Standing proud, rustling Yielding to pressure Filled with love Of dust and blood
The heavens call Send a messenger Glowing, hot, sere He takes his toll
All left is asunder Broken and withered Clinging to life Waiting
The soul splits Racing downward The spirit Soars Leaving a legacy
Solar flares, blankets The land, in a warm shroud Darkness moistens the air Returning life to a broken heart.
LIVING WITH POLAR BARES
NEEDS WORK
Exploding mind Shards flying All directions
Fantastically clear Insightfulness Focused thought
Searing terror Laying bare Forgotten spectres
Light descends Curtailing vision Calming
>>>
Fleeting glimpses Of estrocheons Stealing sound
Noises harken Extolling nuance Semaphoring
TVs talk Straight Messaging
Phantoms lurk Telling stories About me
Grounded reasoning Provides pathways Calm treads.
ABOARD THE DOBBIN Garfield arrives at a Pearl of the Pacific Docking by the clock Onto the Dobbin Scarred by shells That were not of pearl
Surviving the attack Dobbin floats morosely Mopping up the blood Of a new war
You cross the Equator as a ‘Pollywog’ Out the other side As a ‘Shellback’
The Pacific jewels galore
Under attack by pygmies Sydney, sitting idyllic In its harbor splendor Unhearing ripple Under the waves Breaking free From their mother’s Apron strings
Furtively shadowing hulls Underneath then through Webs of conceit Designed to snare
Suddenly, scoping the scene Watched by the Dobbin Conning the enemy Unleashing Cold tubes of fire
.■•.fcr some, lucky for me – eg’etfully j
MISTY DAWN – MISC LIFE MI
Headlong into the maze, of Early morning snarl Drivers trapped On empty pavements
Caution thrown to the wind Chopping and changing Searching for places Left by the tail
Surviving, cooped like hens Squirming for a spot Parading in lines Seeking sanctuary
Checked
Snakes creep slowly, forever Wandering voices lilt and smile As trepidations of machines Looms
Ghostly images reveal Jumbles of fermented minds Seeking a way past Languid solemnity
NORMALITY
Calling an apple a peach Is not normal Unless you are a fusion chef
Call a lie a truth Is not normal Unless you are a kook
Calling daylight night Is not normal Unless your are blind
Calling a blonde, brunette Is not normal Unless you are a chemist
Calling black, white Is not normal Unless you are an artist
Calling Loas, Loa Is not normal Unless you are a geographer
Calling life, death’ Is not normal Unless you are poor
Calling a, b Is not normal Unless you write poetry
PEACE POEM – THE COMING TIDE (OF LOVE)
Scuttering Like black leaves Fighting the wind
Seared faces Clumped by anger Fright, fear
Seeking martyrdom Hands empty Chests full of Bravado
Lightly she descends Embracing evil Clasping good Melding
Marriage is a bit like Driving down a never-ending Strzelecki Track In a chariot Pulled by two motor cycle
It’s not like a houseboat Propelled by two Matched, 6hp Evinrude Nor is it like A deeps sea racer Powered by two Whopping big, finely tined Black Torpedoe
No, typically One cycle is A big hurly 4-stroke Harley Belching, smoke And sounding like A thousand bees With sore throats
The tother is likely A finely tuned 2-stroke model Bright pink with Black trim Zipping along As toey As a spring doe After the snow has melted You start on the track With a simple rig The two bikes A draw bar & axle Flat bed And minimal provisions
Once the send-off is over The fun begins Have you ever tried Driving a chariot Pulled by two cycles?
‘That’s the bloddy throttle For god’s sake Don’t just sit there Looking at the scenery We need to get going”
Once on the run Things seem great Then A corner “Bloddy hell Help me get this Stupid chariot back on the track
Here’s what we’ll do On the next corner I’ll say left That means you throttle back That will get us around”
“Alright, get ready Corner ahead! Now ‘right’ Bloddy hell Why did you throttle back I said ‘right’ That means I Was to throttle back”
“I got confused I thought you said I need to throttle back On corners”
But life can be good “Let’s take on of the bikes On a sidetrack We can ride tandem You drive, I’ll pillion you”
“Go faster, we’re coming (to a ridge) Now, slower for a while, Come on (now!) We’re supposed to be Doing this together Wait, it’s time Push, push I’m on the brink (of the ridge) Wow, wasn’t that GREAT!”
Back on track A junction looms ahead “Go left” “No it’s right” “STOP! Let’s work this out It’s left, look at the map” “It’s right, the map’s WRONG!”
“Here’s what we’ll do Let’s unhitch You go left I’ll go right Let’s see who’s right”
“NO!. That’s how you Die in the desert We need to stay TOGETHER Or we won’t survive” “Alright, let’s bush bash For a while Between the two tracks Until we can decide Our way” Part way down The track You realize That the chariot Has grown Now, it’s like a 47ft Jayco Expander That’s a lot For two old bikes To pull
By now The bikes are dirty Caked in mud Scratched all over The piston need A good ream The spark is missing It’s time for A complete overhaul
“What do we do? We are never going To get to the end Of the track Unless something CHANGES!”
Let’s ditch the Expander And buy something Like we started with Just you and me And a little chariot
Even so At the next River crossing The Harley took on Water And seized
Luckily, the other rider Knew what to do She kicked-started The Harley And it sparked Back to life
Our riders are now Nearing the end Of the track The two-stroke starts Coughing & spluttering
They ease forward For a few more weeks With the Harley\ Taking most of The load
Eventually It too starts to Lose power
The BIG HIL The LAST DUNE The FINAL HURDLE Looms ahead “Try and keep going There’s an oasis On the other side Hot bore water Lush vegetation And a shop selling Cold Passiona”
They try But can’t best The dune They try again But roll back To the bottom
“It’s time It’s been great Hasn’t it?
We’ve done thousands Of miles TOGETHER Crossed hundreds of dunes Forded raging rivers Sucked dust And braved storms
The life partners Lay on the bed Of soft sand And wait For the sun To rise In the WEST!
Life follows Songlines 