All The Way From Japan
The postcard arrives late morning, possibly early afternoon,
All the way from Japan,
Lies unattended, serenaded by bird song chorus,
Hears empty echoes of footstep on concrete stairwell.
Has waited in drifting Sahara desert dust storm,
Has sheltered in remote Algerian Bedouin village,
Sipped piping hot sugar saturated fresh mint leaf tea
Quenching and soothing parched lips from the
Rose petal bursting with silk worm life
The straw that broke the camel’s back
Mad dogs and Englishmen wandering in the midday sun,
The postcard pleads with the writer to breakthrough
And overthrow the blacksmith’s anvil writer’s block,
Compose a poem for the global airways,
Communicate, broadcast to the nation that there is no personal salvation,
Dance to the hip-hop sounds
Scream to blank whitewashed walls of a forgotten generation.
Scream out loud that the lost and prodigal ego has returned,
Found abandoned the other night in a Tesco supermarket trolley.
Ragamuffin rude boy skip a beat
Fall asleep in this putrid heat.
Dazzle, dazzle toil and trouble,
Hit the right beat
Break through the rubble
Jiving in this midnight hour
Please don’t turn the cream cheese sour?
Yet blankly stare at this empty glass.
Watch wide eye yellow full moon vanish in the cloud
As the sun cocooned in that cosmic void
Searches for that solitary sunflower
Stranded in that vast ocean of life
Seeks out fresh pastures and galaxies
Happy to brush against spinning hand carved Buddhist wheels of life.