Never Forget

I remember those gone
and a serenity fills me,
all the things that I am thankful they no longer see
or suffer through,
spill tears over
lose sleep
long nights,
shaky hands,
and shakier hearts...
I remember those who've found a new way,
thankful that they have,
sometimes wishing I could close my eyes
and rest
no longer;
seeing
hearing
hurting
being...
I remember those gone
slow
silent
solitary tears make a path down my chin
to my heart...
I remember those gone,
I smile
a happier time
a very
long
long time ago
when things were simple
and life was pure

L.O.V.E

There's a word
my word
means love
hope
death
sadness
happiness
not a long word
nor a short
you wouldn't think twice about it
you wouldn't
there's a feeling that I get
when I use my word
when it makes people smile
then laugh
you don't get it
you won't get it
until you find your own,
try it.

Cronulla Boarders

A sprinkling of sleek black specks
heads bobbing
wetsuits dripping
waiting
in the distance, waves gather momentum...
rolling
one paddler, 'mine!'
arms dip, rotating, faster, faster
hero kingdom, this will be the one
notoriety and respect
all for the underdog,
caught-
head bobs, gasps,
cord loose
board free
voices carry out, 'head's up!'
'you got this...'
'you.got.this...'

Synthetic Life

It's bright
sepia print
old fashion,
retro they're calling it now
the vintage look, all the rage-
my sunglasses on
I'm just like one of them,
synthetic music streaming,
strumming my fingers
not in tune,
in silent frustration,
singing-squealing about love,
lust
and a cheap one night stand,
hmmm, really...
about hardship
struggle
and a will to survive,
while daddy's bank account never runs dry
and school's not a necessity
or a need
or even a small vested thought
future's mapped out,
now's for the living
the moment,
'you owe me...'
of course, cause the world owes me too...

These are our Tears

We live in a world of chauvinists
egotists
and selfish mad-men and women
of raw beauty
passion
endless wonders
too blind to see

We love in a world with less hope for tomorrow
more single
mixed
abandoned
children wishing-
yet totally despondent

We wish in a world
of yesterday
stuck in a black and white rerun
of something that existed
or maybe didn't
tangible, accessible
but lost

We want in a world
of disposable dreams
of fads too numerous to mention
to meaningless to remember
to cheap to hold onto
yet expensive enough
to exploit

We die in a world
that mourns our loss
complete with token tears,
for a predetermined period
then forgets
who we were
what we were

Time to change the cycle.

Terra Firma

Behind eyes that see nothing
you hide
use the guise of someone else
to dictate your beliefs
then silently justify them as your own
over and over again-
it won't change
won't make it right
it'll still be a used thought
instead take note of the little things
that make your heart beat that little faster
hands sweat
brow furrow
tongue stick thick to the roof of your mouth
cast aside the cape of translucency
and stand firm
on your own feet-
terra firma

This Journey

I'm thinking quietly
there's nothing in this noise
I couldn't ask for
places I've been
they're not calling out to me
this isn't where I should be

We've carried nights
it's not up to us to not know
weightless, there isn't anything left
we don't find ourselves—
on the street,

On a journey
the morning sun
on our back,
in our eyes—
dreams,
crumble

As we walk in
with questions,
no doubts
in the dark
nothing's clear,
our night
stand for who we once were
we're not ready, nor young,
everything to fear
but we will survive

In Leather, Words Bound

The lovers of yesterday will remember,
the sonnets,
the words chosen carefully,
select
deliciously sensual,
the lovers of yesterday...

The lovers of yesterday will remember the look in his eyes,
her eyes,
glazed,
full of desire,
skin sweaty,
sensitive,
wanting,
yearning,
the lovers,

know passion,
seek it
want it,
live for it,
it's written in history
in leather bound volumes
on parchment—discoloured
aged
delicate,
the lovers of yesterday

Oh, if only to be born yesterday...

Foolish Love

If I knew that today would be the last time that I would see you,

I would hug you tight,

pray, the Lord, be the keeper of your soul.

If I knew that this would be the last time that I would see you pass through this door,

I would embrace you, 

kiss you—

call you back.

If I knew that this would be the last time that I would hear your voice,

I would take a hold of each word and store it,

pull them out one by one, and listen to them over again...

If I knew, 

If I knew, I would tell you that I love you,

Shout it for the world to hear,

If I knew, 

I wouldn't take you for granted.

I'd want you to know—

foolish love,

If, I knew.

A Ride to Nowhere

Come, she said
on a trip that will astound you,
I'll make it worth your while, she said
Why...
What need have I for a trip?
What need have I for something I do not need,
nor have I asked for?
Why? Why, not? She reiterated.
Life is like this,
Like what?
Surprising, surmising, fantastical and whimsical, she said
I no not what you speak, I said,
these things mean nothing to me.
My life is perfect, just as it is.
Ah, the life of the non believers, the rule followers, the dare I say it, sticklers...
a cackle loud and piercing,
Look here, I said, I have said, no thank you, I've been polite, what more do you want of me?
Time.
Tick tock,
time,
tomorrow, there will be no time,
What ever do you say? I don't understand your hog wash, babble, incoherent, nonsense...
Dear Sir,
I'm sorry,
Sorry?
I am, for you,
you'll never understand—
this I now see.

