Second-hand Hurt

I was watching you through the window
drinking your beer
sitting alone outside today
while I played
“Everything I Own” real loud and sung along and drank my red wine inside
and then you came in to say
that you’d just shared a drink with her
and that’s okay
but when you say these things
it brings it home
that every minute of every hour
you’re aching for her
and your pain gets passed on to me
through your sad eyes
and I realise
that this second-hand hurt
that I am given
is harder to cope with than my own grief
and I would give
everything I own
to bring you relief
but it is my belief
the best I could do
was to continue to swig from my wine bottle’s neck
and heck
share a drink with you too

Over The Moon

I am over the moon

I am over the way its light
is just too bright for night

I am over the way it finds
the cracks between the blinds
and seeps through
and keeps you awake

I read somewhere
(or was told)
that the moon has the same
push
and
pull
effect on our bodies
as it does on the seas
because we
are made up of almost eighty percent water
that sorta made sense to me
but I gotta say
some nights
it just makes me crazy

Infectious

I’m wondering
if that yawn that I caught
just now
was once mine
that I then passed down
to the next person
who then went on
to send it round
the world in eighty days
and now it’s made its way
back to me
in endless circularity

Ahead Of Yourself

Getting ahead of yourself
is easy to do
when you are trying to put
it all behind you
The train’s windows
act as projection screens
for dissecting discussions
that never have been
and concocting conversations
where you say what you mean
When your eyes glaze over
the passing scenes
and nothing was ever
as it always seems
it is time to turn off
those incessant daydreams

Look right through the glass
to what is real outside
and watch it rush by
it is your time to bide
pretty soon you will notice
you’ve gone and arrived
just don’t get ahead of yourself
whilst on this wild ride

Around Here

You told me
you don’t think
that if she came back
she would recognise anything
anymore around here
not the cars on the driveway
nor
the garden
or
the caravan on her front lawn
but I beg
to differ
If she were
to come back
she’d know everything
off by heart
While you were tidying up her kitchen
you looked at me
while holding what appeared to be a scourer
and you said
“what on earth is a ‘hard surface cleaner’?”
and I said
“it’s a cleaner for hard surfaces”
and you said
“like your face”
and I laughed
see
things are much
and will remain as such
the same around here

The Epic Saga Of The Final Days Of The Known World's Last Remaining Wandering Minstrel

The last remaining wandering minstrel
was looking glum
for he felt that he
had been given a task
truly onerous
that had we been asked
all most all of us
would have found to be too upsetting
For being the last remaining wandering minstrel
required fortitude to handle the solitude
and loads of stamina
because all of the wandering
and the minstrelling
could get to ya
and now as his last hurrah
he was to travel near and far
and make known to all and sundry
that from now on
people were to talk of life
and speak of death
not with their words
just only with text
and they would learn
of sorrows great
and tell of loss
too hard to take
receive good news
and divulge their own
all just by using
a thumb and phone

The last remaining wandering minstrel
shed a single solitary tear in self-pity
and then dejectedly walked from city to city
in a final farewell and goodbye tour
until, alas, there were fewer and fewer
places requiring his special talent of news dissemination
as he handed out those little boxes of communication
It was the inevitable, lamentable, nay tragic elimination
of The Last Remaining Wandering Minstrel position

Time Line

You come from
a long line
of strong, fine women
that you will never know
but I will show
and tell you
all about them
as was told to me
The First
said “I don’t deserve this”
left with the five kids
and raised them by herself
The Second
loved a man
who went to war
and swore to himself that he would never speak of it
so he didn’t
for their fifty-two years together
The Third
loved you so dearly
that no matter what the cost
and no matter how hard it hurt
she did whatever she was told to do
to have as many days as possible with you
before her time ran out too soon
The Fourth
loves you more than you’ll ever comprehend
until you yourself get to send
this strength on down the line
in time
The End

The Better Of Me

Most times it feels that
I am not the best I could be
but I'm hoping we'll soon see
you get the better of me
God knows, you’ve seen my worst
I’ll just shut my mouth at first!
until it becomes second nature

Port Of Call

It’s a short distance to that cove
that has long harboured dreams
we’ll set them free
no strings attached
for you and me

It’s a long drop down from the edge
we’ll watch from the cliff top
those hopes get dashed
on jagged rocks
their tethers slashed

It’s a cold, dark dip into the deep
to retrieve what’s survived
scattered debris
flotsam, jetsam
gone out to sea

It’s a slow process to once again
begin building new dreams
from scratch and scraps
salty water
still licks and laps

our feet
and rises

All Things Being Equal

An exhaled breath
can travel the same length and breadth
as the breeze
When asleep, I have as much control
over the rhythmical rise and fall of my chest
as I do over the waves on the seas
For us to set sail
and travel the same length and breadth
as that gentle gust of air
it only needs to fill and billow the sheet
while we pull up the anchor
and hope the tide take us out of there
All things being equal
we should be able to stay afloat
on the strength of a sigh set free
as if being buffeted by gale force winds
or laying my head on your heart
and feeling your expanding lungs slowly empty

