ontheheath: (Default)
my heart was open to a change of mind
but as things stood I just had to leave her behind

and since pleasure is the standard of choice
I had to enjoy mine, hard as it was to resist our electric chemistry…

and the sweet seduction of her voice
that upon auditory perception drew me to her
with the natural affinity of sexual chemotaxis

but even a fraction contains infinity
so although I felt incomplete without her
I still had to find my forever

I had to keep moving to my tune
trying to make sense of the universe…

this mysterious perpetuum mobile

© Heath Muchena, 2016
ontheheath: (Default)
even stars and planets die
so I know my day too will arrive
but while I have breath and I’m still alive
it’s only right that I take the time
and thank you for helping me to find
meaning in life through love
because now I know why
we live and die, love and lose
and you may think it’s too soon
but the fact is that moment always looms
and there’s never enough time to say goodbye
so should our paths never collide
again in this lifetime
know that our souls will once more be unified
ground or sky – who knows
but I suppose somewhere in this universe
where all eternity lies

© Heath Muchena, 2016
ontheheath: (Default)
Bright faced with the pomp of golden yellow like the subtle glow of the sun behind a rainbow. She was delicate and ripe, fertile and so strong. She could elevate herself above all the fellows – like a queen bee that flies higher than all the males, and to choose her king she bids them follow – only to watch them fall off, until one that endures the most and rises up closest is chosen. As such, all the macho pursued her – hoping to outdo their foes, but only he was focused – not on the other suitors but on her alone. And like a moth to the flame he drew her to him, since he could never lift himself to her height.

© Heath Muchena, 2016
ontheheath: (Default)
he was determined to secure the land
through the programme of resettlement
to further his own ends
but he could only do this with the consent of the chief…

so even as a stupendously gifted negotiator
he still had to approach the mission with the astuteness of Disraeli when he managed to have the Khedive accede to Britain’s influence over the Suez Canal by buying up the company’s shares…
in essence, every part of his execution had to be very calculated

and he didn’t want to think of failure or rather set backs
all risks had been considered and he was more than willing to take…
with a vision of building something great
just how he imagined the Michelin brothers must have felt
back in 1888

besides, it was too late to backtrack
when the true test of his strength and fate awaited
so from there he took only forward steps, albeit with bated breath
towards the goals he had set
promising not to stop even for a moment of rest
suggesting that would be worse than death

said he’d would face every moment with courage
aligning his faith with his desires
since only by believing as such
would the desires be fulfilled

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
even if the youth continue to spurn the old ideas and traditions
an absolutist state that doesn’t crumble in a time of great economic downturn
may never come under greater impetus for change
and it may be best to move your self to another dominion

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
I’ll continue to work with this pen
’til mother puts flowers on my grave
then prays… amen!

and just like Grigori Perelman
I don’t do it for profit or gain
though I could not turn down a million

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
every nugget of gold
will have its impurities

and because nature is raw
you too shall have your idiosyncrasies

now consider that even the sun has spots
but always remember that they are only made visible by the light
that the sun itself shines out and away

and learn that existence is sort of quid pro quo
so life is such that at times you have to wear the chargrined smile

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
fallible youth

fervent and vain

with a missing tooth

and a turf burn

up and down

on a seesaw

sun-kissed brown

little hero

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
you’ll love

you’ll lose

and let go

then love again

and sometimes even better than before

if along the way you somehow managed to grow

but taking into account the odds

you’re bound to lose once more

however, by this time, it shouldn’t be as difficult for you to move on

but if so, then a kind of sorrow soon follows

still, as long as man lives, man hopes

and so you’ll go on

waiting for your god to grant the mate your soul longs for

© Heath Muchena

half token

Feb. 13th, 2016 03:29 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
early Saturday morning

her scent still lingered but she’d disappeared

she liked to sleep in her own bed

and besides, she didn’t want to become attached,

neither did he

yet she’d left him longing

and hoping that the next time, she wouldn’t just leave a token

but instead would stay

but before brunch she was back

telling him how she’d hardly slept –

confused by the feelings he’d aroused in her

then they spent the day together

’til early Sunday morning

when again the night abducted her like Proserpina –

although he’d have sworn even Bernini

would not have been able to sculpt her – being so sophisticated

she told him that she’d wished him into existence

and he responded telling her she was the best he’d ever seen

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
glorious sky

luminous mass

here to wash

the night’s dye

many may wonder

why it’s you I reference

but if only they knew

of our conversations

and the verses

you’ve blessed me with

some fourteen thousand years before

our common era

when you birthed Stella

in the after hours of the great shower

when stars became the eyes

that would forever tower

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
The worst disease a poet can suffer

is failure to draw to the surface

the pure waters that sit at the bottom of the well of his soul;

the crippling sickness that makes him conceive in his mind from the wealth of his experience – which should never be separate from all that is —

but disables him from sharing it.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
Been waiting so long my blood has turned cold and purple

and I feel like a lone chameleon in a fruitless passion.

