studying ancient civilisations
dreaming about being Nefertiti
a Queen with unprecedented power
reading about the god men of great worth
their glorious reigns with women behind
watching the stories told in His Story
Tag: creative writing
Wombatonia
They embraced the illegitimacy of the government’s rule.
Instead of protesting, they created their own micro-nation.
The Lord and Lady of the one-kilometre kingdom fly their own flag with a coat of arms which consists of a white escutcheon, a wombat, and a gold crown.
A Different Sunday
One Sunday afternoon
she left the washing and the cleaning alone,
for the day had changed.
Sipping sweet something
she hummed a tune and said, “Perhaps I will
do what he does for a day.”
When Sunday afternoon
became Sunday evening, her husband asked,
“Where is dinner, dear?”
She looked up and said, “I don’t know. I have
decided to do what you do today.”
Last Night’s Thoughts
Truth be told, the catastrophe began when
I decided to study Law and shun the creative callings.
For sensible people, not fools who cannot get work,
you must study something sensible.
Now, between the desk and the chair, I sit pissed off,
yet grateful to have cats and a roof.
Peace
there is no peace
for my racing mind
all I wish to read
peace is an idea
dangerous to most
anti-consumer
a precious peace
blessed to sit within
the soft stillness
peace follows me
my conscience
echoes of horror
Contrarian
Eating lunch in the park at an odd hour to avoid humans.
While watching the sky and the birds, you would never know that he relished the feeling of discomfort.
Hated by the right and despised by the left, some call him a contrarian, and others curiously independent.
Waiting for Innocence
A clean prison cell with a television, a bed, and the essentials.
Within the four walls, she waits for innocence to mean something.
When they decided “not guilty”, too much time had passed.
Her husband moved on, and she lost all the possessions she loved.
She leaves alone. Now free.
Demise of Strangers
A life-sized cardboard cutout, miniatures of him from every angle, and hourly updates about his life.
Two strangers, yet one had an idolatrous fever for the other.
The obsession intensified until one stranger stalked the other stranger to their demise.
A Nobody
They never noticed such a forgettable person, who always seemed to be hidden in plain sight.
One news outlet said, “A radical and a seasoned deviant”.
With each step, a nobody corrupted the radicals and launched a coup.
Russia is a Season
Alone with thoughts of wars and the sun,
the one human I cannot forget pops into my head
A beautiful, mad mess of character vagaries,
shacked up with some designer labelled Oligarch
All the thoughts of one human seem soft,
the wind picks up, and the leaves change my season
C & K 