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.

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

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

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.

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

 





 

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 

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 

Sunset Song

The days of sunset songs
we thought
were
long past

the splash of late afternoon
dappling your skin 
in rust shadows 
a stripe of light
running tall fingers
dipped in dust motes
upon your breast  

You speak

portals open
alternative universes
loom 
starscapes beckon
and seduce
in searing
blazing
star death
in boiling suns
and reverent hommage
to utterance
 

I fall
into your voice
a seeker 
a believer
a truth you never released
never gave up on
or sold out 
to the soulless ones

A vibration 
strumming upon
your tongue 
playing the sunset song 
in all its dreadful aching 
desperate perfection 
and I
the echo
the memory of sound
barely heard
whispering  

me
to you













 

 

Time or not

Time wanders in drunken circles

aimless rotations


The simple mercy of silence
 fails to materialize in
 its weaving wake

We gather sadness
in ever growing
hastily scrawled pages 

the ink barely dry on one
before the next story writes itself
upon us
a flow of disasters and out cast souls

hope and youth
stolen and ripped into shreds of
shocked realization

There are no happy endings
only delays to inevitable
corruption and decay

We are following time
as it staggers into the wall
muttering to itself
leaning against the roughened stone
for support

I would offer it my arm
my patience
and good will
if I thought it would not turn on me
as well

But I know better,
if I stay hidden
shadow its meandering steps
close

but not seen

it will not take me yet

Seeking surcease

Hope is a broken toy on an unmown lawn

Weeds and unmet needs growing through
in twisting accusations
and a face turned away from the truth

I can hear Jen
on the phone from London
her smile
ragged and edged
with regrets
the delay
here to stay

I am
filled with sand
the weight
drawing us down
into the soft grey embrace
of an empty sea

You brought
waves
and white caps

you brought
dried sea shells
and the waters song

The hum of errosion
lapping at my fingers
filling hands with
salt stained seclusion's

Tonight i will dine
on mixed metaphors
and upended imagery

profer it to you
in all its disturbed
irrational disfunction

drink deep of my
my minds last distant
distilled weaving

for I am leaving


no legacy

Vice-Versa #9 @ Poets United

And you never said
nor offered

anything
other than
farewell

The impression of your body
lies sleeping beside me
no warmth or skin
for me to see
simply the
sound of your whispered

follow

And I did
through gray Sundays
scattered
broken
and upended
on the porch

Through scorched
mornings
where the burning
embers of your absence
crested the sunrise
to streak across a discolored sky

There was nothing tangible
no tactile sensation
to lead me to you

Yet
there you are

a suggestion
of who we once were

that unusual couple
as Ray and Jen once called us
with a giggle and a glass of Sav Blanc

Rare gems
glimmering in the diffused
light of late afternoon
slanting beams of each other
carving the porch into
latticed designs
of here now

and gone tomorrow

Connections

A lover

I never had

came to me recently

carried on the vagaries of the internet
she drifted against my picture
and stopped to speak

I do not recognize you
she said

either do I 
 I replied

Then she moved on
sailing to distant memories
on other IP's

leaving me with

a face I thought was mine

and a vague feeling
of unease

Dreams

And all those ghosts
that chase me
round and round my brain

are just the lovers
I never thought
I'd see again 


 

Water

Moon Version 


water waits

patient

sound of splash

lap

upon stones.


Together we remove

skin

bone

question moments past


You told me

water recreates

paints us

in glistening strokes

draws us in

sculpts

liquid clay.


Together

we prepare ourselves

divest

belief systems

and dreams

lives

falling away

in the cool

embrace



You told me

water takes

steals breath

gives serenity

takes time

leaving forever





Original Version 


You told me

the water waits

patient

 the sound

of a splash

wise

the lapping

upon stones.


Together

we remove

ourselves

skin and bone

question and answer

moment and past


You told me

the water recreates

painting us

in glistening strokes

drawing us

in

sculpting

souls

in liquid clay.


Together

we prepare ourselves

divesting

belief systems

and dreams

lives

falling away

in the cool

embrace



You told me

the water takes

stealing breath

giving serenity

taking time

giving forever’s

Together
we wondered
 if it would be quite right
to slake our thirst
on the city skyline

or perhaps
drink in the grit and grime
running in rivers of decay over
my grubby feet and your designer heels

There is a dumpster telling stories to vagrants
snippets of lives and businesses
secreted in the chipped blue painted walls
it spits out stale pizza
and the clues to a murder
with equal ambivalence

The coughing of the street
interrupts and annoys
cars
choking on themselves
trucks
trundling into the earth
moving shaking
making the sound of the street
a deep resonating bass throb

Passersby share nothing
but little bits of the world
Cantonese slipping seamlessly
into the contralto hum of
Italian as converstations come to us
caress us, then move away
to cafe's and cars
to stores with doors agape
begging and luring in
wide open sultry invitation