You heard me calling for you, I’m sure you did…

I thought the sweet songs might pique your interest,

but it’s been years and now there’s a clot over the bleed —

the wilted four-leaf clover at the edge of this garden tells all…

the tale of not letting go.

All symptoms show a heart at desire’s end,

a passion watered down,

a spirit on its last glow

and a mind bent on letting go…

so I hope this time it’s not all vine and no taters.

© Heath Muchena

Cloud Mine

Feb. 5th, 2016 05:33 pm
ontheheath: (Default)
Her cloud white sclera

was pierced through by the sublime dark centre…

Telling of a loud and bright soul somewhere

beneath all that matter….

We talked over old ties and exchanged new lies —

the kind that become truths fostered by fears…

And when time was no more we kissed…

then we danced ’til the morning, sipping corpse revivers.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
She wasn’t the type that sought the securities to be gotten from his abilities

but rather his soul…
She required he be selfless…

that her beauty be enough…

as if Serapis was really Christ,

as if Arius wasn’t right.

She thought herself the sun…
the one with whom he would synthesise…

along with the multitudes who could not escape her rays

and those who basked in them… adulating…

Only to tremble upon night’s return

when She unthreaded the warm cocoon

leaving them at the cross roads of the unholy matrimony.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
All that surrounds me seems well adjusted,

And the harmonious silence of the night stirs up recollections;

Wherein I hear your heartbeat.

The sweetest music, the softest drumbeat.

Remember when I used to rest my head beneath your breast with my ear

Listening to your rhythm?

When all that mattered was us,

When we risked everything;

When it was worth living.

Even these winter beaten trees still manage generosity and give me air,
So please give me something so I know you’re still there…

Because although I live, it’s for nothing if not for you…

What’s the purpose of a life of imprisoned passions?

Yet there’s hope of flowering for the tree when the seasons change,

Hope that the stars will once again light up the sky when the clouds clear.

But does that spell hope for us?

Every one seems better matched

Because you’re not next to me.

I remember you once said that if it had been me you’d have adopted my name…

Even if distance is in the way; the memories are not faded.

Just preserved…whilst I wait and hope for reunions belated and happier days.

And although the compass that brought me to you,

Is for the time being making sure you remain lost to me,

Somewhere southeast …

Know that I miss you still.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
When observing one’s own thoughts,

At certain heights of insight,

One may find some revelations distasteful

And some – the purest of delights.

As illusions are exposed

And a little genius reaffirmed.

Although oxymoronic…

Simple truths remain mostly at inaccessible peaks,

And if one goes a step further to attempt interpretation

As a scientist would draw up his theory,

Is he aware of the limitations?

A respectable lady once asked a young poet

Why he dares bare his soul in words made public,

And the young man answered:

Because the truth, is, as such – already revealed.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
When a man reminisces about old lovers,
His instincts are revived.
He considers his current prospects
And rejoices in old ‘conquests’.
There’s a beautiful nostalgia about it all
And he goes on loving even when he has ceased lusting.

Now assuming as I am…
That when a woman calls on her memory
And remembers old encounters,
She may initially delight in the triggers of that very remembrance –
Often some amusing idiosyncrasies or affectations;
But then she is forced to remember his essence –
How he had her, and how he destroyed her beautiful illusion…
So she ceases to love when her youth withers.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
Distant like the stars
We watched through the panes
Of my bedroom.

Wide as your smile
When I touched you, my hands
On your womb.

Deep as my love
Sweet pain –
Thorny bloom.

Permanent like the scars
Marked on the hearts of man –
Our blood pumping balloons.

Love lost, lust gained;
Lust lost, love gained.

© Heath Muchena
ontheheath: (Default)
mother has a beautiful garden wherein grows beetroot, okra, carrots, kale, spinach, cauliflower, lettuce, peppers, tomatoes, parsley, mint, sage, all kinds of vegetables and herbs….

surrounding the garden are paw paw, mango, lemon, banana, loquat, guava, avocado, and peach trees….

she said: the rains were good this year… even the well is full. I spent all day in the garden tending… weeding, watering roots, plucking and picking a few leaves and fruits whilst contemplating some truths. My son, there are invaluable lessons to be learned from doing earthly work… for me nothing gives more satisfaction than horticulture… I get so much delight – even greater than laughter… and in doing it I’ve come to know the true aspect of reward and frankly earned more than I could’ve ever from a seat in the office….

© Heath Muchena


ontheheath: (Default)

September 2016

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