A new blog entry...post National Poetry Day, pre litigation...a poet's life ain't an easy path.
Sunday 11th October 2015 9:50 pm
Tags: biography, Reflection, self reflection
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To walk early in the dewy wood
The earth soft and cushioned
To hear first the movement’s of its day
Passing deftly under arching boughs
The path trod leads back to the sleeping house
Viewed from the crest in the clearing
Shin high mist swirls about
Rabbits thump and scurry
Nothing stirs without purpose
Now is the day fit for man
To place himself within
Tuesday 28th July 2015 7:56 am
Tags: Nature, reflection
She drags tired heels
across a tainted floor,
poise slightly bowed
and her back is sore.
She holds on her face
a cold marble stare,
a hard life engraved
upon cheeks once so fair.
Her faulting movements,
once graceful; divine,
her aching limbs now
with guile, defy
her final performance
on this dark empty stage,
of a much better age...
Sunday 28th June 2015 9:36 am
Tags: AGE, DRUGS, END, FAME, FORTUNE, ILLNESS, LIGHTS, REFLECTION, regrets, STAGE, STARLET, STORMY
In a redemptive netherworld he visited high mountain plains, where in colourless voids between dreams his sleeping self would sob.
In sobbing, his unknown distress would lead him downward through dark caverns and tunnels, hidden from his damaged mind. Then entering new chambers lit by an unseen sun, true beauty would flood his restless slumber, soaking up his grief.
Taking him furt...
Monday 22nd June 2015 5:51 am
I remember Kandahar, flying low across a golden landscape in the door of a Blackhawk, the sun a red ball sinking behind jagged mountains. The goat herders below us, waving their sticks upward, flashing huge toothy smiles. Seeing the sand whip up around them as we roared over and passed them.
The sheer beauty of it, the thrill and wonder of being alive in that moment. Seeing The Gates of K...
Friday 19th June 2015 6:51 am
Tags: Reflection, War
Once, just a number.
When first counted I was happy to be so.
It dawned on me that I was an odd digit, un-countable in their reckoning.
All my friends, no more than a running total in a blood stained balance book.
Ten years gone, those eight digits still roll off my bitten tongue,
Though, un-reserved now.
I have subtracted myself to zero.
Every day I divide myself to...
Thursday 11th June 2015 12:32 am
Along the open flatlands toward Stimlje, the land rises.
Through the tight enclosed lanes to the further side, almost leaving.
A battered overgrown compound, mesh fences collapsing, open in part.
Stimlje Mental Asylum.
The incarcerated have not departed, abandoned they remain.
The staff having fled, chose freedom.
Snow lays patchy underfoot, stained with shit and blood....
Friday 5th June 2015 12:31 pm
Tags: Conflict, Reflection, War
Bible black surround’s,
Wet wall’s and puddled floor,
Hunched with shoulders loaded full,
toward the seascape door.
The damp and smokey lanes that spiral through the town,
The bloody aproned butcher, the priest in priestly gown,
The gossip climbs the stone lined streets, into their ancient dwellings,
to breathe a million whispers embellished with each telling...
Friday 22nd May 2015 6:38 am
Are the nights getting cold?
As your flesh begins to fold
Do your skies darken early?
Do songbirds sing, but rarely.
Are your parents ghosts of memories?
That never let you sleep with ease.
Families parted from each other
Distant sister, distant brother.
This land has grown away from me,
What once was can never be.
The draw of an ocean the smell of a sea,
The silhouetted Jacaranda tree
The child ...
Friday 15th May 2015 9:31 am
The smell of sex and stale cigarettes, Two bodies connected in life and death, Chapped lips meet between the sheets, Lust in our bones, the Reaper in the air. How rare an oxymoron, neither with clothes on, We follow recreation with deadly inhalation, Skin touching skin, lips wrapped around uncertainty, Two separate entities leaned inwards somehow gently, Feeling so alive, ...
Monday 27th April 2015 10:07 pm
Tags: cigarettes, death, life, love, lust, meaning, oxymoron, reflection, sex
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