Robert James Berry

There is nothing

so spectacular

as a clear highway

winding into the beyond

hugging the gnarly hills

streaking across floodplains

leaping over bridges

never reaching a destination 

I like to drive

as the sun goes down

watch the dark acres

of the paddocks rush by

watch a star

nail itself into the black sky

my foot pressed to the metal

the miles flying by.

She kept tropical fish

they made beautiful pets

I meet her

when she was ninety-five

she had so many stories

to air. She could talk

unceasingly

it was hot stuff

about the great war

the great depression

she had survived everything

the world threw at her. 

I was distraught

when she went. So I am writing

this big hymn of praise

to recollect her originality.

Immeasurably distant galaxies

intrigue me. A smudge

of silver. In an astronomer's

routine shot of the night sky

but how mindbendingly marvellous

to think each star

might have its planetary system

capable of maintaining life.

I believe humanity

may well crack physical laws

voyage to these outer edge places 

survey other worlds. That is why

I take immeasurable pleasure

earth bound though I may be

gazing up at the indescribable harvest

of the distant stars.

Time

preserves footprints

on the beach 

for poets to marvel at

the heavy tread

of my ancestor

his child and dog

trotting beside him

it must have been

eight hundred years

since life coursed

in his veins

but a firm imprint

of his history

is captured in stone

for me to mull upon.

I steer clear

of the controversial 

I am something

of a prude

I don't like to upset

my readers

there are so few

of them

I do admit

I have a tendency

to be bleak

which bucks

the current trend

however I like to give

what is expected

slightly boring material

with a hint

of a shiver 

to make you

sit up.

Scratch it out

start again

try some doodles

fill your margins

with indecipherable

nonsense

only make sure

something is created

from the debris

I cannot have

unfinished manuscripts 

they cloud my mind

I have no faith

in magnificent torsos

they're an eyesore

tie together

all those loose ends

finish your poem.

I am high caste

blue blood

courses in my veins

I shall not mix

with the lesser orders

they serve me

when I drink

I shall not touch

the rim of my cup

for fear

it is tainted

by lesser lips

I am fair-skinned

I abhor the swarthy races

my glorious ancestors

were intellectual men

experts in scripture 

we prize our education.

The words

have mounted up

out of all proportion 

it would be impossible

to collect

every line

I have ever written 

fortunately

the majority 

is dross

and shall sink

into oblivion

this verse 

may embrace

a similar fate

you may glance at it

decide it's not your flavour

discard it with the other trash.

My poetry

can be somewhat

scant

with the truth

I am obsessively unkind

to my Mother. I use my spouse

to fuel drama

I myself seldom appear.

The themes I call upon

are all inflated. Sentimentality 

weeps in my lines. Melodrama

is rife. All in all

it is a sorry mess. I should love

to weave lean classical lines

be a master of form. But

such fine art is beyond me.

He could do

with a radical makeover

shed some of that fat

shear his tangled hair

that grows like forest

shave away his ridiculous moustache

he looks like a pauper

the baggy track pants

are unlaundered

his socks are unspeakable

some mouthwash

would be welcome

however

he feels it is proper

to look like a prophet

poets should never

dress up like city bankers

they won't tolerate lies.

Notwithstanding

the elephantine imprint

you left

on my life

I cannot say

I loved you 

I hated you 

you messed

with my head

I still need therapy.

The buzzing

in my head

troubles me

superstition

says

people

are talking

I don't 

believe

such tosh

it is my

schizophrenia

it slays me

a seismic

event

come to shake

my world.

Light edges under her door

despite her meticulous efforts

to hide herself from the day

she despises the sun

it wreaks havoc with her skin

which is akin to alabaster

sensitive beyond understanding

I once tried to drag her into the daylight

she hissed like a stricken vampire

I never try now

I let her revel in her gloom

I overlook her ashen pallor.

I'd often make

a clown of myself

at school

the seniors

loved to prank me

so I'd look stupid

in front of the whole class

I was idiotic

I smiled far too much

but in examinations

I excelled myself

I was top at everything 

teachers thought I cheated

because how could a fool like me

amount to anything.

If I was castaway

on a coral atoll

parched

salt in my gills

I don't imagine

I'd survive

abundant coconuts

would not quench

my thirst

I'd never be able

to spear fish

I might grow

a terrific beard

despair

of ever being rescued

lose my mind.

The silence is explosive

he can hear her

biting her nails

to the quick

the need for recreational drugs

to plaster over the cracks

in their scary marriage

is evident. They will share

some weed, do a line

of something wild

until they are sky high

and nobody bothers

any longer

about sour relationships

or insurmountable differences

because who cares.

I hate all this digital money

it is like moving around bean counters

having none of the satisfaction

of a pay packet

or a sizeable cheque

you might cash

in a high street bank

I know I am becoming old

losing my cool celebrity

but I did prefer it

when money had glamour

when heavy coins filled your pockets 

when you could leer

over your bank book

and feel joyously rich.