Poetry by Lachlan McDougall

A Summer Memory


in bloom, reckoning the sky
towards a cloudless night.
Sultry summer rain
hisses on the sidewalk—
bloom of Jacaranda	
purple against a slate grey sky.

Wine of holidaymakers	sound of laughter
navel orange splash	cooling upwind of 	(rain)
Long pull of books and films	drag towards
the night of oppressive heat and 	(rain)

Here is the season
of purple blooming
around us wrapped
like a garland wreath;
lively dances
performed for the summer dead

Tuft of Light

lizard beaked sits
riotous in motion; silver
shredded ribbons; blood and dead 

(breathing in the stink)

calm cup of tea
dissolve atmosphere of
hate words; nastiness; just blood
and dead leaves;

(open to the sewer)

skin smooth over porous shale;
seawater laps
the deck of the ship
urine soaked and alabaster;

(soap bubbles over shale)

bring order, bring results
into present time;
blood in the pissoir; ice; smoke; just blood and dead

Sound of Laughter

Sound of laughter		children playing
I haven’t the time		to stop and look
I'm losing the thread		of innocence
You see, I was unnatural		and my time
was fleeting along		with the ermines

Sound of laughter		cold light of fish
the pool of algae		ran rivers of blood
I was Unnatural, it was the time 		I was to lose
fleeting moments		of moonlight
took their anger out		on a lonely boy

Sound of laughter		one wet rock
A flock of seagulls		to shit upon it
Sound of laughter		delicate bones set in the ear
they break at a moment’s		notice
Sound of laughter		it’s all I can do
to stay in touch with		children playing
I haven’t the time		to stop and look


All was gone through layers of night
As I wandered through my sleep,
All was gone through rays of light

I wandered here as though I might
Wander knowing that children weep
All was gone through layers of night

Bludgeoned, I held my form aright
Through holds of sleep’s yellow keep
All was gone through rays of light

Obscenity, profanity held to height
Wafting bleats of nettled sheep
All was gone through layers of night

The pornographic lust grew bright:
A penny, a dollar, sir, just for a peep
All was gone through rays of light

Awake I felt the dirt and blight
Lost in the theme of dream’s full sweep
All was gone through layers of night
All was gone through rays of light.

The Balance

I have hurt my hand.
I do not know when, or where
Or how, 
But I suppose it must
Have been in the delicate
Balance between sanity
And the dark place we fear
To go.

It is not useless.
Just a slight twinge
When I perform a task, 
Simple things
Like arranging my affairs
Or the flowers
Of state.
It is not altogether

Although it does pain me
And I do not know
How it happened
Or whether
There is a purpose
To this injury
That plays on my conscience.

I would ask you,
But I know
That you are not there,
Not altogether
Just a slight twinge
When performing a task.

I have invented a person
To talk to 
And hold,
I do not know
When or where
Or why
But perhaps in the balance
Between sanity

And affairs of the state.


Miles Davis

He was cool when people was still playing
Be-bop that horn zoot rollo

Like a golden tide river stretched out for miles
Pulling me by the ears
Old Devil Moon just be-bop-a-lu

Wail that siren like for fires
Hep cats playing
Hot! Cool! Anything you want!

Lid those eyes over Bitches Brew
You toot hoot full zoot get a snoot
Full of the hippest

Jazz fever bopped along funk rollo

2 thoughts on “Poetry by Lachlan McDougall

  1. Pingback: Six New Poems Published in Synchronised Chaos magazine – Lachlan J McDougall

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