We settle on rickety wooden seats
made for small bottoms
you look at all the thighs
spilling over the sides

as the coffee arrives
cold
sugary
served with disdain
the pencil thin gay waiter
glances perfunctorarily
at my crotch
force of habit
rather than genuine interest

We become the blur
another splash of colour
thrown against rough brick walls
seeping into the mortar
joining the riot
the cacophony

The skyline dips down
falling into our open mouths

how

deeply deeply

we do drink
 

You are
 the epitome of distance
and I have become
the rumpled answer to
a question you never asked

Nature turned her back on us,
took her warmth and loving embrace
from our lives
and left us
bleached branches
washed up on a dreary shore

A finger
of wood
to jut into the sky
accusing God and his minions
of deceit
of abandonment

of telling lies


You do not weep
so often now
the tears you gave
so freely
I gathered into a cracked basin
to wash my face with each morning
for

your sadness
cleansed not only
my skin

Atonement
or abasement
I have neither
and offer no such simple solutions

I prefer to continue

for continuance
is a beam of
truth
pulling us back into synchronicity

You are
the epitome of distance
and I
the rumpled belief
you can hold onto
a little longer

Ime

The ipod ipad iphone clatter clutter 

a smooth black seduction 
for fingers and minds 
the caress of touch screen 
pulling us to
high resolution dreamscapes

An app a day
keeps sanity away

and we
will never
be alone again

I talk to your down turned face
the curve of your concentration
arcing beyond me
to Ipeeps
and we-don't-sleep
but its ok
face book will be there
when I am dust 
and gone far away 

There is no buzz
nor hum
to warn us
no prickling skin
and stand up hairs
on the back of the neck

All the deepest human
fight or flight 
are dulled
in the soft screen glow
of Iknow

I seek silence
in your voice
a surcease 
a way to implore you
put it down
turn it off
leave it be



You fail to see
that without you
I can not possible be
nor never find
or never know


Ime

The Ache....

Molten gold
glitter burns 
a touch 
and our fingers glow

We draw sigils 
in the empty air between us
runes of yesterday 
trapped echoes of the way
you seared yourself upon me 


The sky burns 

green for copper 
the taste of blood

gold for promise
a price paid 

We spell out
farewells 
in arcane tongues

whispers pulse
and harangue  
sound gathered in 
the raised hand
 against my face 


No
not loud enough
yet love
scream your loss to my eyes
so i can only see your goodbyes
so i can only 
be a reprise
mentioned at the end of days 


 The runes 
flare and fade
our conversation
cinders falling
to cling upon
 bare walls
where once
we hung frames
where once 
you called my name
as I thrust against you

The gold hardens 
sets
a thin metal sheet of regret
 
Melting into you 
becoming me
leaving us
behind 

 













 

Its just grubby

not amazing , not beautiful
as I thought it would be
should be


I am middle aged and tired beyond
weary bones and creaking groans
my soul
an aching muscle
throbbing with the force
of pounding against my own impotence
to change

I can still see magic
hold 
hold that thought
hold that memory 
 
I can still see magic
glowing
in a seared sunset on the horizon
the colours
spill onto the gray oceans upturned face
spread across her cheeks
flow upon her white cap lashes
till she closes her eyes
and the sea
refuses
to see

I can see it but in noway
reach it
my fingers stiffen and swell
balloon into clown hands
all styrofoam smiles
and drooping fingers

I can see it
but not understand what it means now
a distant thing
a forgotten lore
a dream dropped onto the floor
and trod upon by careless feet


 I sometimes kid myself
that all I ever wanted
was to write lovely things
to place words before you
that sing to your cynical ears

that force you to hear the rhythm
and make your soul tap  along to the
infused collection of emotion and image

I sometimes kid myself
that I can still write
the I can push back the velvet caress
of another night
and bring light forth
bring myself back

bring something

anything


other than who I have become

Maybe's are all I have

On Melbourne summer days
everything looks scoured clean
the skin of the city
raw and tender beneath the beating heat

The New Year
too bright
too jaded
you break it in half over your knee
and refuse to believe its burgeoning possibilities

In those rare moments
when we are not inundated with kids
and bullshit problems to solve
I still might convince you
the sky is my lover
I will fling you over my shoulder
and take you to her

You will fight her for possession

and naturally win

no one fights the sky
like you

The pieces of 2012
are not beyond repair

its only early days
and the heat haze
makes you
glow
in copper and gold

I make no promises
though you ask for them regardless
with those hands
that voice
that conviction

Together we sip the dusk
and argue
over tomorrow
the sun tinkles like a wine glass
as it submits
once again

The cities skin
dimples in the cool
gathers the night around its shoulders
and shudders gently.