Scars I

Do not be ashamed
Of the scars you bare;
Do not be sorrowful
On account of these scars,
For God has other plans:
He will heal your wounds
But the scar he intends to remain, endure,
As a reminder of our thanks
For the wounds that Jesus
Bore for us,
For the scars that Jesus
Bares for us.

Scars II

Our scars are like
A living scrapbook,
A breath-filled diary
Of unforgettable memories,
From day one on this Earth
To our last page in mortal form.

Scars III

We were born and set free to the world,
Through our mother's scars.
And so our Father in Heaven
Gifts to us the Holy Grace
Of Eternal Life
With Him,
Through Jesus' scars.

Forgiveness

Can you imagine the love
Of forgiveness required
Towards someone who murdered
Your pet?
God forgave us,
God forgives us,
For the rape, murder, pillage, abuse,
Of all of His creation.
Could you imagine the love
Of forgiveness required
Towards someone who murdered
Your child?
God forgave us,
God forgives us,
For the persecution and murder
Of God in his earthly form,
Of His only Son.
We sin instinctively but knowingly,
As beings of gifted intellect.
We should be persecuted and put to death,
But God forgave us through Jesus —
The Saviour whom we murdered —
So that we may be deserving
Of eternal love and life.
Confess Jesus as your saviour today,
Ask Him to come into your life
And make you a new being,
For no debt is too great for our God.

Dream Addict

The perfectly impossible addiction;
A dream can become like skin cancer —
It can envelope all of you,
Sink its rotten teeth into your reality.
(As Gatsby found,
It can even kill you.)

You can't work out if
It's actually born into your being,
(Thanks to Adam and Eve),
Or the result of a ravishing virus
That has left your cells,
(Your entire existence),
Positively mad,
In its pursuit of
Conquering reality's denial demand.

Rainbow Covenant

God embellished a promise,
By painting an arc of
Seven wondrous colours,
That men sought to recreate across the years:
His surrender of the Flood,
Bearing a count-down of new skies.
Where a rainbow begins and ends its traverse,
Cannot be fathomed by human sight;
Where the creator began and will end this Earth,
Cannot be fathomed by the human mind.
If God keeps his promises,
By rainbows,
Will there not be a rainbow,
At the end of time?
And it will surrender many storms.
Perhaps the signs are already with us:
Wasn't there an impenetrable rainbow
Over New York city
Late 2001?
 

Simple so it seems

Punish both sides equally,
For the wrath of time.
Is it the punisher,
Or the punishee,
Who becomes a victim,
Of the wound of unforgiveness;
The sepsis of bitterness,
That continues to fester,
Throughout the years?
Is it the coward,
Or the impatient wanton bride who loves,
But does not love enough
To do what is right
And end an eternal absence of ring to unite;
Is it she who is therefore the coward?
Who is thee,
Punisher, punishee?
The love of a coward,
Or cowardess reigning all time?
Have we not now suffered same?
Although we'd never feel it
As we see it for the other,
Or see it in the other,
As we feel it for ourselves.

Teething

She said to me:
"You know
There's nothing more stressful
Than writing with your heart."
"Oh no!" I exclaim;
All of life is stressful
Except for that —
The timeless hours,
Where pen and paper
Meld together,
Sometimes just for foreplay
(With an excited promise for a future encounter),
Other times to create the most sensual love,
But always ending in rest, peace and enchantment.
The only time I feel true joy
Is when I hold a pen in my hand.
There is no flesh left for money;
Poverty is bestowed,
As readily as peace.
But yet I wouldn't give up
My twilight hours,
Listening to the silent electricity
Of the night of my mind and the dawn of my heart,
While only the pale light of my lamp
Keeps me company,
And my shadow has come to know me better than myself.

I discard the lab coat,
Shedding my old skin,
Whilst they stare mouths agape.
"You've convinced me" I say,
"Of my blatant insanity."
But it takes all types,
And my niche is tucked far away
Where I can't hurt any one...
Though you'd never gather it,
As they scatter like frenzied doe
To become their surrounds,
In hope to escape the beast of desire.
They don't understand me,
But I can't help it if
I have been teething all of my life.

Change

Our collective paper clip
Loosens its cold clasp,
Falls, clanging its toll...
Life flies chaotically,
Through the stormy winds
Of Change.

My rubber band
Stretches its confining embrace,
One too many times, snaps, recoils...
The past unravels the present,
Sets the future free,
To Change.

