Over Under threw down Up

Shaking with tiredness and pent up physicality

my body now the host to a mind

my mind now a slave to learning

information

jargon

scaffolding, pedagogy, context.

There are four walls surrounding this suburb

walls that don’t really exist.

The box me in

I feel claustrophobic

and I escape

only to find

that the trams are boxes of a different shape.

I haven’t seen the horizon or stars for days

it’s no cause for concern

I know they’re there

but the too too many people

and the far too too much to do

do not let them reach here.

I share this suburb with the bats

they screech and take to the skies

I sigh and take to the nightlife

nostalgia knocks and I let her in

present moments are distant

and I am remiss to discover that the cocktails tasted better in memory

and the summer time sunlight stretched longer.

Appreciating the workaholic lifestyle for the first time

the sounds of messy life become inaudible

as I sink deeper into the warm waters of over work

over stimulation

over enthusiastic

overwhelming tiredness, momentarily

I won’t let that lethargy take over, not this time

it has before

back in the days when I knew less about life and me.

These are some words

for those with sore back

broken hearts

big dreams

double beds.

The trees in this place are different since the drought broke

I see me in them

they sway unknowingly in the warm north wind.

Sunny with a top of twenty six

A woman walks along the street in Barcelona. She is crying quietly, but she does not allow the sadness to infect her walk, or posture,  her quiet outward display of inward emotions. It is her contorted face, streams of unwipable tears that give her secret away.
A child, her child I assume, walks by her side, hand in her hand, eyes directed forwards staring into an infinity of the street ahead of her. The child stares into the future and the past.
Besides the woman walks a man, I guess her younger brother. He can see the cars and pedestrians and bicycles that are invisible to those he walks with. He is in the present. He is The Rock.
The woman pushes open the door of Burger King. They exit the street, and enter the fast food joint. Comfort food.
Another story, in another life that you and I will never know.

How To: Write

Move slowly across the words

sink them into the page

one at a time

caressing each silent syllable as it becomes part of the whole.

Don’t waste words

but in the same way don’t cram them together

or meaning might get lost

in fast acting quicksand

in crowds of thick thoughts.

Write poems to get drunk on

indefinitely.

reflections on leaving Perth

The worst part of leaving

is all the goodbyes

all the people

who understand me

who I am

who have offered unconditional love.

The worst part of now

is that I can’t stand

being around anyone

because the pain of goodbye

is weighing

too heavily on my shoulders.

Why do I keep doing this?

To myself

to my friends

why do I keep leaving?

It kinda feels

like it’s beyond me somehow

that by committing my life

to the ebbs and flows

to the tos and fros

to chance and opportunity

that it turns out that I didn’t choose to leave

but more like

there was little choice but to go

for the now

but I’ve said it before

and now

I’ll say it again

without any ego or pretext

that I do love Perth

and that I will be back.

The only thing

that hinges heavily on that remark

is that to move again may be too much.

I’ve done it before

and again

and again

and each time

it feels

more and more difficult to say goodbye.

It’s almost as if

there are two of me,

one of me craves stability

of location

of friendship

of routine

but the other me

fights without reserve

against the restraints of safety of stability.

And that’s not a bad thing

it’s been a great thing

it’s the thing that forces me

to travel the world

to try different jobs

to move to different places

not based on need

but based on adventure

and I get that

and I do love that

but leaving Perth

after my two year stint

I have just realised

how ingrained I have become

how much family I have here

related not by blood

but through shared experiences

interests

time

unconditional love

and I’ll miss my Perth family

but they give a reason to return

and I will

be back

brace yourselves.

It’ll be slightly glorious

but largely humbling

and the houses in Perth will be cheaper

because by then

the mining boom will be over

and we can surf

at trig

and camp on weekends

and soak up the sun

for nine months of the year

and even winter will be okay

because next time

I’ll have a good heater

and a car to get around.

-----

New Glasses

Do you see the significance of my new glasses?
It's staring you right in my face.

Reason Reason

Continuous shutdowns

Flamboyant hats

Up-dos

Buttoned up

and the others

Granting hiatus for carelessness

but the consequence is yours

for the next

eighteen years

or so

Can’t pin your hopes on C-bombs though

or H-trains

or G-strings

a fierce farce

if ever there were one

Clamber up those stares

of marijuana pupils

as you watch the paranoia set in

but I’m only staring at you because you’re staring at me

Justification for this

Reason for that

the pile grows tall

then dissolves in the rain

and it always rains

in wintertime

Vanuatu

I lived in Vanuatu
for a short time
for a too short time
I don't talk much about it

The Playground

Post card

with naked men from Pentecost island

and my scrawled words

stuck with a magnet

to their fridge

in Parkville

Two

About to face the unsleeping usurper of Satan

in your delicately balanced two-pound-per day lifestyle

a new corduroy hat

languid body sitting slumped against the red brick wall of despondency

laugh forever at nothing jokes.