Short-term Forecast

We are wasting this weather
being inside these four walls
and it needs to be known
that for one and for all
we are born with a heart
with only so many beats
it’s a finite resource
that we only deplete
why is that window
between you and outside?
let your skin feel the tingle
only sun can provide
please repeat after me
a big fuck you to work
and get out of your school
coz your teacher’s a jerk
let the clouds be your pillow
and the grass be your bed
feel the sky touch your toes
and the zen reach your head
let’s not waste all this weather
rain may wait in the wings
of the birds that fly past
sense the storms that they bring
and when times turn inclement
and we seek shelter and solace
our memories of sunshine
will bring comfort to all us
for we’ll know that we did
all that we humanly could
to get the most from the weather
while the getting was good

Nights At The Round Table

A little mirror image
she drums her fingers
from her thumb to the smallest one
dum dum dum dum dum
she learns by watching him
over and over again
while they are sitting in
the family room
opposite each other
at the round table
but the tables are turned
so she has learned to do it back to front

Jungle Juice

Side by side on the edge of her bed
she hitches up her nightie
as part of the nightly ritual
and then places her hands, one on top of the other
over the top of her bared thigh
so as to imply
“not yet, I’m not ready yet”
and every night the mother waits with patience born of love
and the girl born from her
takes a deep breath and her hands away
and the mother takes the plunge
and feels the pain as if it were her own flesh being pierced
while her flesh and blood gasps and flinches and says
“I’m sorry, that was a bad one"
and the mother says “It’s okay, it’s done”

Store-bought Philosophy

I’ve been out stocking up
and replenishing supplies
I’ve learnt a key lesson
in front of my eyes
My Coke was on sale
but on the top shelf
so I tippied on my toes
and said to myself
“I can get to this elixir
I have reached the top before
I only have to persevere
that’s what tenacity’s for”
So I strained and I stretched
and pulled a muscle or three
but the carton came closer
as I gently tugged it towards me
I am able to get the tips
of my fingers on both sides
and use a little pressure
on the carton 'til it slides
closer to the edge
where I can get a firmer grip
and hold it above my head
while hoping it doesn't slip
I was dizzy but well pleased
when I slowly got it down
with it safely in my arms
I went to turn around
It was then that I realised
I’d had an audience
A man had been watching
in awe-inspired silence
“That really was well done”
the man said to me
“Oh, I’m used to it,” I said
“A life of stretching, you see”
I looked back at the shelves
as I went to walk away
to check just once more
the price I'd have to pay
That’s when I finally noticed
rows of Coke cartons lower down
I need not have struggled!
Man, I felt like such a clown
But then it did occur to me that
I might as well get some more
It was such a good deal they had
and I was already in the store
So I grabbed another three more cartons
and it also then did occur to me
how I had made the task harder for myself
than it had actually ever needed to be
I had expected that it would be a stretch
so I never bothered to look at eye-line
Sometimes life is simple and straightforward
(but this sweet, sweet Coke is mine)

Tracking Time

The hours you’re keeping
to yourself
will do you in
so share them out
It’s been some time
since you’ve had a tan line
of a watch band
on your left hand
You say a clock is just a stopwatch
that counts down our final hours
and who would want to watch what they can’t stop
and who on earth has time for that
So let's get on that road that goes straight ahead
and if this rock is round then it’ll never end
if we can just stay in front
as the sun chases its tail
outrun its daily attempt
to over darkness prevail
then even as we’re sleeping
the hours that you’re keeping
won’t have a chance to catch up with us

Right Angle

When I’m at the right angle
I can see you out of the corner of my eye
Movement catches my attention
If I turn you won’t be there
but I would swear
that the corner of my eye saw you
and if that’s the only part of me that can see you
then that’s better than never seeing you again
and if that’s where you are, in the corner of my eye
then I won’t cry, lest I wash you away
Well, there’s the rub

Get On

I’m gonna get on with my life
yeah, we’re gonna get on real good
We’ll be tight,
me and my life
Move in the same circles
Jump over hurdles
in perfect synchronicity
and mutual agreement and complicity
I’m gonna move on with my life
when we settle on
and select a direction
paying particular attention
to where we want to end up
and what we want to
see
and
do
and
achieve
along the way
we’ll be content and comfortable
in companionable silence
and have a lot in common
I’m gonna get on
with getting on
with my life

High Tension

You’re walking on that tightrope
with your hands over your eyes
but it would be wise
to spread your arms out baby-girl
ready for the world
Take them away from your face
Open them like an embrace
You’ll find your balance
if you just accept you might
lose some height
Look at it this way
Falling is just another kind of flight

Go To Sleep!