Premeditated Pretence

Premeditated pretence.
It's working out well.
Well actually
Acting
Is not your day job, and
Rightly so.
Seems to me that
You don't think
I can do mine either?
Should I be
Hurt, discouraged, fearful,
That you cannot bare the truth to me?
Premeditated pretence.
It's working out well.
Well actually
Acting
Is not my day job either, and
Rightly so, and
Seems to me that
You may have gathered
That I don't want to be here either?
Should you be
Hurt, discouraged, fearful,
That I cannot bare the truth to you?

Pretend to lie.
Time's deception am I?

September the 11th, 2001

I was lavishing my undivided attention to my computer,
Tormenting myself over an unfinished assignment,
That had become a matter of life or death,
For a Masters that had begun to fill my world to its brim.
My friend and I communicated on ICQ: 'life is hard'.
Then he relayed the news.
I believed him but yet I questioned him countless times, just in case,
Until I'd had the opportunity to believe myself,
And what exactly this meant to me,
Aside from what it meant,
To the people in New York,
Who had lost their loved ones,
Amongst the fallen glory.

It could have been night over there too,
In the valley of Ashes.
I thought about F. Scott Fitzgerald,
The American Dream that will not die.

Next door a child
Thought that he was watching another movie:
He was up late and there was much fire, screaming, crying, horror and special effects;
The chaos of the damned.
It was unreal.

A while ago Neil and I visited Melbourne,
And had ascended upon the tallest building in Australia.
We didn't climb to the sky as we couldn't justify financing greed,
But we looked at a replica
Of the world trade centre twin towers,
Because that much was free... in the land of the Westernised free.

On the day that my mum and I watched two towers fall,
at least fifty times,
I also heard that a small girl had received a transplant;
A life saved amongst
The unaccounted lives lost;
A miracle buried,
Beneath the depths of tragedy,
Surfaced too soon for some to comprehend
Why and Why Not?

It's two months on and I still can't believe it happened,
Yet, it has also changed my world;
That's how I know that the planes once existed,
That the bodies still lie waiting to be put to rest
Beyond the nightmares of Ground Zero.
Nothing looks the same.
Nothing feels the same.
We wander dreamlike
With chilled corpuscles
Circulating through a numbed body.
For the first time
Priorities are like rare gems,
Now that my Western existence
Has been challenged.
For we're now but
Freedom's exiled child.

Too Late for Sorry

A fat little black bird
Pecked wildly at
His succulent dinner,
Of over-ripe fruit
Fallen for the taking,
A worm-filled liqueur
At its heart.

From within the kitchen
The pot danced merrily,
Giving birth to its own delights:
The secret fragrances of a family recipe
Passed down the generations through life;
Made immortal through death.

A block away,
On a lonely square of turf,
In exhibition to more than one,
A plight far from secret
But also passed down through the generations:
Our Indigenous people who loved the land,
As their father, their child, their respected teacher —
(Negotiating the long red beards of course sand
They forged freedom,
Foraged with freedom,
With knowledge paving the paths
For legends, larger than life, beyond life,
Shared between forefather, elder and child) —
Haven't even had breakfast for three days,
Foraging instead for fallen perfect circles of scrap metal,
Coins to purchase unfamiliar grub
From a box, (it's making pillaged their oceans, plundered their trees) –
The same rubbish that was fed to the children
Of the stolen generation,
Whose innocence and freedom was exploited, raped and destroyed,
By white-man poison:
Christians, Catholics alike
Who blinded to justice, couldn't find God.
People almost like me, but not me, because
I'm sorry.

When Our Unsung Heroes Die

When our unsung heroes die,
Who will toll the mourning
Of perpetual night?
With all of my mustered might I shed one tear,
Each single day of every year,
When countless unknown faces pass on by.
Families cry with desperation
For their loss,
The unknown societal cost,
Of a kind and honest volunteer:
Someone without the need for accolades,
Someone without the need for admiration,
Someone with the largest of hearts.
To compensate for a voided bank balance,
To compensate for those ungracious fools,
To compensate for you too?

