I am terrorised for I am my flaws
And I fear I'll never be more.
My mirror melts like words of Eleanor.
My ears bleed, leak by metaphors,
Like an overused *****,
To hear such decor
Of air carved and reformed.
I have, without remorse
Been to words as criminals of war
To the Jews and the poor.
I am mortified that I fear not failure, nor
To be impossibly less nor to be never more.
At least, they can't drain the life from a corpse.

I am at such a point of unemployed and undesired,
That I am turned on at the same time as a lightsaber
And I care more for a Skywalker
Than for ***, money or any other transfer
Between one body and another.
In fact,
The only bodies I plan to explore
Are planets far beyond my ragged claws.

And my window glows the brightest in my room.
Jumbles of jagged jazz jut in through odd nights
To dredge up the New Year with fireworks
Fine December's lunge upon the kind.
Shattered pieces break wine divinely inwards
In memory and boredom
Of sorbent, drenched days.
Where are you?
What's the time?
Old, sore, bent, quenched greys
In fantasies that brought fun.
Scattered leeches ******* insidely innards
I remember once upon a time.
Two dead husks end blue ears with wire ferns
Crumbled into dead glass, cut sinews of time.
Despite shadows, show the finest of my gloom
And my window glows the brightest in my room.
Humbled are the dead God's, shut off to old rites
Few with enough truth to hear conspired words.
Humbled are the dead God's, shut off to old rites

Wine and ember's pop up in this mind
Flatters her thesis. Asks for pieces
With crumbling questions
For a crumbling response

So I know
Canines inspire sheep in herds
To let them flee, a poor one
So sore, went the wrong way.
Where are you?

She came back in the afternoon.
Usually she leaves me my peace
Till after midnight. But she came too soon
And ruined dwindling light through spinning smoke from teas.

Ten songs ago, I saw her sway,
I tasted her cold shoulder and
Came back to receive her reprimand.
I never saw her voice and more
Never heard her face,
Only feeling some embrace
As we danced till twelve.

But she came back too early
I wasn't ready enough, nor strong nor steady.
She took me back to an old dance
And with bittersweet memories
Ruined my afternoon teas.

I always flush the toilet
Before I use it.
An old habit
From years of finding the ****** bit
Before I ever got a chance
To feel relief.

The cigarette circumference
Is smooth against his face
And the smoke clouds precipitate
To tar teardrops. Pooling as a lake.
Before they all evaporate
Like decayed lungs of late smokers.

Last year
I found my uncle in his cave
Starved, greyed by paper embers,
Cursive scriptures and veils in waves.
As fires fade the way December
Eves into days of a brief fatherly presence.

This year,
I hear my cousin's down there too
With our brothers, under that wreath.
Round is the jaw of the their tomb
And jagged are the snaring teeth.
Like thorns that hook against sinew.

Round. Round and round.
They chant "It's not deep enough."
Down. Down and down.
Doomed to look, loom and drown
In tar teardrops.
The smoke lingers.
It remembers
It looms. The fumes and Hume.
How do I accuse
And can we agree
Which cause is true
Of that father's lesson.
Leading to the question,
To wonder if the father
Teaches to consume or fume
With incense or loss of innocence.
That commandment of his example
Vital as the signs displayed in pulsing waves.

A son of some man appears from the cave.
He turns back and sees that ember
Dwindling within.
Then takes a step toward the light.

There was one,
Infinite and singular.
Who split in two.
One was the mother.
One was the son.
One was the father
One was the daughter too.
One pulls strings from the null
And played a tune
So one would sleep,
Dreaming of the song,
Of stars across the dark sky,
And a thousand sparkling eye
To see them through.

My mornings begin with smoke.
The tea leaks with a vaporous lather
And nebulous swirls grey has smote,
As tar dancers unfurl from my cigarette in mixed layers.

But by this ember’s embrace warmer my night grows.
To the side shadows curl and on the wall uncurl,
And for a moment one feels the fire burn away the smoke.
There’s a lingering of fingers and swirling flows
And as trembling sapphires unravel, a semblance glows.

There are remarks and reservations
And promises and expectations
To mingle in the cooling air of Autumn,
And hold things warmer till Summer is again.
The superfluous, frivolous, glorious things
All glitter in the beading sweat,
Yet are vapour in the morning.

