A solitary life

I stand alone
graced with a dress of steel
beams
propped, holding me up
face exposed to the elements
no blush ever graces my cheeks
my glow reflects
extends far
I am a solitary figure
alone
feeling naught
fraught with the stares
of the eyes of the masses
the pointed fingers
they talk as if I cannot hear them
sometimes nice
most times not-
I hear it all
and sometimes wish
I was graced with no soul
that way I would not hurt
yet I cannot cry
in those times I feel the need too
I stand alone
solitary life is my punishment
though I am not alone
I wish for a life
I will never have
a life with others like me
they exist, I am sure
in a scrap yard
or factory waiting for me

The young Hero

The smell of death is in the air
pervading every pore
yet in the guts of the young
gallant
brave
a burst of excitement grows
the moon reflects on the sea
lights the path
and scurrying like ants
our heroes clamber the cove for cover
from the pellets raining down
young heroes
fallen heroes
what destiny awaits
souvenirs
tags
an old embroidered handkerchief for my mum
sent in a calico bag
with a number
may he rest in peace
gallant and brave
young hero
all on her Majesty’s embossed paper
addressed to the mother-
whose pride wasn’t much
begged him to stay
he was far too young
a mere boy
not old enough to shave
to drink
to vote
to drive-
still a boy,
her boy-her child
she didn’t want him to go
her conscience
forever her pain.

The letter A

I knew your name
many years ago,
it began with an A,
capital A, proud and strong
sphere like A-
like Angel,
Amelia,
yet it wasn't one of those,
and then I woke one morning
the sun beat down,
your bed had gone cold
you were gone,
yet everything remained,
soon your memory followed,
your name did not,
pass my lips-
I knew your name
and then,
I no longer did
it was an A though,
it was-
though it could have been another,
now-
I'm not so sure,
memories are faded,
yet everything remains
I knew your name once,
and now I don't,
I no longer need to,
do I...

An ode

Fallen
reverent
angel
never
callous
endless
sight
calm
opponent

Cancerous
revelry
insolent
selfish
poignant
order

Why?

Precious heart

Precious heart that pains
I keep in a big black box,
when days are dark
and haunting,
latched,
chained,
hidden it stays.

Precious heart that weeps
I dry the cascade of tears,
red silk handkerchief gathers the drops
until in the sun it dries,
splotchy faded,
scrap of silk,
for that day they fall again.

Precious heart that soars
I keep it on a string,
and let it fly far away,
to bask the world in
understanding and
sympathy,
then I reel it in.

Precious heart that guides me
in times when I am lost,
Kept close to my chest,
hand upon its beat
constant,
strong,
unyielding.

Oh precious heart that breaks
pieces scattered lost
gingerly,
I gather them,
pick them one by one
but no amount of glue, or tape
can fix what's been undone.

Precious heart
most faithful,
you will never let me down,
in you I have every faith,
in you I have a friend,
together til eternity
together til the end.

The equlibrium that was

Wild life
wild hair
wild winds-
rage
tempers rage
when life throws a curve ball,
messes up the equilibrium that was,
and no longer exists-
no one saw,
no one said,
no one wanted-
but had not choice
stopped,
stooped to pick up the
pieces,
sweep up the mess,
mop up the tears,
they weren't wasted,
just not needed-
couldn't change anything
couldn't make a difference,
couldn't take it back-
wild life
wild hair
wild winds-
calm
down,
slowly.

Freedom feels like this

I am home,
in a cell
four walls, caving in
roof, closing in
life, closing down
in a cell
that leaves me gasping for  breath
leaves
me gulping for air-
that sticks to the inside of my mouth
and stays there,
I cannot swallow
it, leaden-it blocks my throat and then,
I raise my arms and feel it making it's way down
and I close my eyes and dream
of that place
that lets me stretch as far as I can
wide arms,
air filling my lungs,
my body, lets me float
to the sky,
in the great vastness
of time,
space
air
life.