When the coffin is slung down low,
Who will return to leave those flowers with foresight of their time?
With all of my mustered might, I'm one of their kind.
I place my imaginary posies at their rest;
It's them who I admired and respected best.
Not the famous faces,
Not the posers in the paper, the egos on E-TV, the narcissist on the news,
Why do they forget so quickly?
None of them are my muse.
None of them are my inspiration.
Just the smiling face at the street corner,
Selling badges for a worthy cause.
Maralinga tainted his pretty face bounded up with gauze by day,
Biting his goodbyes as he hit the bitumen with shock,
The rock of the world weathered some more.
I'm floored for words to compensate
For this unheeded loss;
Challenge the greed to make note of the cost,
For they're falling by the hour.

Diary of Revenge

This is my book;
I purchased it at the down-town market,
From the lady in row ten who has the beady eyes;
An old snake
In glamour's disguise:
Decorated with goods and treats,
Her misty streets
Laden with enticing worth,
Giving lusty birth
To carelessness.
The siren lulls its most
Inevitable victim closest
To final intent.
Slay the innocent mind.
Did she know my kind?

Now and Then of Then and Now

Then
We'd talk about the boys we'd met and knew,
Parties we were going to,
Dances we were going to,
The clothes we were going to wear, or better still, buy,
And the boys we were destined to yet meet and know.

Never
Would we talk about the weather,
and what that meant for this week's washing,
How much our jobs sucked,
Bills we had to scrounge to pay,
The clothes we couldn't afford to replace,
And what we were going to cook our partners for dinner.

Like life
Bus rides were
Once an adventure
Not just routine.
I remember how one winter's day,
We boarded a bus that we knew
Circled metropolitan Adelaide —
(A trip that lasted almost two hours) —
Just because wagging school was fun,
Ultimately had no consequence, and
We wanted to see where life would take us.
There was nothing more exciting than the future;
The world looked infinitely promising through youthful eyes.
Only now we see, every now and then, of then and now
Now we know how life travels without cause for amends;
We know the bane of time's hard-earned consequence.

Unconquerable Days

Unconquerable days,
Reproachful ways.
A prism of colour
Emanates through your silken hair.
Pollen dust floats far from the scene
Of a trial,
The daisies cowering beneath
Your commanding body.
You're all that I ever sought to be
With and for,
If you were just someone
That you're not.
Buried deep in this green plastic flesh
Standing tall amongst the
White, yellow and the crystal
Prisms of your colder stare,
You know I'm forever with someone else
When I close my eyes to the light.

A Heart's Song

A heart's song,
Is strung with passion but rest,
Is sung with excitement but peace;
Is belief with out knowing the why and how,
Is pure trust with out consequence of path;
Is of caring for others, no matter of who,
Of forgiveness with out question of deserving;
Is of pure Truth, irrespective of the mind's trickery,
Of hope and life beyond Earth,
Is the inner child from Heaven,
From Jesus and the Father.

A heart's song
Can be hard to hear,
Easy to ignore,
Trivialised by academia.
But fear not, because its love will not give way;
A heart's song knows no bounds, no obstacles, no fear.

A Little Rubble

Fog curling like eyelashes,
Embracing the landscape's soul,
Spidery hands,
Blinding us,
Binding us as one,
In a confusing world.
Like the rocks beneath our feet,
This world is full of
The old, the new and
The recycled;
Some things seem impossible to leave behind, rehashed,
Becoming intermixed, inseparable with time.
Tears frozen against
The shock of burning cheeks,
Beacons seeking help.
Stumbling on the rocky shore,
Feeling only the soles of our feet,
Against the triangular Earth,
Groaning under every step,
Then giving away, surrendering to the burden of every footprint.
Can't look up for faith:
Our eyes are blinded to the sky
Can't look down away from faith:
Our eyes are blinded to the feet.
We can't walk forwards without faith:
Unsure of what our feet will find.
So we stumble forwards,
Not seeing but feeling,
Not knowing but believing.
Through this storm,
You're moving mountains for us,
And all we have to move,
Is a little rubble.

Accidental Anger

Tearing up the bitumen
with a vehicle fasted for years.
Wound up…
to grind this way and that,
then sky beneath feet.
Eyes encased in metal shards,
teardrops of glass falling all around,
and whispers of death to mask the sound
of sirens long into the night ...
And the next
And ever more.
The knock on an uninviting door,
echoing too many times through the recesses,
of a weary mind.
And will the pain ever leave
the good memories behind?
Delicate rose petal fragrance bound sweetly forever:
dried, crumpled and floated too easily away,
too young, too soon.
Major deviation from a should-have path,
with a wrong turn in a road of being ...
To leave a lonely forever aftermath,
with the lights ablated to yield
only black.
I'd give any thing
to have your radiant love and life back ...

