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Thoughts

I write, think, muse, ruminate and the words below are just a collection of some of those thoughts. I find poetry cathartic and reflective. I'm not particularly good at it. I feel like my writing is like adult rhyming Dr Seuss. I attend poetry events in Footscray and enjoy listening to others' words. I am still yet to craft words that don't rhyme but I enjoy the cadence of words, the rhythm and tone that comes from your writing voice.

This is what I guess kicked off my love of writing and this is a poem that was read in front of my Year 9 English class. I often imagine what my life would have been had I not been fearful of the future and what my life would have been had I fully followed story and art.

My First Poem

As the sun goes over the horizon

The city hides it shame

Of the children with no bed to sleep

The children with no name

Will they steal, beg, or perform a deed

For the meagre sums of their soul

Blocking out their hearts and minds, just to get a bowl

For the sun rises again from night

And into the morning light

And we the people of the world

Ignore the nightmare fright

Sam's Poem

Heya I have tell you…….. About the creek last night,

The water gushing in the full moonlight

I sat there, closed my eyes

Listened to the tunes,

Healing me from the lies

I’ll see you soon, two black coffees, one for me and two for us,

More songs and some deep conversations….. I think we must

Remember the Coorong, I needed those days

To break the dark nights, and my back pain’s haze

I’m alive again, new life its entered,

I feel re-directed, grounded and centred

Thankyou for this afternoon’s walk, the wind and through the leaf

The Banjo frogs break the silence and bring comfort to my grief

I see your pain, you see mine, we are bonded together,

I’ll be your whimsy you be my mirth, two birds of a feather

I’m so looking to my Tuesdays, I’ll get to see her for that chance

Roma Tomato, my miracle baby, the moment of our dance

I’ll kneel down, gesture her to come and listen close,

Quiet and still, I’ll ask her

Do you want to know my secret most?

“Yes Daddy,” she says, with a curious smile.

“Roma, my love, yes especially you. You have my heart and Daddy loves you”