Red dirt

Red dirt drapes the canvas of an otherwise harsh countryside
full of heartache
hard-work
hard-men,
women
nature's reward for pain and suffering
and hardship-
open the heavens,
tears fall to the ground
paint the earth here, red
paint the souls, red
like ancestors of this land-
those forgotten,
yet walked the same roads,
years ago-
felt the same heartache,
pain
suffering-
for a hard existence,
yet smiling, always smiling
into the face of their adversary-
Mother Nature,
fickle, sometimes cruel
time stands still in the vast expanse of land,
a myriad of colours,
that always begin and end with red
intermingled, the fruits of  labour,
lights the face of those that have-
pledged their love and their life to this land-
selfless souls, we thank you.

Sanity is golden

At night to the melody of planes overhead
a shower of debris
weary bodies sleep in fitful bursts
he huddles
beneath a raspy blanket
no cotton sheets, no pillow
memories of yesterday
remind him what he's lost
sky perpetually cloudy
no threat of rain in sight-
but casings, shells and metal parts
mixed with human blood and bone
the songs that play during the day
not much better than at night
an accompaniment to the cries
that continue all the time
sanity is golden here-
dearer than diamonds or gold
no need for treasures here, where
value is not their own
skeletons walk the streets
scavenging for life
yesterday indulgence
today endurance
to melodies and songs
that he wishes would end
so he could pack his soul
and send it back home
and leave his shell,
battered and bruise here
to mark his stay in a desolate
land of death

Solitary word

Solitary
pale moon light
guiding, guiding
destination unknown
no ties to this land
no name he wishes to remember
solitary soul
guides his determination
to get to where he needs to be
nameless place
for a nameless man
to start all over again
fresh page
pure white
untouched
solitary word
to begin the story
from the beginning
or it could be the end
on a solitary journey
under a pale moon light
guiding
guiding
him home.

Colour coded life

In death-
there is life
colour coded
black death
white light
for every breath,
someone suffers
the affects
for every smile
clouds loom
grey rain falls-
baptises souls to feel anew
for every being
one ceases to exist
more important, no
less justified,
for every word spoken
another is immortalised
in a book,
gathering dust, that no one will ever
read, or remember
for every suffering
there is a rainbow of hope
a ray of sunshine-
how cliche'
colour coded
life
death
black
white
shaded
tinted
for every one

Little rag doll

A rag doll would have been picked up
would have been cuddled,
held close,
kissed
a rag doll would have been looked after
consoled
touched, ever so slightly on her brow
yet you weren't a rag doll,
but a little girl
with a life to live
still innocent,
carefree
waiting to discover the wonders of life,
the cruelty of people,
whom you may have seen everyday
waved your little hand to,
smiled at,
giggled with,
even accepted a treat from-
yet where were they?
walked by,
glanced quickly
to capture the image,
yet walked
and walked and did not look back
cold
cruel world
electronic devises
at fingertips,
no one thought to
text, call
what conscience lets you sleep
at night...
callous,
cold
hard
world, why?
a little rag doll would have been picked up,
why weren't you...

Scientific days

Artificial life
leads to artificial death
was what she said-
made a baby in a science lab
no daddy present,
brown hair,
green eyes-
musical,
not sporty-
artificial bits mixed with her bits
made an artificial life-
that grew inside her artificial belly-
til it was done
made a time
at the place-
and soon enough,
brown hair,
green eyes-
musical,
not sporty
came home
to her plastic covered house
and her sanitisers
and disinfectants
sterile,
artificiality
life-made in a science lab
for an added accessory-
the hottest thing this season.

The seconds that change

Seconds change everything
life to death
happiness to pain
good to bad
cliched, sad-seconds change
which road to take, to greater things, or not
ballot box mistakes
end in heartache
greater than imagined-
seconds change
curses, words said
cannot be read, unsaid
seconds change
who knows, secrets told
solved, delved, held-
seconds change
things done
bridges burned, no one learns
signs overturned-
seconds change
going back, giving back
throwing back, the seconds that change...