I'd give anything to have my own, before-that-night life back.

All I Have

All I have to give You is my love,
For my body is broken,
My will is sometimes not so strong.
Though my soul is still hopeful,
I've been struggling with the world for so long.

All I have to give You is my love,
Though it is such a lot,
When it is my all;
I'll share with You, every thing of mine,
I give to You, every thing of mine,
For You mean that much to me.
I trust and honour You,
Lord I love You,
So truly and
So deeply.

Dissolved Courage

Sleepy eyes
(The tears she cries),
Swollen and red.
Choking instead,
Of breathing in calm,
Ignoring his residual charm,
Banishing his being;
She knows she should never again see him.
Where's the courage she needs
To carry out the good-bye forever deeds?

Excerpts from The Night

Can't see Wednesday for Friday,
Or dawn for the dusk;
The bridge for the water,
Or the beginning for the end of us.

You took me for a spiralling drive,
Back to the depths of 1985,
That's where I learnt to see,
The unreal me, regretfully.

Chugging through the lonely hills,
My gravy trains of tears,
Roaming through the misplaced nights,
My long forgotten ghosts of fears.

You took me for a spiralling drive,
Back to the depths of 1985,
That's where I learnt to see,
The unreal me, regretfully.

Froth and Spoil

Motorised bubble bath,
Keeping time.
Sometimes overflowing in frenzy,
To then surrender to renewed calm.
Very complex concerto of electromechanical mind:
Mathematical equations many, a must.
Programmed to comply.
We're very complex.
We dream of an equation and an accompanying solution;
But very little of our being is that comfortably predictable,
In rise and fall.
Yet, perhaps it's simply that,
There's more than Earthly energy
At license here,
In this human froth and spoil.

Love

Love is the pastor of our hearts,
Guiding our thoughts and actions,
Imparting our soul with hope,
Soothing our deepest pain,
Cleansing our most bitter sin
With the anointed soap
Of Jesus' spirit and God's word.

Love is the master of all joy
But can never be mastered to perfection,
Particularly with rush or haste,
But must nurtured carefully
With much compromise
And the Holy grace
Of Jesus' spirit and God's word.

Monopoly II

If only money were
As flimsy in weight and bearing
As its paper feel.
But game-bound currency
Specifies too easily
Morality's growing bankruptcy.
The sins of this age
Monopolise the world
Which in its suffocation and bondage
Is surely nearing closure. Yet
Your family could never find a means
To bail you out of debt.
Thank God, Jesus did.

Promised Home

Humming purple haze of skies
Churning with His coming;
Quivering blue sea of grasses
Dancing at His coming.
The glistening red promise
Showering faithful souls —
Arms out-stretched to the warmth,
A blanket of Truth,
And Love.
For in belief,
One size fits all;
Not one excluded
(Poor, sick, coloured).
Clouds of silver bright,
Shimmering a welcoming path for believers alone,
To a majestic land of bountiful peace;
Praise the coming of the promised home.

A Reckless Affair

Electricity of my anticipation,
Soil of my deliberation:
Shall I meet you again at the empty station?
Will I recognise your walk,
Or your familiar absent-minded stare?
Shall I look into your chocolate eyes,
To see the longing for me still there?
Shall we walk to my place,
Our wrongful deeds exposed only by the moon,
Trekking in silence, knowing,
That this fantasy may finish much too soon:

Will you leave your
Well-worn bags packed?
With your regular two changes
Of clothes neatly stacked,
Along with a reality
Weighted heavily against our dreams.
This well-oiled arrangement
Is coming apart at the seams;
It's existence tainted
With odds not in favour;
Yet dreams and fantasy
Too easy to saviour,
Especially when flesh
Is no longer
Forthcoming, kisses
Have no companion, and sombre
Touch meets
A random molecule of air.
You're just simply not here,
But there,
No matter how much I wish,
Beg, cry, deny -
I excel myself.
So I try
To imagine you
Miles and smiles away,
Giving birth to a darker,
Lonelier set of days.
Was I just a pass-over
In between rides?
An initially appealing idea
Soon tossed aside?
To then descend upon
A destination better known,
For an opportunity to rediscover the
Abandoned occupants of your home.
I've tired of feeling second rate,
So perpetually, invincibly alone.

