SCOTT ALEXANDER MCKENZIE

Repos d'amour on balmy afternoon,
Her glowing leaf floats gently back to bed,
Where sated eyes find vision of her swoon,
His leaf still drifting somewhere ‘bove this spread,

Content is she who studies this man’s face,
With features like a living billet-doux,
She reads his lines at sultry lover’s pace,
The bard of this midsummer rendezvous,

Now lost in love but grateful for this place,
She’s found by eyes returning longing stares,
With moments spent in visual embrace,
She beams and then, in quiet tones, declares,

“I’m not the same as when you first knew me,”
“My Dear,” says he, “You’re better; I love thee.”

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Sharp hoe and rake disturb the settled soil,
While shears, when used, will cleanly cut that limb,
And spade shall uproot weed as mortal foil,
Could tending life in gardens be more grim?

Disturb, uproot, and cut, ‘tis what we must,
When vibrant, happy flowers we intend,
Yes, courage to let go takes faith and trust,
Yet vital if ye seek thee to transcend,

True too with human gardens, don’t you see?
Tho merciless and callous it may seem,
To pull up roots and cut that bond from thee,
‘Tis oft the only way; thy soul to beam,

My Dear, I know it’s painful, but you’ll see,
Disturb your life and soon you’ll have your glee.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

I see your lips move; I can’t hear a sound,
‘Cept the buzz ‘midst the fog and the ringing,
In this mind, thousands of questions abound,
Dark news from you, doctor, still stinging,

Tho’ tears: they shall be not wasted on thee,
For my husband, my sister, my friends,
And faith in the Lord bring comfort to me,
While this cancer, from me, will be cleansed,

I’ve found that objects don’t matter, you see,
Ev’ry sunrise in morning brings bliss,
Fam’ly and gardens shall feed my esprit,
And rescue my soul from this darkened abyss,

Know this, before you would label me "ill,"
That God, for me, has a Grand Purpose still.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Be still! My eyes have opened; I spy thee,
E’en as I dream you’re there, but now I know,
My answered prayer: you’re here in bed with me,
Your youthful glow now ‘rousing this blood flow,

Vinous lips and Venus hips; they move me,
And too, thin errant lock ‘cross silken cheek,
Lazing love, thy vision: ‘tis my glee,
Exquisité du physique angelique,

Night is gone, but Hypnos has you still; while,
Temptation… he is urging me to kiss,
In hopes to 'waken thee with eager smile,
Nocturnal curtains better drawn with bliss.

E’en as I ponder, you begin to stir,
Love stretches; then, like kitten, 'gins to purr.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Wee lass in deep blue dress and soft white lace,
When only small, did find her lifelong call,
‘Twas carry water; share her love and grace,
To nurture blooms, while hers, she could forestall,

Young wife in deep blue pain and hard white face,
Through gritted teeth and scream, brought forth new life,
‘Twas months she carried water in her vase,
Now puddled there as symbol of that strife,

Tired mum in deep blue strain and fine white ‘bode,
Served rhubarb pies, while kitchen table cries,
‘Came river of regret; ‘twas fastly flowed,
To raging sea, replete with blackened skies.

Tempest gone; she’s stranded on this isle alone,
To ponder deep blue sea and soft white foam.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Burnt and bloody broken board; this is our war,
Where misplaced trust became this gun… that bomb,
As denouement to dark jet fighter roar,
America, she fell like old V'etnam,

Foul fortnight now passed since I saw you last,
At great expense, ‘tis ye I’ve come to see,
But crumpled note makes fast my weary ghast,
And sets me on this treach’rous quest for thee,

I will not cease; I will not sleep, my dear,
Through rain of lead by crosshaired eyes, I’ll race,
'Hind checkpoint drear shall e’er I grow near’r,
To thy grace… the unending root of my pace,

Until, by God’s Will, I find that one place,
Where thine heart beats near mine in one long embrace.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Be with me now, calls tender vi’let flùr,
Come hither heathen, as ye’r wont to been,
Tho as ye do, beware my thorny skew’r,
Wha' ha’e na care for simple suitor skin,

Lo, as ye fail to see, I fail to warn,
And injury to thee, you’ll lastly see,
For burden be to thee and by thee borne,
To seek the con-vo-lu-ted needs of me,

For I am Scot, so know this now or then,
I winna bend to pet ye wheengin’ saul,
So take your time, and try your luck again,
But this time: more finesse and less banal,

Nae, if you want to spend with me these years,
Bring your thick skin and your heid... or find your tears.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie