Ian's posterous

T-Minus: 0 - IGNITION

Thanks for all your love.

Ian Kellett

Wed 7th April 2010 11:05

(waiting to board)

T-Minus: 1 - ON PLANES.

It’s not as simple as that,

As I’m yet to step foot inside the cylinder

Which,

Bourne by her breath,

Will fetch me to her heart,

And lay a place therein for my staying.

But she will wish the wings I’m indebted to

A sweatless flight,

And hope indigestion

Does not swell within the metal belly

Of the beast

And feast upon my already nervous stomach.

She will meet the fleet’s inspector

Upon the foothills of heaven

And call upon swiftness to lift the jet’s heavy body

Free of Earth’s lobbyists;

Threatening damnation should

Any ill wind spin me further round her time table.

She is capable of this order of magnitude,

And more,

For no-one but I knows who she is;

Swathed in the uniform of God’s daughter as

She looks after his handsome

Land’s labourers;

She is the good neighbour who never let

Her guard down whilst watching out for

Strangers to welcome,

And as my airbus muscles me safely to her doorstep

She will fret no more,

And thank her Father for his caution.

T-Minus: 2 - ON TRAINS.

Getting ready for the track,

And hopefully a window seat will help me beat

The long course

And any talk of boredom

That might happen to land on me,

Or indeed it may ward off the excited chattering

Of travelling companions

Who haven’t been out for a while,

Or strangers in range of my ears.

Of course plugs and a constant stream

Of shuffled tunes

Cruising through my corridors

Will have the same effect,

But the power source for such may be required

For more fraughtful times

When travelling in 3 dimensions

Increases the tension

And distractions are more attractive.

As it is the railway’s coruscating

Images of passing Britain

Will have me smitten long enough to

Ease anxiety

And any lingering looks my clock face may

Try to squeeze from me,

And before I know it London’s glowing majesty

Will rise before me

And welcome me back into its fold.

T-Minus: 3 – ON CHANGING.

Walking with a bag of chilled beer

And sack full of hot food,

Held together,

And wondering which is making

An impression on the other.

I’m questioning the effects,

Although trying not to shake

Myself too quickly

In either direction as there is only

One route for me to choose:

The far road that winds into the realm

Of the West and open land,

Where she stands

Holding her love before her

Influencing every event;

Handing me fingers to cling to

When I think me positionless,

And winching me

Safely over obstacles that litter

Every brittle hill between us.  

The high ground shines down,

But binds so as I bound

Along its path,

And righteousness was never known

To lay the unworthy low,

And I will arrive desirable

And more suitable for her than I

Have been for anyone,

And she will see the truth of

My commuted self.

T-Minus: 4 – ON EDGES.

Ticking off check lists

And unpacking suitcases

Bundled full of bits yesterday

To see if they would look great that way

Then realizing half the things required have

Been left on their wire hangers in the wardrobe,

And essential paperwork has been neglected

In favour of a last minute beverage which I

Had to have whilst passing the boozer

In order to settle my nerves so I’d

Be able to keep calm and

Remember things,

And all the fine detail

Of a lifetime’s adventure has

Been picked over enough times

To enable me to fly on auto-pilot, but

Still I have that nagging zealot at the back

Of my head yelling that something dreadful

Will happen if I don’t pack ten pairs of pants,

Or enough tops to out rig Arctic activity,

Or sufficient shoes to use on all soils

Regardless of the fact I’ll not be

Tracking animals in summer

Jungles or cold tundras,    

So I need to shake

My brain and remain

Awake to allow doubts to

Be cleared out and replaced by

A pen tick’s certainty and any rabid

Captains hanging around the rigid fringes

Can be singled out and ring fenced whilst

Common sense recommences loading

The essentials I’ll need for boarding

An ordinary airplane and flying

From my home sky to hers

Beyond the horizon.

T-Minus: 5 – ON UNCOVERING.

Now is a new leaf,

And here it’s turned,

And underneath I’ve found

Love waiting

For me to learn the act of reversing

My fortunes.