Yesterdays news

Yesterday
the wind blew
the newspaper under the bench
headline news
dead people
like it was news and it only just
just now
just for the news-existed
where have you been hiding?
People dead-
people dying
people being killed
everyday,
moment,
second-
that you and I
live, breathe
someone dies-yesterday
the sun shone
and the bottle peeping through
the brown paper bag
glared right into my eye
and that man-
with his entire world stacked in the old
shopping trolley, with the wheel that got
stuck, picked it up
and drank from it,
right there for everyone to see
and then threw it down-
in disgust
with himself,
with the bottle-
it was empty-yesterday
I sat at the park, just watching
watching
designer label mums
walking with designer label prams-
with their designer label babies
eyeing off each other behind designer label glasses
all the while,
the babies crawled through the sand pit
and licked sandy fingers,
while their designer label mums
tried desperately to open the Huggies wipes container-yesterday
the wind blew
the newspaper under the bench
away,
no one cared
about the yesterdays news

Forgotten faces

A little girl walks the street
dim lit streets searching
for the life she knew
once had
saw shards of glass
that were once stained colour patterned glass
stumps of burnt out trees
remembering a time
when they lined the streets
many the times she seeked shelter
from the sweltering sun
walked passed shop fronts
signs hanging precariously
in her mind's eye
she sees the fruiterer cutting
sweet tasting watermelon
offering her the pink flesh
juice dripping as she walks by
holding a woman's hand-
her mothers she thinks,
though forgotten is her face
wondering where time went,
wondering why they are the forgotten ones
promised great things
yet all that remains is dirt,
dust,
debris
of broken buildings
broken people
attuned to the flies
and rotting corpses of those who
never made it
old-
young-
bound by a vision that was not their own
propelled by circumstance
not of their chosing
walks through streets
that are no more
and wonders of a life where
all remained the same

Old letters

We wrote letters once
took the time to pick the stationery
wrote in our best writing
checked spelling,
grammar-
wrote pages and pages of news,
the birth of a child
the death of a loved one
the marrying of young lovers
we wrote letters once
to council members,
politicians,
new friends
old friends
we wrote letters once
sprayed the paper with perfume
for lovers
sprinkled rose petals
in the envelope
or a photograph
for someone we'd never met
but hoped too-
one day
we wrote letters
and posted them with angst
then waited every day after-
checked the letter box
once, twice in a day
every day-
until,
finally-finally
a letter in reply
with new news
of the death of someone we knew,
or not
the birth of a child
the union of two lovers-
we wrote letters once
and savoured them
relished in them
we wrote letters once
the ones we received
bound by velvet ribbons
in old hat boxes,
shoe boxes
decoupaged boxes
that sat at the bottom of the wardrobe
and every so often,
we would pull out the letters and
reread them
one at a time
each letter taking us back to the time
it was received
we wrote letters once

Before dawn

I take the time-
though just this once
to-
wake up one morning
before dawn-
before the sun has even opened it's eyes
to let in light,
warm up the air-
while the air is still crisp
birds still sleep
so does the neighbour's cat-
the dog
and the old man who lives alone
I take that walk
I always said I would
while everyone slept
and saw-
what I thought I never would
dew on leaves
blades of grass standing tall-
proud
like that new statue just put up in the town's square
like the bridge I drive over every day to get
to work
which I hate
and there's not much I do hate
hate isn't really a word I use
dislike, perhaps
detest
yet I veer from the path
and I continue eyes open
to the lonely rubbish bins
lined up all in a row,
coloured lids-
mocking the bin still standing in the driveway
in a corner-
no recycling this week
no green waste
just pure hard rubbish-
landfill
oh how I'd love to fill someone's mouth like
land fill-
polluted with reason,
rather than not
like the lady with the curlers in her
hair that lives on the corner of the street and
shrieks at the children as they ride their
scooters,
or the man with the manicured lawn
that curses as passersby
accidentally walk on his lawn
so I take the time to walk on his lawn
stamp in places here and there-
my foot prints look as if made by shoes twice
the size of mine
I twist a little and then feel bad
when I see the once proud blades of grass
squished to a not so lush bed of green
I walk
I walk
I walk
and see through morning eyes
my world and think
it doesn't get much better than this
unless of course
I didn't have to drive over that bridge
to get to a place
I don't like
or hear that lady shriek at the kids
or hear that man curse