If I could remember the way there
I would go to Sleep
right now
leave tonight
rather than lie here lost
directionless
It used to be easy
to go to Sleep
to find my way
by falling…
like
off a log
I slept like one
once upon a time

One Day

The wind one day
collected up all the caution
that had been thrown its way
and wept and wilted
under the burden
of all the expectations and inhibitions
cast aside
like snake skins left behind
after the shimmying and shedding has stopped
The cloud one day
leaked copiously until the lake was bursting its banks
Birds flew past
Dipped their wings in recognition
then dropped like kamikazes
to nestle and settle in for the duration
The tree one day
spread its roots into the land
like toes wiggling in the sand
and made itself comfortable
The mountain one day
gave up trying to pierce the sun with its peak
and was content to savour the view
The valley one day
gave up trying to view the mountain’s peak
and took comfort in providing a course for the river
The river one day
met the sea
They weren’t so different
The ocean one day
moved grain by grain the sand dunes further up the beach
and then
grain by grain
drew then back down again
because
it
could

To Whom It Always Concerns

To Whom It Always Concerns,

Paper is precious in these parts
so this is the last
I will write to you.

There is more to my love than you know
Which is
I found all that I wanted
which was
just simply, you
use your heart as a palette
and people are your paint
I see you as an eager artist liberally and endearingly
stroking and splashing your attention around in broad sweeps and gestures
and brushing, aside to this
all of us want to be the only colour on your canvas
Just you and them alone
The makings of a duotone
(or perhaps a diptych?)
They imagine that they could fit into a frame with you
I did it to
I see now I was just a small part of your picture
I see now we all bear your signature
at the bottom right hand corner
of our hearts.

Signed,

The One No Longer Concerned

Layer Upon Layer

My new skin
only stings
when the shower spray needles hit the spot
that I just cannot
quite put my finger on
I said to the Doc
“there’s a stabbing pain
like a knife in my back”
and quick as a flash
he burnt that sucker off
But
turns out
I pointed to the wrong damn spot
Now I’m going
to have to be growing
some more
when I’ve only just worn in
this new layer of skin
I better begin
at the back
It will be a patch
on the original

Dirty Dishes Sink Shuffle

I’m not listening to any love songs tonight
Not a single, solitary one
No love unrequited, nor passion uninvited
Or love that is over and done
I’ve got the iPod docking station up real loud tonight
and I don’t want no songs about hearts
No two souls united, nor love at first sighted
Or love is the whole of two parts
I’m singing at the top of my lungs tonight
but nothing with lyrics on amore
No moon hitting your eye, nor big pizza pie
Or love that is described in such cliché
I’m not interested in any love songs tonight
I’m skipping tracks as I dance round the sink
No love done me wrong, nor pure, true and strong
Man, there are more songs about love than you think

Ode To A Mysterious Bruise

Oh, mysterious bruise
how you do confuse
I don’t recall
doing anything at all
to cause a haematoma
I didn’t fall over
or walk into a chair
as far as I’m aware
I guess there was some sort of issue
that caused damage to my interstitial tissue
It’s kinda cool how you can change hue
Now you are yellow, first you were blue
When I poke you
it really fucking hurts

The Truth Is Already Known

As I drive home
a mantra to myself
I repeat, I repeat, I repeat
The Truth Is Already Known
It cannot be changed
It has already occurred
and done the damage
We will just have to manage
its consequences
It will be revealed to me
and deal with me
later
There is a terrifying void between
what I know
and have yet to know
The suspension
bridging the two
is what kills me
I can’t turn back
I must drive home
The Truth Is Already Known
there
I repeat, I repeat, I repeat

Now

The present day
is a gift
given to us
from the past
to make up for
previous trespasses
and to then pass on
to the future
as a surprise
unwrapped
then revealed
for the time being
at the present time

Steps

There’s a place I sit
at the top of the steps
where I listen intently
to all that is said
down below
She doesn’t know
I’m here
I hear
I tread carefully so I as to not awake
the floorboards that creak and give me away
And although I don’t understand
all that is meant
I have spent
many hours in this spot
Her voice drifts up in waves
and I can only catch some
of what is said
but it’s enough to know
that it’s about me
and I am scared to be
the cause of her need
to talk so quietly
I worry big
and curl up small
until I hear nothing at all
from my spot at the top of the steps

Jacaranda

A carpet of colour
covers the town
signalling spring’s slow segue into summer
Shrugging off winter’s muted tones
Squinting against the overexposed light
like a photo developed in the dark to reveal a saturation of life
Soon we’ll seek shade for our skin
while sunlight sprinkles down, leaving dappled patterns on exposed limbs
There’s a Monet in our midst called mother nature
and she paints for us the same picture each season
so we can reminisce on days spent
threading flower chains
underneath a canopy that sheds
dollops of paint like purple rain

Dented

There’s a burning sensation in your chest

You just had to bring up your heart again

didn’t you

And now mine’s in my throat

The doctor says he wants to test

yours

But we know it already has been

I say, it can’t hurt

You say, not now that it’s broken

In the silence, we both hear the beat being missed

Then you say, “well, not broken, just dented”

You just had to bring up your heart again

didn’t you

Happy birthing day haiku

Breathe, heave, breathe, heave, breathe
Sluuuurp pop! waaaaah!, place skin on skin
Happy birth day, Mum!