The day is made of light
And sounds create the night.
In the darkness, a text
Blinds with meaning, regrets
Inevitable and
Burning with bright command.
To find your flaws in agony
And your faith for better in sacrilege.
Then a jazz melody
And written in it, God's undeciphered passage.
Our cosmos, but a wrinkle on God's side
And so I bargain myself into pain
Again and again
Over a girl of my third eye
And no more.

We snuck up like clouds,
Away from the music
And the constructions site sounds
That rumbled up the hill.
We used our jackets on the wet dew
To keep us warm, to make our soft picnic
And then with just me, the moon and you,
Stole a brief kiss.

September is somnolent in northern Autumn.
When it’s forgotten and forgivable
To drink shadows of *** and swallow delirium.
But not forgiven nor forgettable.
When one can’t sleep for a throbbing dream and the hearts heavy drum.
For September is slumberless in northern Autumn.

Smell the collapsing splashes of our sea.
Through the night air hear the rip which whispers “Come...”
Sound out to spell a joke in memory.
To no one say, ‘I lost my way but once…”
For no one to hear but our waning moon.

Now know the lullaby of falling leaves
Slowly shows a song of things in decay.
Silently the scythe, she cleaves and bereaves.
While with things in adequate disarray
The moon forever falling towards us
Who never touches nor brushes the surface
Will drift away.

Cry for that pain.
To drink the shadows of *** and know shallow delirium.
To think that things are and can’t be undone.

Lad with a mouth, loud lauts gotta shout,
But there's nought profound to be found
In the sound spilling out.

A flicker and a flutter of his platter;
A splitter, a splatter,
Spraying splashing spit dispenser.
Twister, tengo, tempo, soft tongue dancer
Doing the worm to wiggle words into form.
Peter changes with an interpreter
After a translators had their way,
If they so choose.
Define a sign to find value
Not in it's use or what it can do.
So build a statue of Zeus
And put a deus into it like glue.
He misses her kisses, finds lips to replace her
Calls them a name they say on an early date.
They say so much.
Read between the lines to find white
And nothing but.

If you end each day alone, without love,
If your friends have left you nothing but stress,
Look and see the sun no longer above,
See he slowly goes to the west for rest.
Even though darkness will stalk till morning,
He's reborn in a burning, golden dawn.
Breathe in deep before the night and lightning.
Be and become calm. Watch that closing yawn.
A soft view of wind and vapour. Slowly
Afternoon floats and flirts with evening.
But surely turns to be a tapestry.
Fear's woven thoughts forgotten for dwindling
Twilight dances. So daylight's glow diminishes,
As a shadow cast from the West stretches.

I know lonely girl
It isn't this simple, but if you're single,
In love, tell the boy, let him stay or part.
Why not? Must you wait till your last wrinkle?
If he deserves your heart's pieces and parts
He deserves to know what you have to say.
Simply said, since his fire burns inside you,
If you don't let it out someday,
When darkness closes In, it will burn through
And you will regret the light left dwindling.
If only it were easy to confess,
Lonely girl, you could paint your thoughts and feelings
And send it to him, with the secret needed
To see inside, being his love for you.
It's never easy, but it will be true.

My eyes are pressed wet against their lids
Like beans in the pantry
And like a pantry, I'm ready for sleep.

A bird released
Three ethereal notes.
Perhaps it's the briefness
That lets them float.

This joker fell through vats of chemical
Desperation, severely misplaced desire
And maybe a drop of a drink. Too cool
Not to be too rapidly set on fire
When I set my eyes on a mujeres.
I hit on a girl at my Spanish class
But we weren't speaking the same languages.
Worst of all I took it way to fast for us.
My corona, my cheap beer is her crown.
My idioms and her idioma
And the spiciest sauce I can take down
Es simplemente su salsa normal,
Although, she doesn't like her meat so white,
I don't really mind not being her type
Because you can't cry over that each time.

Steal slides silently
To lacerate the tender
Arteries and attack
Bones with a blatant stab.

I'm always happy staring at trees.
Conversations feel violent and unimportant
When no one agrees
On pety little bits and rants.
Poems can grow dull
And music can almost hurt
After long enough.
But trees simply lull me to a pleasure
I can't replace,
To a better place
Right where I am
Beside my friends
The tree and his leaves.

To think artists live what they say
Is as foolish as child's play
Or make believe.

