Death is the road
less travelled
till it becomes
the journey
we all share
I am holding your fingers
up to the sun
trying to see truth
through the skin.
I am holding your truth
against my skin
trying to see
where we might
turn away
from the rumpled one way ticket
clutched in your sweet hand
The pendulum
on the clock
refuses to move
still time
still momentary clarity
stillness
in the unsound
we make in our lives
I caught you
surreptitiously
eating farewells
on the stairs
and asked for a slice
We share
burgeoning mortality
from differing dimensions
pushing against
the membrane between and within
never breaking through
but seeing
just the blurred definition
where once
we were so clear.
Elation
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Thursday, April 09, 2015
Waking
The numbing taste
of disassociation
from
light
contact
connection
How we dance
through and between
the dappled dying rays
of Autumns promised
cool kiss.
You breath the song of fading
melancholic clear notes
to catch and cling to my skin
then gently
sink deep within
"Take ownership"
you said
tucking my collection
of deaths and disasters
into my top pocket.
Watching the stars fall
waiting for the sound
while you bustle
and fill your time
to avoid thinking too much
about what I might do
of disassociation
from
light
contact
connection
How we dance
through and between
the dappled dying rays
of Autumns promised
cool kiss.
You breath the song of fading
melancholic clear notes
to catch and cling to my skin
then gently
sink deep within
"Take ownership"
you said
tucking my collection
of deaths and disasters
into my top pocket.
Watching the stars fall
waiting for the sound
while you bustle
and fill your time
to avoid thinking too much
about what I might do
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Belief
God is a delusion
a sweet confusion
created by men
alone in dark places
to bring comfort
when the faces
they see in their dreams
belong to strangers
I have no belief system
anymore
All the building blocks remain
I can reach out
and touch
the rough texture
of my existence
But they are lifeless things
stained and worn
stinging the thick skin
of my fingers
I pray for
blood trails in sky
an excuse or
reason
to remove my eyes
and placed them on a lonely
country road
waiting for cars
waiting for stars to explode
Waiting for the redemption
I was once promised by
the caress of all
who loved me.
We are strands
running fast through the hands
of time
colours deep and worn
born at the dawn
each thread
a story torn from eternity
We scream our relevance
to the indifference of
alive
What you are
I aspire to be
what I am
you still cannot see
or believe
Time is a thief of hope
coiling us into forgotton
bundles at its feet
And no one told me
I would thrive or survive
that was my mistaken truth
my aching brutish mantra
to cling to
I know
you are waiting for me to release
I know
brittle is my name
and the sun is wane
on my skin
Naked in the distilled waters
of my unraveling
there is a calm
to the cold
a balm
in holding on
a sweet confusion
created by men
alone in dark places
to bring comfort
when the faces
they see in their dreams
belong to strangers
I have no belief system
anymore
All the building blocks remain
I can reach out
and touch
the rough texture
of my existence
But they are lifeless things
stained and worn
stinging the thick skin
of my fingers
I pray for
blood trails in sky
an excuse or
reason
to remove my eyes
and placed them on a lonely
country road
waiting for cars
waiting for stars to explode
Waiting for the redemption
I was once promised by
the caress of all
who loved me.
We are strands
running fast through the hands
of time
colours deep and worn
born at the dawn
each thread
a story torn from eternity
We scream our relevance
to the indifference of
alive
What you are
I aspire to be
what I am
you still cannot see
or believe
Time is a thief of hope
coiling us into forgotton
bundles at its feet
And no one told me
I would thrive or survive
that was my mistaken truth
my aching brutish mantra
to cling to
I know
you are waiting for me to release
I know
brittle is my name
and the sun is wane
on my skin
Naked in the distilled waters
of my unraveling
there is a calm
to the cold
a balm
in holding on
Monday, June 03, 2013
I cannot hold you
anymore
would you have me
embrace the tears you bring?
Planted so many years ago
in good soil
where the sun would always shine
where the rains would bring life
where the wind would not bend or break
I cannot look at you
anymore
would you have my eyes
fall on barren ground?
The leaves were thick and lush
the trunk
strong and sure
to bloom each year
a dazzling array
a splash of colour
a scent to bring summers
and spring
I cannot speak to you
anymore
would you have my words
turn from truth to lies?
Pressing my fingers into the bark
push through the rot
and spotted bleak bleached limbs
crushing dead leaves under foot
A bone of memory
pale in the morning suns
weak light
We gave a promise
to nurture
so long ago
to feed and nourish
to protect and care
But we could not know
the blight
that comes in a moment
that steals the life
the beauty we thought eternal
We could not fight
the unseen
Too late
I will always whisper
too late
Now I am left to
scatter thoughts
onto the cold air
and leave them
hanging there.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
I bruised my knuckles
on Melbourne's dourer sky
Heavy tread
we are almost there you said
but the grim pavement
whispers
still a ways to wander
little lost souls
still days to plunder
with a dazzling smile
like the rasp of the nail file
across my skin
The tram lines
carve Collins street in twain
look closely
you can just barely
see the blood stain
a dull crust
on the polished metal railing
Someone asks me for money
but politely
not like France
where they will stab you
given half a chance
Here they beg
with embarrassed eyes
and the dirty hands
shake just a little
as if accepting the money
makes them
less than a beggar
How can one be
less than a beggar?