So shall I again farewell you at the station?
Worlds apart, a complete cosmic departure
From togetherness.
Space junk lust, remnants lasting ever after:
Dreams, wondering regret, and
This time a budding third:
A new consequence of unbridled passion,
Yet I breathe not a word.
Will those small, innocent eyes gaze
Upon their other corresponding set?
Of a father lost,
Filled with an endless regret,
And now leaving
A former insatiable lover
Now a shattered,
Worrisome mother.

Contemplation Resolution

I.

Water rushing, warm but still frozen,
Satisfaction? Happiness? Of fantasy and fable?
Joyous memories? Only delivered as transient rewards of modern living,
A smile? Now barely able.
Rush and hurry.
The bother so busy and so much what for?
Floating transparently in a crowd of individuals lost in harmony to
The same tune, the same common flaw.
Lethargic… and weakening still, to the routine
‘Tick tock’ of ever hastening time.
Can't remember what of that ticking
Was ever claimed as mine.

Previously not soon enough, now too soon.
Satisfaction? The ‘NEVER’ increasingly nurtured…
The burden of reality that fantasy eases,
A mere consolation.
Pessimism teases,
Optimism frequently deserted…
Disconcerted.
Tell and accept more lies,
A collection with which to grow old.
Tripped outside amongst the living of non-human form,
Breeze stealthily rushed over and through skin so shallow, too cold…
Conscience dissolved, consciousness barely resolved.

II.

Captured by the ever enchanting glistening,
The stillness, the capacity for calmness,
Superimposed with the excitement of night.
Of romantic possibilities that remain sacred
Though recklessly exposed, glimpsed upon by other lovers
With forbidden passion held within their sights.
Breath withheld in awe,
Stars blinking back tears at my ever-smaller stature, in release.
Encapsulated by our blanketed security,
You become my source of only scrutiny,
My destiny.
Tied together by nature's law of planet spin time,
Left to wade through tides told by the moon,
And to wonder magically as shooting stars leave home,
So soon,
Deny monotony, and continue to roam…

Crazily as the fireflies buzz and glow,
Previously I’d wandered so
Now I wonder more of you and so
I presume to know.

The fire of an awakening soul arises,
Reclaiming lost time, forgiving former sins,
This is where the outward-radiated love,
Inside begins.

Trust to unveil my mind's soul
Dare to expose emotions for you, so sincere.
Celebrate the wanting of you here,
Of then, now… always near.
A time to dream,
Floating in bliss,
To wake up, still dreaming,
To the gift of your soft, ever-caring kiss

III.

Head lost, spinning in colourful gipsy land,
Hypnotised by the fiery eyes of intense passion and wisdom.
Barefoot walk the wild-flower-studded dirt trails,
Holding your hand,
To nowhere: further than most are headed right now.
High on living, giving, sharing, loving.
Fervently succumb to the explicitness of what has passed is Unquestionably done…
Tasting the essence of life's spirit… inhaling deeply to become
Free from the responsibilities of superficial achievement,
Void of unrealistic dreams to turn sour,
Emancipated… living day by day,
Hour by ever changing, unpredictable hour.

Discovery

Roller-coaster ride:
The thrilling chasms,
Drilling their twists and turns
Within my soul
Of fire;
My burning desire
For your full devotion.

Can you sail the oceans
Of my salt-saturated fears?
These depths in which I've drowned, and
Sank beyond dark despair
For too many long years.

Can you turn my world around
So that I'm not hanging on,
To the edge by a fractured fingertip of hope?
These severe angles of lost light,
Revealing the lost time that I've denied.

Can you calm the tsunamis
Of my most overwhelming pain?
These needs most met,
If you were to tame a sane shade of grey,
Bringing about a torrid end
To the black and white days.

Can you deliver to me
The peace of a baby's sleep,
Beneath her mother's powdery breast so sweet,
Where nothing else but love matters
Such security and warmth;
I long for that kind of rest.

More than the fossilised promises,
Of the stone cast past,
The hope has etched its sacred place,
Deep within my hollowed memory space.
I need for you to change my hour —
Discover my needy land of you;
I invite you now and ever more
To dock your war-torn, dream-laden ship
At its much anticipated, fertile shore.

Her Father the Man in the Moon

Her father the man in the moon,
Not intending to succumb to Earth any time soon:
Head in the clouds,
Always too proud;
Unconquerable, his love unreachable.
Stretch and strain to accommodate his whims,
Malleable daughter of the most promising kind;
Incompetence, failures, an unexpected find.
A mere mortal borne of
An infallible super-hero.
Home demon with the street angel disguise;
None of his fans have ears to hear her cries.
Entrapped by his persistent light,
Never resolving the truth,
Beating wings ceaselessly
In spiralling flight,
Upon his demand,
To fulfil
Every perilous command.