Finding Me

Churches, structures

Man made things and patriarchy

Loneliness, acceptance freedom then anarchy

For that city, where my soul was born

The underbelly, where my life was torn

Hypocrisy and conservative moralistic ways

Navigating my worth and lost in a maze

Instructed never to return, I rebelled

Shouting my bisexuality, then swiftly expelled

Deemed nothing but a source of trouble

Outside I now see your bubble

You see nothing but a reflection, twisted upside down

Everything you don’t agree, you shut down

I visited home this last week, my first of 20 years

I remembered the pain,

The heartache and the tears

I remember when I was lost and unable to feel

When life all seemed like Dali’s surreal

Instead now my life is living happily thus

I’ve found me and my soul

And I found us

Trips to Mars

The beds are still burning

The rent is still due

Brothers still in arms

Sunday Bloody Sunday too

Billions spent on depths of sea

Homeless children under stars

Instead we folly on trips to Mars

Anger quells,

Fighting never cease

Compassion lost

And hope for peace

Earth and mother cry out in pain

Humanity’s greed

To levels insane

In years to come,

Beyond the struggle

When earth, Its humanity

Have departed

Earth will rest its wearied face

Floating inhabited

In the darkest of space

Icarus's Words

Take my letters, strung together

And fly away birds

Never again

Never to be said

Never spoken my words

Take them away,

Carry them high,

Far beyond my sight

Eagle talons, piercing claws

Please hold them tight

Then under Icarus’s sun

With wings spanned above

Let those words melt letters across the sky

Let them fall

Until I find love

And when the letters fall to earth

I’ll make sure they’re properly scattered

Then one day I’ll string them together

Words

That really mattered

Storm Scene

The clouds form

Like warring factions of an ancient army

Borne in the mountains

Rambling their intent with threatening menace

They roll like like a moving wall

Slowly, creeping forward to envelope the world below

Teeming bullets of rain

Whipping fronds of lightning to the ground

Arcing the surface, welding the elements together

And then silence…..gone and left

The ground soaked, aftercare, subdued and relieved

The Love Bubble

You know the moments, you know them well

As if you were under some magic spell

You know the moments that you will miss

The times in which you felt intimate bliss

She haunts me still, I still remember

Those fires of desire, they still burn and ember

I wonder when, the time will be

When she leaves my thoughts and my heart is free

I hold her still, yet she does not know

That my love surrendered, held in escrow

I hope one day, not long from now

Love released, if I’ll allow

In crowded bars, her gazes I’ll miss

Disappearing into silence with just one kiss

On drunken nights, on adventures had

I’ll miss the laughs and my comrade

Ohh I hope that in days and years from thus

I’ll remember her and remember us

I’ll remember the way we got in trouble

From that wonderful intimacy bubble

Twenty Twenty or One

Twenty twenty, you were a blur

Days merged into one

Sit, stare, drink, sleep, repeat

Dwindling my life into none

Twenty twenty, twenty one

You don’t appear to be better

I ride this rollercoaster of life

From the ups and then the downs

The banality its shown

Interspersed with sharp memories of yearning

Of just wanting to hear my Dad’s voice

His laughter coping, his way of choice

Remembering those days, before the plague

Hard they are to imagine,

Blurred freedom,

The Narcissistic Ache

The fanfare of success, the accolades of many

Often deceive those moments

The songs in our heads,

The tingles of our mind

The dreams in our bed

For we long for praise, our narcissistic aches

To be loved and accepted

Instead our heart breaks

Beyond the roars of many

Muted from the claps of crowds

We lay in bed and breathe, silent and wait

For success is very simple

Its at peace at night, up late

No longer tossing and turning

Thinking what could be

Its closing my eyes this day

And excited what may be

The Artist

By pencil, photo, paint or brush

The artist imagines

By word, by poem, by tone

The writer thinks,

By note, by sound

The musician creates

By twitch, by beat

The dancer moves

A picture never seen

A sentence never spoken

A song never sung

A sound never heard

A dance never felt

The artist creates

What was never before

And what will never be again

Adelaide

Oh Adelaide your streets are wide

Your minds are narrow

Preaching your city of churches

But bury bodies in a barrel

You insecure child,

Named south of the nation

Victorian rivalry you jostle

But a figment of your imagination

I’ve been out now

25 years a life sentence

I see a perspective

Free of the pretence

The conservative values

Sitting with your pioneered privilege, you hold dear

But like the rest of Australia, your wealth

Bought with guns against spear

St Patricks Day 2020

Oh yea this day, this St Patrick’s Day

Burned and etched, forever it stays

I wonder when, it will except

Nothing but drunkenness regret

At 11 today was the call

The voice, the message that changed it all

That moment cried, my brother said

Dad was gone and he was dead

No, no, no, I cried

Dad not dead, he must be alive

Breathe deeply I said, someone lied

It was but a dream, concocted derived

The moments then thus but a blur

Phone calls here, on what Dads’ were

Forty-six I, when he alive

Dead that day, again I was five

Slothful whisky shots given free

Between my son, my lover, three

Tears fell for Carey’s, with no Irish lucked

St Patrick’s Day 2020, will always be fucked

The Tinder Bounty

Ooooh the Tinder bounty, you’re on the hunt

Shocked to see, it gets quite blunt

Fishing trips and tigers to see

Then half naked toilet selfies

Dismayed and frustrated, you continue on

For its Sunday night and a weekend gone

Chocolate, wine, you now swipe left

Online dating has left you bereft

Your soul cries out, where and when

Where have they gone, all the men?

But unlike you, that Sunday night

They’re swiping, swiping always right

Matched again, matched he says

Her name was exotic, something called Chez

Snap chat ears and a glossy pic

Will she like me and like my dick?

Words and grammar, kindest and care

Is it that hard, you begin to swear

For the Tinder bounty, is not yet complete

Convertible sports cars on the street

Monday Tuesday, the feeling dies down

To meet someone out on the town

Wednesday slips by, but shit I forgot

Tinder connections, no matches I’ve I got

Rambling, scrambling, Thursday night

Drunken moments, swiping right

A date, a date I must must get

Alone again or I’ll be left to fret

You match online, he seems exotic

You’re in for a night, you hope erotic

At the bar, you question then

When were his pics taken and taken when?

For the Tinder Bounty, tigers abound

Online dating continues to astound

That pictures used from so long ago

Continue to frustrate and create such woe

The Last of Sundays

These are the last of Sundays

That the Poets of Old lament

Of love and lust and passion

These times, these moments they went

Those days when the world is divided

But together a people of sum

Bound by connection and consent

Say…..we in love, are one

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