Stories told

I write in my native tongue,
the language of my ancestors,
I re tell the stories passed down to me,
stories fantastical,
mythological,
too unreal to be logical,
but too logical to be unreal
I speak in words that were spoken to me,
when I was too young to understand their meaning,
meaning to understand when I was young,
and remember when I got older,
and I think I did-
I sing songs that I don't remember the words to,
to the offspring of those who came after me,
after all my own are too old for such things,
I write words in my native tongue,
lest I forget from where I came,
so the words will be there,
long after I am  not.

On this Day

And on the day they will come for me,
they'll remember the heavens opened and drowned their souls
trying in
vain to purify the rotten heart that beats within them,
they'll remember the sky darkened before it's time,
into a colour no artist had ever seen,
would see ever again
the howls that escaped from deep throats wild with pain,
anger
and a cowardliness that only comes after the fact
regretfully,
or not,
they would remember,
they would,
for time has a habit of holding on-
history has a habit of being relived
and mistakes of those who came before us
are repaid by those who are yet to come,
on the day they come for me

Don't be afraid

If you take all the bad in the world
bundle it up into one hazardous waste to humanity,
don't be afraid,
don't...
then stand back and take stock of all the other things,
it's amazing what you'll see-
beneath weeds,
sprays of violets,
daisies and wild irises
flocks of feathered friends calling for family,
come,
eat, is there anything better than this...
trees green, uplifting arms to catch the warmth on budding leaves,
smell the air,
smell it-
children screaming without inhibition,
in the streets,
parks,
in packs too large to count-
envious adults standing close, arms twitching,
mouths moving silently
wanting to break out in song,
the elderly tapping their feet to tunes only they can hear,
or smiling to voices of yesterday,
blue skies,
stretching as far as the eye can see,
and then some,
clarity
serenity
peace-
freedom,
don't be afraid,
don't.

How to

It reveals itself to me in small fragments,
mine is not to question,
but to piece together the whole body—
segmented and nonsensical
disjointed, 
I make mistakes
I wait,
patience has never been one of my strong traits,
sometimes— 
for days,
for weeks
the pieces delude me,
hover around me,
taunting me,
will there be an end,
and then,
when all is still
silence blankets my world,
my mind,
the pieces come together,
the body is whole
and the mind can rest

Sometime, Tomorrow

Sometime,
tomorrow,
I will ride the wave of my life.
I will be the success of successes
I will do great things—
tomorrow.

I will fly planes, across lands undiscovered,
heal the sick
and create world peace,
tomorrow.

I will write a literary great,
have scholars—digress,
regress,
possess
my words,
tomorrow.

I will—
define the secrets of the world,
the righteous paths that lead to forever,
define everlasting life to the dying
gratify the souls of the damaged,
the lost,
the forgotten.

I will,
tomorrow.

A little Girl's Footsteps

A little girl's footsteps,
lead to nowhere.
She was here,
she was,
was she?
Where do they lead,
but to nowhere,
nowhere discernable.
I saw her,
dressed in a green dress,
ankle socks,
and little black shoes,
ringlets as gold and as shiny as the sun,
rosy cheeks
and a smile wide,
skipping,
heard her laughter carry through the air,
alone she was,
but she didn't seem to mind,
I saw her I did,
I did see her,
skipping
and laughing—
alone,
so where did she go,
this little girl,
her footsteps—
footsteps,
there,
lead,
lead, to nowhere.

Diminished Light

Oh!
My diminished light,
what has become of you?
I started off with great intentions,
big plans and the need for success
and what followed—
pure misery.

Where did I go wrong?
Oh, light of lights
that you should distinguish at that most crucial moment
that you should leave me blind,
not just in the dark,
but with a darkened heart
and soul that left me to find refuge somewhere else.

What happened?
I do not know,
did not know,
could not understand why...
still do not.

Oh!
I am rendered helpless,
hopeless,
a failure—
lead me again,
show me something,
anything,
before it is too late.

Life in the Green

A seed thrown

seeking life,

blade of grass,

seeks sun,

water to grow,

hungry,

yearning

almost abandoned,

a fighter

against the troops that

threaten it,

invading

suffocating

determined blades

spread their arms wide,

the war is lost,

but ever brief,

this is history,

a multitude of green shape leaves,

the sun teases,

teases,

overnight a green carpet

some soft,

some prickly,

I lay myself down,

enwrap me,

let me become

from a seed,

nature’s life

I am a pawn

Improvisation keeps me alive
drowning otherwise in your everyday
no one hears my distress call—
why should they
flares splutter
anti climactic
and I'm still pigeon holed because you say so—
ah,
what a disgrace,
what have I become
a nothing in a nothing world
where gamblers
and junkies
and hooded men
rule kingdoms bigger than what King Arthur ever did
naive sufferings
this is the now
and I am a pawn
dictators
and motivators
and self help gurus,
you have nothing on me
I will fade to waste
in a world that
just
does
not
care anymore,
did it ever
I don't think so

Predetermined Destiny

He was a damaged man,
they all spoke in whispers
sometimes loud enough for him to hear
that he was the forgotten one
she'd left him you see,
but you couldn't blame her,
not really—
just look at him,
they'd say,
could you blame her?
He was a damaged man,
a simple man
he could not add
could not dress
how could one expect a woman to stand by his side
what could he offer her?
He was a damaged man,
it wasn't his fault
not really
you only had to remember his mother
his father—
though many chose to forget that beast of a man
who used her like a punching bag
battered black and blue,
just
before
he
was
born—
ah, it all makes sense really,
he never had a chance
he was always a damaged man
it was his predetermined destiny
how was he ever to survive...