in your debt

The unseen side of the moon
There he keeps his own hurt
Rising and waning faithfully
So that the sea will have its tides

He tells you about
Lightning striking the desert floor
In that place of skinny clouds
It’s the white sparking rage

Of God
So like a man
Slamming fist into wall
No one to talk to

Tight line for a mouth
Nothing slips out the trap
But in the dark he is a lotus
If only your eyes were open

So much happens when you sleep
The face of your beloved
Changes in the absolute dark
If only your fingers were awake

© Solomon

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Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

twosome solomon

VIALS OF P

by Solomon

They’re filtering pain

Making it pure

Making it potent

Labelling it

A distillate of life

A potion of clear rush

Wear around your neck

Take it

When you feel

Too damned good

© Solomon  2009

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***

STONE-AGE WOMAN

by Solomon

You're the cave man's dream
Turning your head kindly to be hit
Want to be dragged away like meat
Offer your sweetness so carelessly

When the shadows come out to prowl
When the light is afraid to be seen
You stand in the silver beams
Clueless lunatic looking for an embrace

The time is new, love not yet born
Sacrifice is not yet part of it
Taking is the only thing
Crushing the petals for fragrance

© Solomon 2009

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Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

Open Sky

OPEN SKY

by Solomon

“if we followed our hearts

we would be merely teenagers”



she asks, “then what should we be?”



“you be the mountain island

there on the horizon

i’ll be the ocean

my opaque eyes

useless to see you

even as I rise

at high tide”



she knows...

“and I will have

your embrace

from all around,

your gentle insistence

for all time”



he smiles too

how crafty our choices

we in respectable grey

keeping secrets

under the open

sky

© Solomon 2009

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Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

Solomon's Three

THE DAY

There has been a beating
It is the day

Day sinks into the shadows
Like a wife hiding bruises

Twilight offers a shoulder
And the alcohol of dissipation

Night comes
Alive and coiled

Everything is born
Everything demands its due

The sun has turned away
The moon is beaming

Three am coughs
One sip, if you please

The night tips over
Gives up the ghost

There is a rousing
It is the day

Like nothing seen before


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* * *

THE PLANETS ALIGN

115 islands of the Seychelles
Strung across her shoulders
In blotches of pigment
I go to kiss the archipelago
She shrugs away
Presents a sisterly cheek
O, chaste!

Boyfriend’s back

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* * *

AN END

She forms out of the twilight
Of the trees huddled in conspiracy
The sly wind is in her cloak

She hisses a fey kiss
The kiss of a ventriloquist
An arrow from 40 paces out

It arrives with a thud
Tastes of verdigris
Clings like a claw

I tumble but not alone
The day falls like a corpse
We two have come to an end


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© Solomon 2009

Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

WHAT IS THE WORD?

WHAT IS THE WORD?

by Solomon

He asks why she won't talk
He won't look at her eyes
Where everything is screamed
Years pass in a murmur

Then
He touches her alabaster shoulder
Pale and dead
From not being touched

She stands paralysed by emotions
Lashing her like spices blended
To overwhelm
To choke

He: I fell into your path
Like an accursed star, didn't I?
She: Why did you love me?
I was always ugly with honesty

He: It's not that I loved you
But more that I loved myself
Carrying the burden of loving you
He is brutal with himself. She loosens.

He: I loved you sad,
Broken and hurting
Less when you were glinting
Like a kite

She: Is this our reprieve?
Bring your lips closer
Push that word into my mouth
Make this golem stir

She raises her head, knowing
She's generous with one
Who should be held down
Under water

She: Will you be like before
When we spoke from dawn
Till shadows grew long
When we had a beginning?

He hugs her a thousand words
She takes them as a kindling
The lost years waft up
To that silent watching Word

© Solomon

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Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

Ashes to ashes

In Your Grave

by Solomon

Make some space.
I'll lie down in your grave with you.
I don't believe everything I say,
But let me be quoted, I will lie with you.

We took the road of no directions,
Savoured the long way, put nothing away,
Free of any nudges and kicks,
Of assets pulsing in the womb of the bank.

You admired the clever little panda
Xiao Peng, Deng
And the writer who went into the Mexican furnace
To lose and find herself amidst the mirages.

Asked where you were on the 30th of February
You told me. I laughed.
You frowned up dark rain-clouds
… how did we pass our eternity?

I am still waltzing with memories.
You never had a grave.
This slip of ash, new on my shoulder,
Is it you?


© Solomon 2009

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Solomon's private writing is a balance to what he writes from 9-5.

A God Day

Day of the God (Mahana no Atua), 1894 by Paul Gauguin (French, 1848-1903)

Oil on canvas, 26 7/8 x 36 in. (68.3 x 91.5 cm) 

Helen Birch Bartlett Memorial Collection, 1926.198 Gallery 246

A GOD DAY

by Solomon

The gears are all in mesh.
My veins are swollen with confidence.
Today I can skip under
The skin of eternity
And become that galloping horse,
Feel like a king
Who has all things in place.

Any one of today's 86,400 seconds,
I will have lived the best day
Of my life.

You know my number, Lord.
Call my time.

Let someone else move up the queue.
Taste this avalanche of endorphins.

© Solomon 2009

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Solomon is a rather private person. He works as a freelance copywriter in KL. He likes writing lines like these, when not thinking communications stuff.