Posts Tagged ‘travel’

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Ski Ramp Progress

September 28, 2017

Ski ramp Progress

The roofs slope the same way

sliding up like ski ramps to the sky.

Old and new. Older and newer.

Their same ambitions and fates

like that of everything’s. Just conditional.

No comment on progress or decay or rebirth.

All is one thing in another form.

Who cares to remember? Nostalgia

is the present disease of the past.

Keep aiming up and looking that way

keep no foot on the rubble of our memories.

They are no foundations for the future.

Just features for photos on Sunday afternoons.

Like clouds, they are what you say they are.

Think no more of them and look for meanings

only in the pillows of smog above us.

1/10/2015 – Taken in Jimei, Xiamen, China.

Been a long time to share my poetry on this blog…mostly since I have lived in China…though I still have words written and stories to tell, I will start sharing some more and reading yours. Goldbot.

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Last Night in Manila

November 13, 2014

Bus trip, shower and shave.

The night is paved with possibilities.

Jeepneys march on and taxis prowl.

Rum and wine are poured.

A breeze brushes hair

the humidity is moved along unwillingly.

It’ll be back but tonight we have reprieve.

With only hours left and the only relief

for our expectations is to leave everything here

money, courtesy, friends, foes, ladyboys,

nightcrawlers, dignity and memories,

Manila, they’re yours.

*

AJG

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Steve Sanfield Inspired Scratchings

August 21, 2014

In Mexico I found a copy of Steve Sanfield’s A New Way and I really like his poetry. I know he does haiku and it reflects in the writings of this collection. Reflections on his life, that have brevity, clarity and insight. These were just some unedited poems of my own inspired by his from a day last month.

__________

Another window outside and another seat.

Sitting again and watching

always ready to start.

No gun to tell me so.

___________

The whisky had me beaten Tuesday.

Thursday all I’m waiting for’s the weekend.

___________

Tomatoes – 40 yen cheaper.

A hyaku head of cabbage.

Three cucumbers half price and

the cheapest carton of milk.

Savings done I grab a bottle of Maker’s

and leave.

____________

It’s breaking down around me

or I’m destroying it.

I’m talking about the house

but you know I mean everything.

Everything is breaking down

now and eventually.

____________

With no distractions

Facebook or BBC updates

I find myself writing. For now

the fantasy’s still beating reality.

_____________

An old Korean man told me not to worry.

Women are like buses-

another one will eventually come.

I wasn’t worried about that.

I was worried that women

were like bus crashes.

______________

I look at all the Japanese and

how strange they dress.

On the platform

they are all looking at me.

_______________

AJG

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The Cycle (revise)

July 7, 2014

 

Snow vomits down,

purging itself from the sky.

Frozen parcels bond and form

in perfect unity. Symmetry.

How do they choose who to grasp?

Much like us I suppose

by the random grace of proximity.

Freeze in form and tear away

leaving gases and liquids

for something more tangible.

Seizing one another until the weight combined

is too much for the sky to bear.

Plummet down

individuality forgotten

for a common need to survive.

Finding shared purpose

in the roil of frozen storms.

Clasping one another through the cloud break

how must they feel?

As the ground moves closer

is there panic, fear, resignation

or nothing?

Soon nothing.

Soon as much as there ever was.

As much as they ever were.

From the sky to the sea to the earth

and all again they return.

A brief cohesion and confusion

settling once once more

into the cycle of rebirth.

 

 

AJG

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Isles Poetry – On Credit

December 12, 2013

The sun swoons over the bay

drunk on its own heat.

Expanding over visitors

who pay the price for idleness

with throbbing tans.

The flame of their imaginations

fanned by thoughts of the future.

Of lives appreciated

from short sold holidays.

Only thoughtless wishes

bought on credit.

*

Back at home we ride office tables

like hurricane flotsam

the only thing keeping us afloat.

In the distance of computer screens

we see oases shimmering

merely reflections from windows.

The lustre of dreams fades

to reality and realisation

that escape is indefinite.

Only thoughtless wishes

bought on credit.

*

AJG

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An Ending + Lazy Posts

December 3, 2013

This is a lazy post. Or perhaps its a rational one. I think its both. The below poem was a fragment to a poem. The start of a poem that was meant to end, but was left. I like it however. As although it is small and was the start to a poem, it is also an ending. It is both. Going back and trying to change it would alter what I felt before. It would add the me of now to the me of then, and, although we are the same people, we are in different times and places. So in that way, it is rational to leave it as it is. And it is also lazy to leave it as it is.

 

An Ending

A peach sunset falls slowly over the bay.

The beach cools, the tourists shake their towels and stroll,

the shadows on the green hills darken.

I sway in my seat, sip my beer, and mull.

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Isles Poetry – Connexion to Mars + Thoughts

November 28, 2013

 The journey is almost complete. I have 1 more hour left of work. I have let my replacement take the rest of my classes and I will…well I don’t know. Have some drinks? Do some writing? Watch TV? I am all excited, nervous, and unsure about what is next. Even the next couple of days. I still have to do a couple of things, but there is nothing really to do but catch a plane and all the shit that that involves…first world problems…really, no plans, except the rest of my life.  Just another step down and a darkened space below. That was a long way of saying, ‘I don’t know what to write.’ Perhaps when I reach the afterglow, when I leave and reflect back I will have some thoughts. I still have many incomplete poems to finish for my poetry project Isles, which recounts my thoughts and experiences of 6 months of life working on a little island in Thailand.

Here is another poem for the compilation…digest.

Connexion to Mars

The speedboat thumps over a sea like broken glass;

sparkling, jagged and blue.

I recline and rock with the motion

shading my eyes while stealing glimpses

of clouds like thought bubbles in the sky

thinking beyond these

of one way tickets to Mars and the fact

that there is nowhere now we cannot go.

Other passengers grumble discontent at the crowds

disturbing their deserted paradise.

Mystery is the bliss

of the ignorant fantasies we create.

But reality and its routines create familiarity.

From one tropical island to the next

we pass dozens more

filling a line up to the mundane.

Plane tickets to deserted paradises

are packaged with paradox illusions.

Connexion has killed isolation.

Mystery dies as we are one step

closer to Mars.

Goldbot

© ONYECHE VINZ POETRY

© TALKING TO MYSELF THROUGH POETRY

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