It seems in dreams
That streams intervene
In one another's course.

The scarlets of stars let
Out a louder bang,
The purple fireworks
Dripping as they hang.

I liked her. I guess. beep there's two problems.
First, beep speaks little English. beep would like
To think I beep quite big English. ehem
"Would you like two for one?" "No thanks. One's fine."
I mean we've spoken beep Spanish at least.
I beep that I speak un poquito beep Español.
The beep I seek's unknown to beep.
"Thank you! Have a nice day." Maybe I'm cold,
Desperate for a body to warm me.
There is a stiff breeze in this dark carpark.
Secondly, she's religious. I believe
She'll wait for marriage. So a dates the start
Of some far greater commitment. I mean
My Spanish is Okay, but not ready for eternity.

Take one of those hot days
When it's fun to be mindless,
When thinking's the only way to feel your pain,
So you lose your mind on purpose.

Take a taste of meaning.
Enjoy flying like a limestone,
Stationary until some wise being
Picks you up and your thrown.

Chisel your own name
Into a comments section
For the fame
Of three idiots appreciation.

Take a beer to spare
And spend your life
Dancing, prancing like a mare.
Take some bad advise.

There is, in the bath, not time, but moments
That stretch out with transparent reflections,
So days echo through splashes and silence.
Dreams, memories and conversations
Stream, imaginarily from the tap;
The gushing senses rushing into descent
To dive downwards, down from the gaping gap.
There is, in the bath, not time, but moments.
Fears festering in depths and splashes heard
In this wet pit where memory filthies
Words with worries and shapeless world with words.
Then stand, streaming steam and vapour leaving,
Those thoughts forgotten beyond believing.

Each man I meet,
Each time eyes teach
The colours of characters
Only to have them fade away,
Dissolve, depart and disintegrate,
Just another face on the street.

Soft licks of love
On lips of mine
Which whisper of
Devotion of body and mind,
Remind me of solemn goodbyes.
Just another sweet sight on the street.

Each venture I venture,
Each pain that came,
Each pleasure I endure,
Each rain sustained,
Just another street
Wearing a away where I wear my feet.

I see wet mirrors on the floor
As though skies pooled into puddles.
The reflection shimmers some more
As though sights shown, shone and wobbled.
Water covered tar's ignited
By streetlights' illumination.
Flickers of fire, flame and brightened
Colours of electrocution
Serenely, surreally, softly  
At peace.

Stop thinking I only think
About *** and how to be ****,
I don't like the accuracy.
Stop thinking I only think
About *** and how to be ****,
Sometimes I actually attempt to be.

"I'm not sorry I ate your heart for my own.
I left, carelessly fed the Earth your bones.
To make friends I would cut Medusa's hair.
Speaking as Thor thundered in my chest,
His Cerberus kiss, on cheeks and lips bare,
As Zeus breathed life onto my neck with zest.
From the ribs he pulled my dust weak body.
He the better man who left me lonely.
To you I've arrived empty, to fill night.
I've brought my casual poetry to you,
I need to tire ears to make this heart light.
Heavy is he and I know you'll sit through
Me. I need a voice he's not choked to glee.
I need a line to write, before I fall asleep."

That **** Cupid's at it again.
But this time he hasn't gone for my heart.
He aimed at my eyes and went straight through them,
Getting my brain as well. The **** which was smart
Is permanently dumbfounded.
Oh, to be so brain dead.

I don't mind my life
With an invisible brush
Behind every shade and light.
I like my life
With a blossom and blooming flower
In every manhole cover
And shooting stars
In everyone's headlights
Rushing by like fiery eyes or fireflies.

If there is a soul above,
In the heavens
With veins of silk magic and white,
If he has found me to love,
I don't mind him so much.

And if not, then now is enough,
Enough time not to mind my life.

Autumn comes faintly,
As though it were when sleep, dreams
And first memories of waking
Blur at the beginning of the day.

Charms of Summer
Slowly undone in undulations of Winter
And brief retreats to warmer heat-waves.

Reading on the Ides of March
And the days of May
Here in Australia
April may be the cruelest month
Breeding leaves and weaves of grey cloud
And leaving steps closer to Winter's shroud.

With saps of life
And wisps of nymph whispers
Surely siphoned with scythes of time,
I fear to waste one more of my mortal days
Peering through lifeless greys.