Man in the moon, will she ever see his face again?
She wonders of him, now and then.
Of how he has aged with lines carved from long tears —
The pain of lost daughter years?
The reality of facing denied fears,
In a world spinning recklessly beyond his control,
Of which he can only look down upon in shame,
Continue his misinformed commentary of everyone's wrongs,
Whilst he remains unworthy of blame?
Righteously deny her name.
With justification?
Of how they'd let you suffer?

And what of his evil provocation?
That sent his family fleeing by the cover of day,
Leaving behind only the tattered and lonely remains
Of his twisted mind games.
Now devoid of players,
Is he left perplexed?
Whose sights,
Whose dreams,
Whose soul,
Will he capture next?

I Implore You

Cold.
The palm leaves rustle with
The tell-tale breeze of storm.
The surrounds abide,
Waves a crashing splendour.
Sink and churn,
Scatter the sand with a forceful command
And a demand of more.
Pitter, patter, drench;
Rocket chunks, pelted with ice from despondent grey,
Delicately hued with the setting of another give way day,
Seeking to chill-burn the softest of delicate mortal skin.
But with you ever so warm,
With enough strength and courage to begin
To disarm the cannon bullets firing from above;
You calm the thunderous clang resounding in a weary mind,
Soothe the swollen skies and tear-soaked eyes.
Tormented cries
Diminished to yield to a whisper only of my love,
Tonight and ever more,
But never before:

I implore
You.

Leaving

And now it's all gone:
Packed up and shipped out,
Leaving only my memories
Behind and deathly still;
And now much too intact
For my liking.
In fact,
It took me by surprise,
To see you vanish my child-hood
In under several hours,
Before my suddenly very adult eyes —
Wrapping up all the good times securely,
And taping their caskets in place;
Discarding the bad times,
Along with the last day's rubbish and waste.
The air was humid and oppressive that day
When you took my family life away.
My tears were uplifted on a lonely current
Of otherwise empty air,
To follow my despair
As we departed from my only known home.
The precipitated salt fell defeated to the ground,
As a tear imprint in time, captured without protest:
A tiny mound so motionless, without sound, without mime,
To join those (only just realised as) etched years before mine.
And being driven away, against my will,
A prisoner of exposed adult façade,
I suddenly knew,  
That forever after, until death do us part cannot be,
For once three, now there were just two.

Little Broken Pieces

Little broken pieces
That he brushed away,
Little broken pieces
That should have stayed.
Violated;
Hidden for years,
Sealed securely with fears.
Although now it appears,
That you, my sweet, have taken some pleasure,
In applying a sticky but sweet concoction,
To the re-surfaced remnants of good.
Creating a permanent masterpiece,
A rare relic.
Now priceless,
All because you believed
In the first piece that you so valued,
To patch the hole in my deflated heart.

Moving

So many others
Pitied but then turned a blind eye,
Walked on by.
My troubles
Became your concern,
Yours mine in turn;
I've been forever true
With my respect and caring for you.
The years cannot brown the edges
Of a continually renewed
Twosome smile,
A little distance between us,
Cannot bring to a close a friendship
So special,
So worthwhile.

No Fixed Location

Lost and wandering,
Are you waiting
For a ride back home,
But not knowing the address?
For you've no fixed location,
No settlement in mind;
You'll always be running away,
Checking out, from stillness:
A too confronting find.

You own only wrong doings,
But we'll always have you back,
Along with your frowns to freeze the warmest sea,
Weary worry lines stretching like the latitudes far beyond me,
Across your global nomad head,
The plate tectonics etched and grinding in your mind.
Remember the words your wise mother said.
She spoke sensibility to grey the black and white,
That he screamed that night, and always,
Spitting and erupting his torrents of pain and spite.
He's now dead and buried
But you're still here … there,
Floating, dislocated.
Please come on home,
Where you belong;
You've been away from those who love you,
For far too many long years gone.

Lost and wandering,
Are you waiting
For a ride back home,
But not knowing the address?
For you've no fixed location,
No settlement in mind;
You'll always be running away,
Checking out, from stillness:
A too confronting find.