For The Win

I’m cutting my losses
into little tiny pieces
and what I’ve gained
now remains
left
over
and is now over
and done with
I’m cutting my losses
and counting my blessings
but the lessons I’ve learned
have yet to be turned into wisdom
Sometimes I lay them out
All those little tiny pieces
But each time I do, I’m missing another from before
It seems I need to cut some more
It’s better than having nothing at all
And yet there’s nothing to win
because I’m not keeping score
So I’ll cut my losses
and set them free
Toss them into the wind
My own celebratory confetti
I’m cutting my losses
loose

One’s Company

One’s company
and two’s a crowd
there’s safety in numbers
but you’re too proud
to impose on others
so you sit alone
in a cookie cutter room
with nothing but the drone
of the news on loop
and the conditioned air
for comfort and companionship
You’re suddenly aware
that this may be
the way it is for you
forever and forever
And then a text comes though
“How u doin’?" she asks
You pause before you reply
You think about faking
and telling a lie
You think about saying
all is well, all is great
“Having a real fun time!”
But it’s too late
You’re telling her how
you’re not clear any more
“What am I doing?” you ask
You’re so scared and unsure
One’s company, you realise
is just too, too much
but you try to find a way
to live without another’s touch
She sends back support
As much as she can
You keep a copy
to have it on hand
You refer to it repeatedly
It means more than she’ll know
“I hope the cry helped
You are the business xo”

Image

I took a look at myself in the mirror today
to see if could view myself in much the same way
as you would
But it was no good
I realised more than likely the case would be that
you wouldn’t be observing my reflection
You’d be looking straight in my direction
So with one last look at my ass in the glass
I turned right around and walked away
(with just the barest hint of a sway)

Licking the bowl

Sometimes I bake a cake
just so I can lick the bowl
Sometimes the finished product
isn’t my ultimate goal

Biting the air

You once said
we should all spend our days like dogs
Heads out the car window
Not a care where they go
Just snapping at the breeze
Doing as they please
“We should all bite the air”
you said philosophically
Contemplatively
So we drove away from there
and as the wind hung on to my hair
for the ride
I gave you a side
ways glance
and a grin
and we bit the air

Perspective

There’s more than meets the eye level with the sky
Turn once, and now you lie
face to face
Hello, handshake, goodbye.
Space in place of an embrace
How low we make so high

Half a smile each

I come around the curtain
I see you sitting in a chair
Staring intently at a crossword
You’re not aware I’m there
You look up
and then we share
a smile
but now that you’re gone
to God knows where
I guess I get to keep them all for me
I'd say I've got some left spare

So little time, so much time

I watch through the window as you scrape the sole of my shoe
It’s here that she stood, and here was her view
Dear heaven, is this what it’s come down to for you?
Cleaning mud from a tread because you don’t know what else to do?

I ask you often what you’re going to do with your day
“As little as possible and getting away with it” you say
It used to make me laugh, now I'm filled with dismay
I see behind the front and all’s not okay

Soldier On

Oh no!
Not again!
I’ve let my guard down
Look at him
He’s tsk tsk-ing
And tut tut-ing
His look of disappointment
to the bone is cutting
I didn’t mean
to not live up
to his expectations
A half empty cup
He’s standing watch
Always standing by
Always girding and guarding
With an eye-roll and sigh
“She’s done it again!”
he says exasperated
“Why does she do this to me?”
“This job is over-rated!”
But each morning
he goes and gets
his trousers and coat
with its epaulettes
and shines his shoes
and dons his helmet
and assumes his position
but sometimes I forget
what he wants from me
and I’ll see him frown
and I’ll think “oh no!”
“I’ve let my guard down!”
Again.

Face It

You once said I was hard to read
But you were mislead
In truth, I am an open book
It’s just that I would sometimes look
away
If I sensed you trying to flick through my flippin’ pages
Seriously, my back is cracked
My spine is broken
from being so open
Face it, you totally want to play poker with me

Laundry

What I said was never right
I always seemed to be left
hanging
on your every word
out to dry
‘til you’d come by
to take me down a peg or two
You were the basket I put all my eggs in to
What a dumbass thing to do
Now it’s the case
that I’m the basket

A few words on six years

He’s found your book
where you took
notes on who you gave what to
for birthdays and Christmases

Wish I could look
in every nook
and cranny of my mind and find
memories as clear as those records in your writing

So much for the past
That September
we do remember
It will last
and linger

Time shouldn’t be a distance
But in this instance
You feel further away than ever before
And I fear for ever more
the gap will grow and grow
And I’m too slow
to grasp you before you go
even further away

We move on
Leaving you behind
But now I’m watching him writing on the lines
of your book
Updating since your last entry
who got what and when
He does it so you can begin
to join in
and catch up on all that you’ve missed out on

Heart Strings (AKA Listen To Yo Mamma)

I can see the strings of your heart
under a skin so thin and translucent
Those blue lines so fine branching out
tie you two together
She’ll show you the ropes
She knows all the bows
and all the knots
and how to unravel the tangle
that life can bind and blind you to
She’ll show you how to play those heart strings
Life’s melody flows (I see it sing)
In you.

