WHEN SEARCHING FOR WHO WE WILL BE, AFTERWARDS

29/05/202018/05/2020 / deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

What if a rose grew on the far side of the moon,

now, after, later?

Would we spread out time to explore the space
between the bloom and the branch?

Nature is a construct, much like the moon-
we don’t always consider it when we cut its roots

or ignore its connection to the current.

Remove ourselves from obstruction and regard potential
from this far side of confined distance

that plants consideration.

See how far a single petal can travel without our interaction.

We cannot go back to before. Select assimilate

instead of annihilate.

There is a rose now, growing on the far side of the moon
and it didn’t need our manhandling to get there.

All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly

THE RABBIT AND THE OXYMORON

11/05/202004/05/2020 / deuxiemepeau / 1 Comment

I am still so you can move

You twitch
when you think I’m about to turn

I view you as delight and you define me
as demonic

You glow of late
like the recently planted grass
in the side garden of sunlight that used to only sit
in shade

Coming closer to brave with every beat
you come out faithful to the evening’s song
when shadows are longer and stiller

and skip over blossoming blade

I make lists of where to walk and how to step
later, afterwards

so as not to thread over the freedom
you press upon that patch

of newly grown blades of soft grass.

Blades of soft grass. Movement amid all the stillness.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

DON’T COME TO TAME THE CAT

09/05/202003/05/2020 / deuxiemepeau / 2 Comments

Red sun burns below a blue moon
and the tiger rips through trees
to escape the cat. Sometimes
small things need to be as sharp
as an icicle even when the sun
comes to burn red beneath blue
moons while she sings of those
crazy cries of Havana’s love.
She sang of Paris once while
somewhere else and California
while in Greece. She was blue too,
like that moon, while in green
and again with those icicles
and no baby for birthday clothes-
letting go’s a bitch, like moving on,
even if you’re just a fearless pussy
cat and the tiger is too scared
to fuck with you. Earlier, luxuriant
leant in, hissing all over her
manicured lawns of blue pools
and strangling centrepieces.
Always the blue below that burning
sun and those picture-perfect settings
as if to foretell of all that will follow.
Red sun burns below a blue moon
and pussy purrs alone while the tiger
takes cover beneath the shade of
the green cactus tree with phallic
spikes that look like limp icicles.

All words and drawings by Damien B Donnelly. Some thoughts inspired by the music and lyrics of Joni Mitchell

COME THE GLEAMING

02/05/202002/05/2020 / deuxiemepeau / 5 Comments

New leaf climbs old tree-
this ivy will not be held
down is no direction,
dynamic is the trail of this root
now gleaming on the hallow wood.
Sometimes empty centres are for holding
hopeful hearts.
Layers of leaves come like coats of zinc-
a wrapping for these times were comfort is craved.
Nature nurtures freshly cut back bark
by the side of the garden
where thought had been neglected.
Not everything will survive-
not all bark, not all breath,
but hope, when held, can be as simple
as a trail of fresh branch
born around a broken bark.

Words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

HEARTH

25/04/202017/04/2020 / deuxiemepeau / Leave a comment

The old walls have been walled in
by warmer ones
but their youth has nothing on the cracks
and secrets the originals would disclose
if you could still sit around that old fire
and watch the smoke rise up to the high ceilings
since brought down to a more manageable level
and yet I have seen that hidden height-
looking down from the upper attic-
and I know there are whispers trapped
in those forgotten few feet
just like the heat that must still linger
behind the fake wall and down below the soot
now gathered over the old hearth
where you all once gathered to hear the tales
of how life was tilled and turned and that shrill excitement
when someone first turned on a light,
indoors, in a wide-walled room with high ceilings
that kept the heat away from the feet,
a little room where once there was only darkness
just like the light that was turned on, out there,
in that Space where this world spins
while we know nothing of the whispers
that were once words,
echoing out from other planets that too evolved.