He spins and curls back into the throng
roaming aimless along Swanston
lost in the myriad
We never arrive
we never even
assumed we would
the blood wells
from my hands
and you kiss them
the copper tart
on your lips
on Melbourne's dourer sky
Heavy tread
we are almost there you said
but the grim pavement
whispers
still a ways to wander
little lost souls
still days to plunder
with a dazzling smile
like the rasp of the nail file
across my skin
The tram lines
carve Collins street in twain
look closely
you can just barely
see the blood stain
a dull crust
on the polished metal railing
Someone asks me for money
but politely
not like France
where they will stab you
given half a chance
Here they beg
with embarrassed eyes
and the dirty hands
shake just a little
as if accepting the money
makes them
less than a beggar
How can one be
less than a beggar?
He spins and curls back into the throng
roaming aimless along Swanston
lost in the myriad
We never arrive
we never even
assumed we would
the blood wells
from my hands
and you kiss them
the copper tart
on your lips
Monday, February 25, 2013
Wind swept hearts
Silhouettes
on a vast empty life-scape
pin points of deepest black
sun stealing
light eating
ever unfulfilled
I was soaring through Flinders Lane
drinking down the rain
and a dying mans painful
memories of how he was
and why he never will be
again.
You have not called me
my beautiful boy
for so long now
the post it notes of yesterdays
are pasted
peeling
and falling up onto the ceiling
Morning flutters
in the stiffening breeze
of times current
a thermal of
cannot stop
carrying us upwards
into the glare
into the future
that wasn't there ten years ago
Silhouettes
on a busy downtown street
cut
scattered and dissipated by
a thousand voices
bursting us asunder
leaving our protestations
swallowed in the thunder
of another pointless
feckless task
ever unrealized
I was crawling along Burke Street
awash in the crowd
swept along with humanity
as we lurch into the next
phase
the sunset days
we knew would come
but kept running from
non the less
You cannot fill
my beautiful boy
no matter how hard you try
pouring days and scented wine
down my throat
pressing kisses to my cheek
and washing my feet clean
the post it notes of
tomorrow
unwritten
unwilling
evening hangs
heavy in the still
as time stands
and waits for us
then
leaves us behind
Windswept hearts
and a sense of passing
the only things
left
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The coming Storm
His beasts
gather
slavering
crowding round for the final
dance
The air in the Austin
is subdued
pressed down by the weight of
pale ghosts
that float above the beds on the ward
Air conditioner hums
dimpling the skin
through thin gowns
that cover nothing
but expose
the bruised flesh
the naked helplessness
the embarrassed whispers
of bodies
bloated with disease
necks puffed up
groins lumpy and distended
Nurses waft by
fluff pillows
log stats
moving amongst the visitors
with careful concern
His beasts
wait
impatient gaping maws
drool pooling on the scrubbed floors
claws clacking as they circle
The specialist
appears , thin arms and
gawkish hair askew
murmurs words
bone biopsy
elevated cells
chemo
all falls
pattering
a death rain
upon his tired patient
He offers hope where none resides
offers platitudes
to cover his inability
to cure
promises to return
and fades into the pale walls once more
His beasts
sense submission
resistance falters
one hand dangles down
to be licked and tasted
The monitors
buzz
one word
blinking red neon
against the eyes of the gathered
soon
gather
slavering
crowding round for the final
dance
The air in the Austin
is subdued
pressed down by the weight of
pale ghosts
that float above the beds on the ward
Air conditioner hums
dimpling the skin
through thin gowns
that cover nothing
but expose
the bruised flesh
the naked helplessness
the embarrassed whispers
of bodies
bloated with disease
necks puffed up
groins lumpy and distended
Nurses waft by
fluff pillows
log stats
moving amongst the visitors
with careful concern
His beasts
wait
impatient gaping maws
drool pooling on the scrubbed floors
claws clacking as they circle
The specialist
appears , thin arms and
gawkish hair askew
murmurs words
bone biopsy
elevated cells
chemo
all falls
pattering
a death rain
upon his tired patient
He offers hope where none resides
offers platitudes
to cover his inability
to cure
promises to return
and fades into the pale walls once more
His beasts
sense submission
resistance falters
one hand dangles down
to be licked and tasted
The monitors
buzz
one word
blinking red neon
against the eyes of the gathered
soon
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