Puppeteer of Love

At six pm
Flesh abides
Inside his dreams,
Where life's seams
Suddenly seem to come apart
To reveal the soul,
Of his weary heart;
A long departure
From the mask,
Of the last puppeteer of love.
"If only he could tell thee
Of thy love foreseen"
He gestures to the crowd,
Their mouths agape with woe,
With empathy etched almost enviously,
For a lost boy they've come to know —
Talent he displays piously,
Rest he does not ever see,
Until the part has played mournfully out,
It's final slow count of misery.

At 9pm
The gipsy fire
Torments his dancing soul,
Beckoning the other circus folk in droves,
To collect his wanton toll;
They're now inebriated
"With the sweetest wine
Of thine":
All smiles and laughs,
Appliqued with the tears,
To follow his fears,
Through the final dark.

They tried to retrace his steps,
The puppeteer of love.
None could be found,
But ball and chain,
And broken link
Lying devastated,
On the shattered ground.

Packing his sackful belongings,
He surveyed his frightful remains:
The latest production,
A slave for the making,
An unwritten Shakespearean stage travesty for the taking;
He'd finally sought his latest muse,
Now it's in the breaking news —
His gain perfect theatre logic acclaim,
Though he's somewhat sorry for their loss.
The dawn does slowly accost,
The day betrays the pregnant night stay,
The silver moon in its lonesome carriage,
Whilst justice takes death to tiresome marriage.

All that remains of truth to find,
Is the revelation of inertia's child.

She's Like a Tornado

Unexpected, without warning,
She arrived at the heart
Of the yawning country city,
Storming precisely through
Comfortable family homes,
With a finely tuned compass at her access,
The sexiest smile flashed at duress,
Always plastered on her dial,
And those crazy legs
That ran a methodological mile,
Beneath a tighter fitting little black dress
Than was said to have been seen before.
She stroked up a storm,
In any man's groin.
Reckoning fiercely with his senses,
Ablating his half-hearted defences
For the monogamy display
She blew blow his better intentions
Far, far away.
With the wink of her eye
She sucked them deep into her being,
Consuming their entire world,
In less than one quick, sexy breath of time.
Held in her ravishing control
For a mere few seconds of destructive magic,
They meshed with her powerful need,
To only moments later be spat back out,
Rejected, discarded, dazed occupants of her
Personal junk-yard wasteland.
With her retreat their eyes first met
The devastating truth
Left by the passing of merciless wrath
The aftermath of a mere
Hundred or so collectively shattered egos.
And a town still counting
The irreparable damage
The ever amounting priceless cost
Of a family love carelessly traded
And now forever lost
To the once howling wind
Now much too quiet.
The rest is firmly set in shocking history,
Yet her eventual whereabouts
Remains, forever, a puzzling mystery.

The Humility of Family

Of years gone by I thought I’d found my way:
I worked so hard to achieve countless accolades,
Especially a father's love;
I disguised the real me with high distinctions,
Afraid to fail being ordinary and average.
Having lost every thing,
I realised what I had sacrificed for glory,
Realised how the novel of pure fiction had become
So much more romantic than the real story —
A history of compulsion,
Obsession through fear,
An unsuitable heritage
And one which I will undeniably pledge
To the past and specifically the ‘Never Never’.
Now content to be happy with my present standard lot,
The two of us so purposefully together —
I think I have finally found my inner peace,
A freedom from grief.
Loving me,
Loving you,
With enough love for three,
Or how ever many there may pass to be.

To Be With You

I never knew,
'Til I met you,
The tingle of tenderness,
Ebbing countlessly with every tick of time;
I never knew the sweetness,
That love, could be something of mine.
Yet I know fact from fairy tale,
And so few,
Share something like you and I:
Something so undeniably true.

I cannot ever express the magic,
The calmness of warmth that you breathe, or
The angel dust that you leave,
Beyond our times spent together;
The enlightenment, the reprieve,
From wandering alone, from wondering
If ever,
Never?

Dreams, enchantment, the spell that you weave,
With the simplicity but cherish of your touch,
Your words, your ways, you,
How best to tell you what you do, say and feel for me,
Means so much?

Fortification of feelings almost every day
Leaves me speechless, overwhelmed
With the feelings and thoughts you understand
Though I cannot say.
I embrace growing closer,
I am privileged to be a part of your current being,
I treasure every moment of truth and sharing,
I am eternally grateful, forever beyond the present,
For your special gift of caring.