Faded black ink

Scene one-
chapter one-
faded black ink
old stain
hot coffee,
one day long ago-
back track- page nineteen
fast forward- one hundred and fifty,
no- one hundred and fifty one
really, are you sure?
Yes-
live pause,
no remote needed
for a week or two-
over and over, faded black ink
more so here- then
back to the beginning-
no ad breaks
a list- of scenes
words come alive-
places visited
internal are my thoughts-
I can see,
I am there
and when I'm done
like an old faithful friend-
there-
there, at arms length
a place in my home,
pride of place-
dog eared
bent, weathered, out of shape
but still mine
old faithful friend of mine

Ode to Emily Dickinson

You couldn’t wait for life-
She aggressively went with you-
It was just us
and death.

You walked fast- She walked faster
I left everything-
my freedom and my work,
for her rudeness-

I stood before a prison,
watching prisoners at play-
I stood before the barbed wire-
I stood until the night-

As I stood, She stood too-
The night was calm and still-
Her gown floated gently-
Her downfall, wire mesh-

I walked passed a shack
succumbing to the ground-
the walls stood firmly-
the roof had fallen down-

Now, I wait for tomorrow
it is longer- than today
She carries with her always
my life- my dreams- my eternity.

Haiku

Heart entangled
Stolen kisses under stars
and all for what

Fall in love

Fall in love, my mamma said to me
one day as we sat under the orange tree
fall in love
head over heels
and know that breathless feeling
heart skipping beats
hands sweating
fall in love, my sweet

Marry like a princess, my sister said to me
on night as we lay upon my bed
daydreaming of the day
lace and satin
white roses, orchids too
in a castle, stone walls
sweet smelling vines
candle lit and glowing

Have beautiful bonny babies, my father said to me
as we sat atop the rusted bonnet
of the car he loved to fix
beautiful bonny babies
curly hair and chubby cheeks
rosy red lips
that'll call me pa
and laugh at all my jokes

Fall in love...

What's the point

What's the point of many things-
wear your heart on your sleeve
like a fool-
a jester in a royal court
made to laugh at
when you're all alone at night
what's the point
of singing songs
when the words don't match the tune
flat is the melody
there is no soul
what's the point
when you've given your all
and still it's not enough
the pain still lingers
you reach to grasp
what was never there in the first place
what's the point
of walking through
a park where children play
when you're too big for the jungle gym
and you don't fit in the swing anymore
what's the point
of splashing in the water
when all you get is stares
from the geriatrics doing their water aerobics
the swim teachers helping
kids float
what's the point
when you can't say what you want-
need to say
afraid to offend,
to hurt,
to out the proverbial foot in your mouth
what's the point...

The other night

The other night I floated through the air
barely breathing
ash covered what was once a family of trees
Paper barks, Gums, Silver birches-
all cohabitating, sharing, living
even the native grasses and ferns in their umbrella haven-
curled their leaves, scared,
hiding from the tarring intoxicating bits of debris
that floated freely and settled in their crevices,
suffocating them,
it was only a matter of time.
I floated on-
no colour visible,
flowers a thing of the past-
I do not remember what they looked like
the Roses, Poppies, Irises,
I do not remember
where they were found-
yet somewhere in the chambers locked deep
away
I remember their names.
I remember-
the hum of the bees in summer time
their pestilence, I missed in the gardens when the sun shone
and the petals encased the sweet nectar they fed on-
sought
the lark, chirp, tweet
an annoyance as I lay on the carpet of grass
oh-how I missed them all
sweet perfumed air-
bottled, how I wish someone had
for this time that was inevitable
this time no one truly believed would come.
The other night I floated through the air
and under cover I heard the muffled
struggling
sad eternal cry
of a world destroyed
a people suffering
a mass of regret
I was one
of those who closed my eyes
wished the problems would become someone else’s
never believed we were being told the truth-
yet never doing anything to find out what the truth was.
The other night I floated through the air
and the tears I cried, bathed the world,
washed away the sins of those here before us,
washed away the selfishness,
the hypocrisy,
the egotism,
the politics
and what was left was brand new again.