Singular

Cell, you’re sole
but nevertheless
essential to the whole
and always more
than the sum of your parts
Taking your toll
when playing your role
Pay to your heart’s contents
(blood, veins, arteries and vents)
a constant source
through the system sent
And when your job is done
some more will come
to take your place
until one day…
none

Sensitive

If I arose one morning and my eyes couldn’t see
I would trace your face with my fingertips
If one night I couldn’t hear a word you said
I would listen through my hands on your lips
If one day my skin couldn’t feel anything
I’d still be touched that you made time for me
If dawn broke, I awoke, and was no longer clairvoyant
that’s cool, you and I have no need for telepathy
If one soon afternoon I couldn’t detect your scent
I’d sniff the air like a bloodhound on your case
If the buds on my tongue one evening went numb
I’d still lick you all over your face

Corrugations

You mark my words
if you must
Red ink
But I think
for once I will do justice
to the memory
So with that in mind
I feel inclined
to start
Now

I said “let’s take it to the top!”
But God knows I was pushed to the dizzy limit
“Pull yourself together!”
That’s what you said to me
So we pulled together
not just ourselves but as one
“Get a grip!”
That’s what you said to me
(I still have your text, and here's what happened next)
So I got a grip real tight
and grabbed your hand
‘cause I’ve never been one to hold my own
in these sort of situations
And the sign said “You Made It!”
And I thought
“that’s bullshit”
It wasn’t until I got back down
that I felt on top of things again
And I will fight each day to never get that far away again

You call to say it is no more (literally)
You call to say you set it on fire (ritualistically)
You say of the monkeys on your back you have one less
(You call to say some bastard stole your fishing gear, but I digress)

I wanna ask, “What’ll you do now?”
I wanna ask “Are you going again?”
Anyway, I guess you’ll be home soon
“See you later, talk to you then”

Broken Bracelet

I shut the door then turned around
It was then I heard the distinctive sound
of spilling beads scattering on the ground
I dropped to the floor. I hoped I’d found
all the parts to make it whole once more
but I was pretty sure there was some left on the floor
Now I look down and my wrist is bare
Not even a mark to show it was there
You connected the clasp, it was never undone
A token trinket of what we’d begun
I much preferred to have it there to stay
than put it away for a special day
At least I got to see it that way
Now I wonder what you’d have to say
I swear to you I never meant to break it hey.

Radtown Song

I’m awake up to you, though you’re only a pipe dream
I feel like the old me (younger version) and it would seem
that I think less of sleep than I have sleepless nights
now that I allow myself fancies and flights
But I better take care along for the ride
We can share the setbacks, and in my stride
we’ll step out together and come what may
For the rest of the year and here to stay

Piercing Haiku

Dude by the train door
Large round hole through left earlobe
Sunlight streams through you

Sibling Riflery (and other acts of random violence from my youth)

I say “I am gonna shoot you”
You say “I’ll catch the bullets with my teeth”
I say “I’m gonna kick in you in the kidney”
You say I haven’t got the reach
I say “I’m gonna head butt you, break your skull”
You say “You’ll come off second best”
I say “I’ll knock the breath out of your lungs”
You say “Ha! not with my rock-solid chest”
I say “I’ll karate kick your shins”
You say “Your foot will snap in half”
I say “I’ll lob a grenade and blow you up”
You say “through my impenetrable fortress? don’t make me laugh”
I say “I’ll knee you in the groin”
That shut you up

Buckley's

Once upon a time
a snowflake took a chance
and went to Hell
in the hope he’d live to tell
the tale
But as we all know
He didn’t have a hope
Nope
Despite being one of a kind
You will find
The result was just the same
as had it been any one of us

Constant Companion

With a shadow of doubt the past casts its silhouette
Its outline stays sharp despite the sun being set
At times its elongated form extends straight out ahead
Or sometimes following behind as if being lead
But whichever way you do look it sticks to you tight
And it doesn’t need darkness and it doesn’t need light
It only needs memories (and you’re in all mine)
Yet even in the shade there’s a little bit of shine
So I’m trying hard to believe that a light will always shimmer
Even if a shadow of doubt will be created by its glimmer