The eaves droop in the heat and begin a benign one-two-one-two dance routine

disclosing desire, lust, love, hate and want, the price goes up

no two bets match

no two birds collide.

Fighting inevitability with teeth clenched, claws sharp, no-holding-back assuredness in the absurdity of it all.

The clasps tighten.

Laces all tied up.

Over and under and round and round-a-bout time to confess,

                                        buddy.

Crosses

Haunting

A friend

Friends

Family

I realise

I too am followed

A prevailing childhood souvenir

Appearing in unexpected places

Constantly in the background

Imposing on everyday objects

A sign

A tree

A necklace

Demanding a conscience

And filling it with guilt

The body

The blood

The unholy human urges

Sometimes

Even

I feel an urge

To say grace

(The inspiration: once you see a crucifix once)

Uncolliding

Bending along curves
Discussing wealth & wisdom
Bury exposed hopes and pray for them
Prey in them
Engorge on them
But do not be ashamed
Apparitions follow us all when the lights are out
Just as despondency dissolved in the old days
Dance in the space
Underneath awareness
Soulless phenomenon
Sounding out the syllables
Disclosing nothing to many
And all to few
Feverish desolation at the curse of ego
The joy of ego
Don't go jousting the peasantry
Await a match worth you selflessness
Winery of the minds eye
Discover nothing
But blissful satisfaction
                                    of the now

A Short One

Cracks in the carpet

Through which demons escape

Invisible but for their effect on the people they encounter

The Insensibility of Sensibility

The Insensibility of Sensibility (Aka Accidentally Jane Austin)

The problem is not asking questions

The other problem is asking too many questions

Either way

None of it makes sense

We consume baby cow food

We eat chicken periods

We watch far too many American actors

Our cars run on million year old animals and plants

Our children run on Apple© products

One in ten people in Australia live alone

That’s just the surface

Scratch it and the itchy addiction begins

Society’s a bore

We live long lives

Minimum physical complaints

Maximum mental ills

Thank God for the Modern World

Or

Should that be

Thank Richard Dawkins?

An Ode to Credit Cards

Oh hail the mighty credit card

You allow near endless purchasing power

You give strength to all your lucky disciples

Strength to shout drinks

Strength to dress well

Strength to walk confidently down the street

More importantly

You give hope

Hope that the bill will never have to be paid

Therein lies the majesty of the credit card

Oh! That hope

Endless, fickle hope

And for me

I just hope I never get one

Rule-ing

Move through the colours

Listed

Named

Filed

Put aside

Take out all the pencils

Order them based on thickness, 

Softness

Give them letters,

Or numbers

Put them neatly away

Lists of animals

Places

People

Create a definition of beauty

Score every thing on a scale

Ordered

Concise

No need for discussion

The entire world

Intimately immaculate

Properly pompous

The whole thing becomes worthless

I am a miss

I am a miss

Not amiss

Not a “ms”

I am a miss

Why?

You ask

Women’s rights allow us to be called ms

You say

It’s the female equivalent of mr

You state

It removes the importance of marriage

I get that

I reply

But, I am a miss

And here’s why

I’m not married

I’m more than happy for people to know that

It is part of who I am

So give me the right to tick the “ms” box

But don’t you dare take away my “miss” box

Because I am a miss

Arrogant Pigeon

Arrogant pigeon

Bobbing by like he owns the place

The toughest birds hang out in the city

Before I have time to mull over this thought and its possible metaphorical elegance, my attention is stolen away

A murder of crows

Ripping apart a dead mouse

A young guy walks by

Without noticing

Then a kid on a pink scooter and her parents

Each, in turn, missing the gory scene

All the passers by pass by

The crows continue to tear at the creature

And I watch

Heard it before?

There’s the stuff about fame:

Spread your wings and fly

Achieve

Fame & fortune

Or at least your fifteen minutes

Make your mother proud

There’s the stuff about careers:

Live your life

By the books

Dotting the eyes and crossing the teas

Playing the game

Part of the rat race

But in the end:

Clichés pile up

The world keeps spinning

We close out eyes

And hope against hope

For just one

              original thought

A cube of black nothingness

A cube of black nothingness

We’re not sure where it’s come from

It just floats there,

a little above the floor,

staring at us through nothing eyes,

judging us through a nothing mind

We start to consider ourselves

how much we have in common with the nothing cube

As a result,

a nothing sound fills the room,

our eyes become nothing eyes staring at nothing

our minds have thoughts about nothing and fill with nothing

The nothing cube expands, then contracts as through it’s taking a breath,

then...

disappears into nothing