True Friendship is not a Rocket Science

True friendship
Is not a rocket science,
Yet it knows no bounds
Travelling through time and space
To any place of need,
To comfort a broken heart
Or repay many a kind deed.
It doesn't require a doctorate,
You can even save your ABC's
As all it takes is just you and me.

There's no formula or rule
To recreate what we share,
No blue-print or treasure map,
Recipe or cunning trap,
To snare our cherished care.
It's the most simple means
To generate a blissful sigh or smile;
To keep you warm and safe
Across many a mile.
For all of this there is no cost,
No hardship nor any loss.
A priceless itinerary of memories
Which fill even the most lonesome times
With many years of joy and laughter, and
Faith that these will follow
With many treasured after.
 

Where Should I Go to Search for Love?

Where should I go to search for love?
Somewhere full of romantic dreams?
In the passionate heart of Italy,
Or some other exotic or lavish
Foreign city?
Or should I anchor far out to sea,
Away from suburban clutter?
Or far up the rockiest mountains
Where only the wild-life mutter
Indistinguishable news?
For long hours with me as their muse,
With my complex sorrow,
My yearning for a love-filled tomorrow,
That may never arise ...

How the path ahead lies,
I cannot know;
No matter where I go,
Love is no clearer.
And I can still hear the
Long-gone plaintiff cries,
Of your begging me to stay.
Perhaps these held some truth,
As being away,
Has only further let my mind play
Games with this confused heart of mine ...

And we both wonder,
As I wander more aimlessly,
When will I acknowledge that you are worthy of my love?
Or will I set myself free
From this commitment?
Bringing on yet another it's-not-you-but-me
Ending to something that could have otherwise been
Longer lasting.
And I swear by now I should have learnt,
That being burnt
Is less painful
Than being self-cheated.

Now I'm just back to life on a carousel,
A little of the up and down,
And mostly perpetually around and around.
Will I ever grow up,
To realise that although he stunted
My world,
It's still mine
And there's still my time ...

To search for my true love.

With You

With You,
The night dazzles with more sparkling splendour
as reflected in your eyes only for mine.
Electric skies resonate the dulcet tones of sweeter cherish
and a twosome private embrace,
even through the darkness's of time.
The birds chime longer and sweeter:
a symphony of grace, enriched with the tone of respect,
blended with sincerity,
as a commitment tribute to you so dear
and deepest within my heart,
and my mind calling silently at a note that only you can hear …
longing for your embrace.
The day burns with more calming warmth, sighing love, and
radiating promise,
at an intensity pitched so deep within my soul's heart;
an ever-expanding place set to start
being filled with more of you, for now and always.
Your love ebbs with frequency within and then it
flows freely and lucidly without,
seeps and saturates entirely,
completely,
within every crevice and otherwise hollow, empty part of me.
Now whole, even when at rest,
even when I fall asleep.

For even in my most wildest dreams,
It's you dear, who I meet.

(You Make It) All Worth the While

Paralleled, dazzling blind:
A mixture of man-made fire-fly glows,
And stars encasing,
A life-long journey.
Random lights flicker fast,
As drowsy eyelids,
Shield weary eyes
(That have long missed
What has whizzed on past).
Now only one destination in mind,
Knuckles white with sustained grip,
Embracing the wheel for countless miles,
Like yesterday and the day before,
And probably like tomorrow.
Possibly forever more,
Just running on your anticipated smiles;
Now driving in familiar sleep,
Worn sleepers bedding the ingrained tracks,
Corroding enthusiasm with time…
More real, day after day, week after week.
The usual charade,
Chaotic and even disturbing,
Stress and toil, turmoil,
All contributing to tease the soil
Of hopes and dreams.
The road back home only comforting in one respect,
The greater meaning — an eternal purpose sealed with vows.
Our family and their smiling faces, your grace and warm embrace,
Giving me a brief escapism, peace and cherish.
Beauty defined deep in my mind and soul,
So much love confined,
In these four walls we need to work to own.
Just enough inspiration mixed with motivation,
To board the morning ride,
Chimed by the boss money alarm,
Always too early, too soon, shattering your spell,
With the call of financial burden.
But for them the acceleration, the bump, the whirr, then grind,
The wind and then unwind and over again and again,
(I'm a yo-yo with frayed string, your loving hand to stroke my woes)
It's all worth the grime and escaped time;
Your cleansing love the most amazing, life changing find .