Lifted

It feels all kinds of wrong when I see the moon during the day
There are just some things that should not be this way
I know to every thing there is supposed to be a season
But to me, some of them just do not stand to reason
Why do we call it milk if it does not come from an animal?
Why do people who do the most get paid the bare minimal?
When I look up above I get the same sense of unease
when flowing and blowing in the sky blue breeze
I see a balletic plastic bag fly and freeze
It looks so beautiful, but then I think “jeez,
It’ll take 500 billion years for that bag to decompose”
I don’t suppose
It just goes
forever
Never causing any harm, just acting as a balm
to sore eyes
No, it’ll probably land in the ocean
No more poetry-in-motion
for it
Probably strangle a dugong
See, like I said,
All kinds of wrong

Bibliotheca

The effect is instantaneous
Outside its door I’m anxious
Nervous, most of the time
But when the glass parts and I’m cosseted by the familiarity
of the rows and rows and rows of paper and ink, I think
“ah, peace”
Nothing worries me while I wander its aisles
with its piles and piles and piles of other people’s thoughts
most of which go over my head while I trail my fingers across their spines
full of lines that I will never read
And although the nature of its business has evolved, it is consistent
and resistant to becoming hipster-cool
Oh sure, it has a DVD rack
and stacks of CDs for people to hire
Loads and loads and loads of André Rieu
who seems to be so du jour
at the moment
But still, as well, its taste is timeless, if not faultless
I’ve been coming here since I was able
to stock my bedside table
with something for free
Imaginary
Tales long forgotten that have left their mark
To spark a young girl to want to write
I wish I could bottle its Zen
and when I needed it, dab the liquefied relaxed calmness
onto my main pressure points
or drink it straight into my system
But I can’t
So I’ll keep coming back, through those doors
to explore someone else’s world
in the hope of leaving mine for a while

I Am Too

I know. I know.
You’ve told me before.
She’s the one for you.

She grows, and shows
so much more
than I ever do

and I have hitherto
not revealed my ability to be, like her, so gosh darn enigmatic
But on this I am emphatic
I can be deep.
I can be meaningful.
I can be so amazingly mystical!
“My word! … You’re captivating!” you’ll say (about me)
It’ll be like the intellectual revelation equivalent of when the dowdy secretary
whips off her glasses
just as her boss passes
her in the hall
also just at the same time as she lets out her hair from its tightly wound bun
and down her back cascades her tresses
and then he confesses
just how much he now realises he cares for her
“My word! … You’re enchanting!” you’ll say (about me)
Or hey, you might say
“enchanté”
All, like, the French way

(Sorry, where was I ? ... oh yeah)

And when you do
your mind will expand to include the landscape I introduce you to
and you’ll bestow on me more attention
and affection
than anyone else before has been blessed to receive from you

You Didn't See Me, Right

I’ve got my cap pulled way down low
and my sunglasses shield my face
I’ve scraped my hair into a tight chignon
Not a loose tendril out of place
I am so incredibly incognito
I barely recognise myself at all
Such a simple disguise deftly donned
Surely ASIO will give me a call
I walk by a bus stop shelter
and see my reflection in its glass
I give myself a deliberately shifty look
and then an elaborate wink as I pass
I could be anyone right now
The Saint or someone of that ilk
And then I ask myself “what is with you?
You’re just going to the shop for some milk!”

Off Your Chest

I approach you in the hallway
I put a hand to your chest as we go to pass
Just as a way to say “hey”
But it stops me dead in my tracks
Your beat freaks me out
It seems to be thumping real hard in my hand
I say “wow, it’s really jumping!”
You say, with a shrug, “well, I guess it’ll wear itself out one day”
All, like, c'est la vie
And it occurs to me
that it will wear itself out, but just not on your sleeve

Cheer The F#@k Up, Mel

I am exactly where I thought I’d be
I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy
Well, not fulfilled, more like almost empty
Yeah, self-depleting, predictably

I could have told you, right from the start
Could have plotted it for you on a chart
Shown you the result straight away, truth be told
And now it’s too late, I’ve gone and got old

Maybe if I’d predicted some other conclusion
I wouldn’t be in this zone of exclusion
Maybe if I’d imagined a different result
How it turned out would not be my fault

But I’m not disappointed or even surprised
This is exactly how I had it surmised
A crystal clear vision that’s now come true
I called it from the start, well what can you do?

