A Life in Strings

Born from silence on the vibration of little strings your young life gathers tempo.

Childhood days by the pool become teenage nights by the sea.

The notes of life flow through you and gather pace, as the wind whispers of love’s first blush.

Feelings set in on the vibration of louder strings, then gather momentum as the notes move into place.

Love takes over, becoming so loud that your heart might explode.

Then it’s gone: You know what it is to be an adult now.

Sadness sets in as the strings slow down and you learn to pull yourself apart.

Then the notes of life gather pace, and you wish for the sea to dash you against the rocks, for your heart might explode.

Pain moves along the strings, as thoughts of darkness and light ebb and flow.

Now you know who you are, as the strings soften and life gathers pace.

Then the strings grow so loud. You can’t understand what the vibrations mean, as you struggle against the tide and the sea holds your heart.

You see him standing there. You’ve never felt this way. Your whole heart of strings vibrates, for you have found your soulmate.

Changing Landscapes

The vision is not that of the city;
Those lights do not shine here.

Instead, there are hills of green;
A cow moos in the distance.

At night the darkness is quiet,
as the rain touches the structure.

I thought I’d miss your charms,
as I think of all the things I could do.

Yet, when I lived as one of you,
I never did most of the things I could do.

Tempted to become a hermit,
I resist with both hands stretched out.

Yet in my heart there is turmoil,
for I didn’t come from the concreted hustle.

I’ve felt the land for most of my life,
yet I’ve resisted the call every single time.

Looking towards the rain covered green,
it might be time to embrace my truth;
I’m not so in love with the city as I once thought I was.

The Moody Sun

the sky holds the bad-tempered sun
in one of those moods,
the dry land is burning

humans walk along in a forced daze
animals take shelter
birds steal old chips

the firey winds blow through the cities
new hairdos flee freely
cracked lips are now “in”

winter white skin turns bright lobster pink
different pigments burn
natural tanners strip off

burning hell is the new spring so it seems
bushfires strip old towns
heartache echoes loss

from out of nowhere he moves so freely
sunnies for Mr Cool
Donning linen luxury

moving in a slow saunter to defy the sun
the sky looks down
wishing for the rain

the clouds see their chance to multiply
little wisps of white
now fat sooty beasts

the sun cracks it, but the storm will arrive
retreating in a huff,
as the clouds explode

Lost at 3 am

Your face comes to my sight

I study the beauty of you

Your face takes me into the light

I take note of your face

Your face shifts before my eyes

I slip into another place

Your ghost pulls me into the abyss

I see, then become whole again

You helped me find our light and love

I get lost at 3 am in words of you

You want me to write the story of us

I will write about when you were the Pharaoh


I was your gold and bronzed queen of the Nile

Imaginary Drug

You’re like a drug when
I watch you on the screen.
You make me believe I
could fall in love with a block
of unkempt cheese.

Dude, how did you do it
to yourself and to me?

Unattainable folks with cash
and bad haircuts,
but you’re a bit nonplussed.

My feet tingle as you hold
that piece of plastic in your
hand, but how old are you really?

You’re fucking the cardboard box
of my life with a blunt knife,
but I don’t really care how you do it.

Continue to undress in irony,
or act like your the ultimate corporation as you place your name on every plaque.

Whatever the case, dude, you’ll be using a walker soon and I’ll be wishing I’d said something nice to the lady down the road before she died from a pinprick.