Lord Cuddle’s Cradle Cravings

she had nothing on but a sarong

Polynesian pareu

hair down to her shoulders flowing

hips moving – full view

as she serenaded him with song

trying his best to stay calm

but mesmerised by her glow

never before had he laid eyes on a creature this beautiful

nothing short of a godsend angel

lavender sleep

cradle cravings

deep in dream

was Lord Cuddle

Fenomeno – Case & Condition 

On this night, the heavens were mantled with rosy lights
The two tucked into their Cape Receife Sea Bass caught at noontide
And served with all kinds of verdure
While they got to talking about their endeavours

Disagreeing only upon some subtle trivialities
Such as whether something ought to be classified unnatural or naturally defective
But on matters of significant interests they were clever to keep their discourse largely agreeable

I suppose to be cultured or cultivated is to understand that caution need not imply cowardice
And appeasing another’s taste is the best way to serve a good dish

After a few sips of the Vergelegen wine
The gentlemen naturally loosened their lips
And the conversation flowed in the direction of Lionel Phillips’ wife, Florence, almost destroying the wine estate’s potential to grow such palatable sweet vines
What a disaster that would have been – the men agreed

‘I’ve always figured that every producer is essentially a consumer, but not every consumer is a producer
Just as not every politician, sound as his ideas may be, is a practical man,’ one of the men remarked

‘The same can be said of men today
Too much action but misplaced arginine,’ the other responded

‘Enter the age of woman
Form taking on new meaning’

‘And perhaps power – a new definition’

‘Whatever the case… even though it appears mankind is finally taking steps in the right direction to address inequality, I still get the sense that it may just be the beginning of a new type of conditioning…’

And the conversations carried on until first light

Heath Muchena, 2017

Mulberry Mews

the world’s conniving
and it’s cold outside

I’d rather stay here
where it’s warm
inside you
all night

before tomorrow arrives
and I shall be inclined to return to the mine
to work and earn my ether
an endeavour which may take forever

but to decentralise and self-govern is destiny
like an application on the Ethereum blockchain

so who am I to go against the grain?
I was born to be free and staying would eventually give me fetter pains

pardon my utterances if they’ve become cryptic all of a sudden
it’s just that I’d rather not spoil the evening – this moment
by telling you what I’ve been withholding

that by sunrise
I’m to journey to a land of fire and mud volcanoes
way out there in Azerbaijan
where I shall be on assignment before proceeding to Uzbekistan
to view the Savitsky Collection

o, believe me woman
to be so far away from you for so long
is to slice the heart open

and as I stand here now on our bedroom balcony
smoking this organic golden leaf grown in granitic loam
while you curl up on the daybed looking at me
unawares you’ve just inspired a poem

letter forms and written words retrieved from memory as I create

thinking how the world’s conniving
and how cold it is outside

I’d rather come there
where it’s warm
inside with you

Heath Muchena, 2017

Made in the Moor

beyond the silvery tinkle of a stream
I could hear the birds sing

the tremulous tench sky
shifting from golden to red

heavenly beams

then suddenly she appeared
as if out of a dream

and when hers met mine – our eyes

nothing more to be said
but that we found happiness

Heath Muchena, 2017