A coin flip did it for me:

Heads I stay,

As sense and its intentions

Tend to safety;

Tails I go,

As stories always reward me.

And down a country

Lane,

Raining green in autumn,

I came upon the thought

That you

Are all I’ll ever need,   

As there before me,

Amidst an antique scene of

Nature’s bliss,

The proof of love

Was concealed within

The Earth’s regeneration,

And venerated by the world’s

Spinning seasons;

For just as reason strains to save us,

New seeds,

Rooted deeper,

Are showing us the truth.

T-Minus: 6 - ON SOULS.

A week fills the room between us;

An area that only yesterday was greater

But is now reduced,

And will continue to shrink

Until the linchpins at either end bend and break,

And make such space invisible.

And then we’ll be united

Within the confines of our own country;

Between borders of a realm

We have welded together

From separate centres of temperament,

And will administer forever.

Existence will never need

To wade through and weed us again,

Or listen to our transmissions;

We will be as one

Who was always intended

To be undone on eternity’s shore.        

And in this place we will keep meeting,

Even fleetingly or flown:

If you’re an elephant, I’ll be a mouse,

If a mouse a cat, a cat a dog;

I will haunt you throughout life,

And if you come back a man I’ll be your wife.

T-Minus: 7 - ON RISK.

If life is destined to be a car crash

Then there’s nothing to do

Except get up from the wreck

And go to the next intersection.

And if you suffer a severe instance

Of goose pimples

Then be ready to be rid of it

As you hit upon life’s highway;

You can eat a steak without chewing,

Or go bareback whilst screwing,

Or get a gun and cock it

And stick it in your pocket,

For I long to protect you,

Though not hover over your shoulder too closely,

And would rather have a heart that’s broken

Than one un-woken.

And if the goods of love are

Shoveled up and stacked

Next to the bed then be ready to use

Them for their purpose,

And if women rape men, with a knife at their throat,

Then I hope it empowers them,

And you can call me Daddy

But only in the bedroom.

Let us love like a fisherman who fell for his catch

For that’s how possible love is,

And if we wonder about what to say

We’ll realize we can utter what the fuck we want.

T-Minus: 8 - ON ANNIVERSARIES.

Time falls from the calendar

And lands in words

And simple verse,

As hands and faces change

Within the envelope of his first year.

I’ve monitored it honestly

And saved its tiers,

And for this feat

I’ve been rewarded by his

Simple life affirming cheer.

But no sooner was he due, and making news,

Than being removed,

And I was forced to choose

A different course,

That chose to lead me closer to atonement,

And the remit of this situation

Paves the way

To reparation;

Fitting jigsaw piece like

Into the space I had laid for such a moment.

And now you’re within reach,

About a week

Away from me,

As all the clocks and time

Zones in the world have so revealed,

And with his happiness

Now set in place,

Your face

Will take me further than

I ever would have thought ideal.  

T-Minus: 9 - ON STRIVING.

I’m going to pull the hull from this rowing machine

And do sit up till I’m ripped and buff,

My arm curls will make the world spin

And their served purpose will be enough.  

I’ll start until I’m back where I began,

As the shape of my waist changes; 

I’ll plant my hands into the land

And grow stronger from its drainage.

I’ll paint your name across the world’s pages,

Fly the skies in order to know you;

Maintain the grains of all the stages

Between your reaping and my sowing.

Punctuate the air with both my fists

And rattle them at battleships,

Ensure that my insistence is fitting

And kiss the mist away from morning lips.

Sift the truth from the stew of possibilities

That boils over oil fired wells,

Detect the check mate cost of willingness

That drives some lives towards hell.

Tear myself back from an action’s try

That would require friction cream,

And launch into a corner of paradise

That promises more honour for me;

For here in the clearing is where I am,

And there in ensnared land you are,

And I’ve managed to stem the damage

That threatened to set us apart;

I’m chasing the laziness from my bones,

Caressing the stress from my hide,

Replacing the ungrateful in my home

And raising my game for the ride.