Though Black Xaloo was duck egg blue
he would insist his name was Black -
he said it put them off our tracks,
those baddies we would hunt OutBack
or chase across huge bed sheet waves,
me riding him through bolster stoppers.
He was my metamorphing, often dwarfing,
my one and only, quite imaginary,
whole menagerie of pets.
So many different forms he'd take -
the only one he couldn't make
was that of human being.
Since then I've known of other kids
with make-believe or made-up pals,
secret chums, an angel even - one that lived
inside my daughter's television -
and adults too, with secret loves,
but Black Xaloo was very special.
My bath was where he first appeared.
Sea surge and seiche, internal
waves rose vertical, infernal in an
enclosed space. The bathroom soon awash.
Me riding him to Babylon.
The mutants all escaped.
Hyena then, was Black Xaloo
(his friendly medic form)
when I was down with 'flu'. Out of the blue -
a darker blue than Black Xaloo's -
my temperature drove me to song,
and he became my Mastodon.
We saved the world a dozen times,
in ultra James Bond style.
He was my horse, my Pegasus, we flew
from mountain top to mountain top.
As bear he was my bodyguard -
but always Black Xaloo.
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Tom Lubbock, writing in The Independent (friday 15 May 2009) returned to the age old topic of censorship in the arts. Well, in painting act...