Tense and Waiting

I am way past tense it’s belated
that I now move on to aggravated
You see, my participle is so outdated
that it has made me quite irated
I know that’s not even a word
It’s just that I’m trying to be heard
above the din and cacophony that occurred
and the shock and the gasps that were stirred
when I used an irregular verb
It’s a habit I'm unable to curb
And it does seem so to disturb
Even sometimes to annoy and perturb
But we can’t all be in the here and now
You must at least, just this once, allow
some time for me to make this vow
My participle will be present and perfect some how

Just Off The Top Of My Head

I’ve cut off my nose to spite my face
Of my olfactory system there is no trace
I’m minus a sinus, a nostril or two
An appraisal of my nasal will show this is true
I’ve turned a blind eye and the other cheek as well
But I got my tongue tied so I just couldn’t tell
My lips were sealed and I didn't make a sound
But I kept my chin up and an ear to the ground
I won’t be brow-beaten or stick my neck out instead
Because that’s all I’ve got, off the top of my head

The Score

I won’t play second fiddle
if you blow your own horn
You better change your tune
or face the music and my scorn
Your harping may strike a chord
with those others less well-versed
in your song and dance routine
that you continue to rehearse
When others sing your praises
you say “We’ll play it by ear”
Well, on that note
I’ll leave you my dear

Motherchompin' Termites

Even if they eat the house right down to its core
Even if your feet fall right clean through the floor
The termites can’t munch memories

Even if the walls crumble as you sit in your chair
Even if they reduce to sawdust each and every single stair
The termites can’t munch memories

Even if the roof has a hole you can see through to the outside
Even if the bedroom has an unexpected water fall a metre wide
The termites can’t munch memories

Even if the pergola falls and crashes down on your head
Even if a beam breaks, knocks you out, kills you dead
The termites can’t munch memories

Sign Language

An index finger points the way
My thumb extended says “All’s okay!”
A band on the ring finger says “I got him to stay!”
The pinkie really has no part to play
The remaining finger says “Have a nice day!”

Consumed By Love

You’re food for my thoughts
The apple of my eye
I’m drinking you in
The tea leaves don’t lie

Your smile is my bread and butter
Your laugh, icing on the cake
But you never even call me
How much silence can I take?

What am I, chopped liver?
But I just saved your bacon!
So you don’t want this jelly?
Well, that’s your mistake you be makin’

Galaxically Desperate

You are the world to me
but I’m not the world to you
I would never presume to be so planetary
Maybe you think of me as a supercontinent, like Gondwana, before all the land masses broke up.
No, I guess not, I would never presume to be so tectonic.
Perhaps you think of me as a country
No, I would never presume to be so topographical
Any chance you view me as an isthmus?
No, I would never presume to be so hard to pronounce
How about a nation state or a principality?
No, I guess not, I don’t really understand what they are
Maybe an atoll?
Hmmm, too radioactive …
But you are the world to me

Untitled

If the cat’s got your tongue
and the tail wags the dog
is a bird in the hand
as easy as falling off a log?

If your present is a white elephant
don’t look the gift horse in the mouth
or the early bird will get the worm
when it starts heading south

The best laid plans
of mice and men
may result in the lion’s share
but not its den

There’s something fishy
when your goose is cooked
You’re as blind as a bat
but still overlooked

Independence Day

As I pass other people I exhale
I avoid any inhalation
I have a goal I am sure to fail
I want to live in isolation

I don’t want to breathe them in
I don’t want to need anyone
So as from today I’ll begin
to continue on as I’ve begun

No man is an island, they say
Well that’s fine, I’ll just float on the sea
And as I pass you by on my way
You’ll be able to see I’m free

Beholden and holding on to no one
From within will come my satisfaction
And if I look particularly lonesome
Don’t give me your pity or compassion

Please.

Burning Need

I spoke to a Barbara Sparks
and this left me with a desire
to have a surname that was a verb
with connotations of fire

Then I conversed with a Connie Burns
and this desire turned into an obsession
It grew in strength like flames in a forest
And here’s where I make my confession

I wanted to marry Fred Sizzles
Just so I could acquire his good name
But our courtship eventually fizzled
I think he worked out my game

I fear he discovered I was cheating
Two-timing him behind his back
I was also seeing Jim Scorches
My mind was on a one-way track

I had to have an awesome surname
It was turning into a real crisis
When it didn’t work out with Wayne Singes
I changed it legally to Cauterizes

3rd May, 1969: A Few Words on Forty Years

Once again, like all those years ago, there you are, a vision in white
Only this time there is no lace, no flowing veil, no flowers in sight

Just a stark clean sheet covering your far too familiar face
And though I walk right beside you, between us is an impenetrable, infinite space.

It lies between us now, forever gaping, I must remain here as they take you away
From the house where we were united since we vowed to love, honour and obey.

The same threshold I carried you over you must now travel back across on your own
For love never comes with lifetime guarantees, it’s only given to us on loan.

It doesn’t seem so very long ago that we were young and starting our life
You were my partner, and though I never said it, a soul mate, as well as wife.

You took your last breathe on the same date as your first, quite a circle you created there my sweet
And eventually one day, as is yours, my story too will be complete.

You never made it to your Winter, but then again, you never did like the cold
So I’ve had to make up news plans, discard the ones of us together growing old

Then the rain comes and the lily blooms and we who remain believe you’re back for a while
And it keeps you alive, a part our ritual, to make sure your memory makes us smile.

And our youngest, who has my eyes and your hair, asks “Is it better to have loved and then lost?”
And I tell her truthfully that I wouldn’t change a single moment even if being alone now is what it cost.

A Few Words on Five Years

“A very windy day,” you write to me
And you sound all right thankfully
“the clouds belting across the blue sky are wispy,”
You don’t know it, but you just wrote poetry
You and I, we’re mates you see
Unexpectedly, but that is how it be
I worry all you have is rear-view memories
but then you send me mail electronically
full of tales of no food or electricity
but plenty of cold beer miraculously
and I can tell you’re getting on with it bravely
and she’d be proud of you, her Neil Stanley

Crab Bait

Separated from the river by a sliver of shell
the boat glides as the girl guides it along
From water like glass the sun shoots glistening sparks
She listens as the ripples play their own special song

Propelled by the power of oars, arms and legs
they skim along as if they might fly
The curtain rises on a morning, the city stretching and yawning
watches on while as one they slide by

She controls each push and pull with short, sharp, simple words
that are condensed by the cold into vapour
No one else exists, except these girls and the winter mist
When wistful, this moment she will savour

When they win she feels she could walk on the water
Hoisted aloft and thrown into inky iciness in victory
And they laugh, and they’re young and they’re confident and its fun
She remembers the smell, the sights, how it used to be

She wonders what happened to that girl with the presence
and the passion and the poise, have you seen her?
She was going places, she would light up faces
When she was somebody, a contender, and a winner

Passport Picture

“Look happy,” he says “but don’t smile”
So I clamp my lips tight
and try to show delight
just by using my eyes

Harsh lighting doesn’t like me
For under my eyes is baggage
They’re sure to charge for excess luggage
If I show this face when I fly

A corpse-like complexion stares back six-fold
Black hair, strange glare
Oh my gosh!, I wasn’t aware
that I’m an emo. Wherever I go, this will come too

Mother's Milk

The bottle of brandy stands empty
A hollow, vacuous vessel
Last night its fermented fruit was my friend
Today, only the aroma remains
Oh, sweet lovely, motherly brandy!
Drunk neat without the dry
You brought a tear to my eye
Your powerful potency was like liquid lightening
Distilled, medicinal electricity
Amber numbness from a tumbler
But alas, no more goldeny goodness will flow
To the bottleshop I must go
But hark!, never fear!
Another awaits!
Like a silent sentinel seeking a call to arms
to fight a war against sobriety and reality
A back-up battalion of brandy (well, just one bottle really)
sits on my shelf
So I’ll have a drink, and think
of you.
You old soak.

Tunnel Vision

My wandering eye
won’t see a wider view of the world
It’s because when I
was a child they cut the muscles
My vision free to see only what could go wrong

My mirror mirage
reflects a stare both direct and distorted
A memory montage
of what went before and what will be in store
Repeated transmissions projecting the future

A squint is a smile
where you swear you never see my lips move
It is not my style
for my face to show false emotions
The lines are etched too deep

Blink to refocus
And all that is blurred is brought back to clarity
All this can show us
is that chance is not a charity
where the needy get priority

Long lashes can’t veil
a gaze that glazes over with alarming frequency
I am sure to fail
to control what map my mind decides to follow
It’s a safer path to predict

And there could go I
But by the grace of God I am spared
And it will be my
cross to bear that I am never happy,
only relieved

Submerged but still surviving

It’s almost ten years since my twenty-first
Time has neither flown nor frozen
That was the day I first saw your face
To be honest, you’re not the one I’d have chosen

I specifically requested you be easily understood
Not be large, Roman or minimalistic
I wanted your hands to be plain and precise
And also artfully simplistic

Sometimes when it’s very quiet
I hear you tick despite my tinnitus
Sometimes you leave a dark mark on my wrist
But black dermographism will never divide us

For now I can’t imagine you not by my side
Informative, reliable and consistent
Your gold gleam may have dulled over the years
But at least you’re still water resistant

So here’s to another decade of dates,
Meetings, greetings and goodbyes
Through it all you’ll get me there on time
Unless your battery dies

Turner’s Girl in a Spin

The creation of a life, the potential, and the gamble
Countless particles to be put right, all elemental, so fundamental

A game of noughts and crosses, y’s and x’s, battle of the sexes
Gather the genetic information, form a plexus, but then fate flexes

Missing material from nature’s recipe, still an entity, she was met to be
Such a fluke of fate just to exist, aren’t we all uniquely, and genetically, freaky?

And they bottle her blood every birthday
And scan her hand right down to the bone
To gauge how much growth she has in her
So she shrinks back to her comfort zone

And if science has its way, will she be terminated, eliminated?
Would these chromosomal quirks be eradicated, obliterated?

Would you choose not to be, if the choice was yours, if you could press pause
Or would you decide to proceed, with all your flaws, and the complications they’ll cause

And they bottle her blood every birthday
And scan her hand right down to the bone
To gauge how much growth she has in her
So she shrinks back to her comfort zone