On sordid airs I detect
A sizzling cigarette
That dirtily dizzies me.
The vapour shaped and misshapen
As though the pale horse of Death
Is animated again,
Forcing forth from some lung's depths.
The dizzying diseases released
Onto the city street.

Then passing a Chinese window
Cheap honeys rich in flavour
Seem woven with the air.
Wisps of some Summer, lost
Among clustered years
Covered in moss,
Dangle beneath my nose
And rising up
Almost fills what's hollowed.

But I am busy and must go
The city suffers no one for so long.
So I go on
To the city's dizzying smells,
To leave the moment's spell.

The city smells me.
The tunnels and funneling gutters
The nostrils of this grey matter
The network of working, walking
Men, women and children.
It adapts with new technologies
And the conscience of the street
As the street well knows
Controls me.

Bring forth the hail.
Summon the storm.
Batter my hull with the great waves
Of blood, of tears and sweat.
Break my mast and banish my men who would stand beside me.
I will not suffer surrender.
Beat my body and break my heart.
I have the conviction and I the spirit.
Alone or under the pressure of a thousand masters.
No matter the insecurity of solitude
Or the fear to disappoint.
I will fight.
Bring forth the hail.

They began on soft hills, hairy with grass.
Their hooved soles greeted by soils, brown and green
That were interwoven in the world past,
Before man, with his hideous machines.
But now they tread between the decayed trunks
Of skyscrapers that scatter their own dust
Over waves of tumid wind. Air whimpers
On its way through the streets of rust.
The voice of ghosts echoes into whispers.
The city is gone. The older, colder days
Before man, stir up slowly from rubble.
The wolves beginning to creep through the grey,
Silhouettes projected through smoke, crumble.
Man is now replaced and where he once stood
Wolves now watch on from, the city like woods.

I saw a silver dime.
She reflected my face.
She echoed my voice.
She said something sensitive.
Her every word's set in steel.

Shrapnel pillow lying in the gutter,
How about Heads or tails?
I admit, I've heard tales
Proposing you're a risk.
Both in your bed to rest.
And you're the bed for rust
And dust.

Shrunken moonshine lying in the gutter,
If I plucked you up and picked you
Like a poppy from among midnight dew
Aloft flowers, reflecting your much bolder brother.

Silver fascade, if you're devotion fades
If you discard me, if you turn away
So I may only see your tail.
No, you're right, what a rude question.
If I pick you, like flesh from the skeleton
Will you remain?

I see it's black and I see those pearl eyes
Staring through caverns of caves and darkness.
Though withered, weathered eroded bone lies
Scattered, I must disprove my cowardice.
As it growls, between its teeth I see a furnace
With golden glimmering, shimmering flames.
Ancient and old, slithering tongues whispered this
Retreat, whimper, return to safer games.
This place is made of dangerous pieces
Shattered glass, jades and jewels like jagged blades.
Blood does not prevail, passed my scaled, monstrous
Tail, and men make no echo in deep graves.
Moving my living corpse round the corner,
I ask
Would you leave ashes for your coroner?

There was a light in the clouds.
We all felt it as it came
And forgot it as its sound
Faded, along with the rain.
The smoke cleared its throat and then
Dragon fire precisely struck
All the world at once.

Spring arrives, tipsy with delight.
Fairies aloft a flower bud lift off.
They tickle nostrils, they sing 'Sweet fragrance…"
With such soft whispers. A soprano cough
During a shuffling swing and low tempo dance,
Escapes lips, foreshadowing wet winter.
They float fairly, as all the flowers fall.
Tremors of terror interrupt chatter
Among them. Above, trees, no matter how tall
Shake as though poppies under thunderstorms.
Then it is calm again. Without winds' arms
Jostling and jarring their world. Cold now warm.
Souls simply resolved. Harm is now disarmed.
The fragrance, so sweet and so fleeting.
So impossibly soft. Some real feeling.

Then a soprano cough.

Spontaneously another human sprouts out.
Another hair in the beard of the Earth
Who greys, wanes and weakens.
Only there because they fester too fast
To be shaved off in waves of hurricanes.
Only there to catch food with greasy hands
And a greedy grips to grasp the lands.
Lonely where they spill out.
Homely where the hills represent
An Earth they push from the planet.

Someday, as the night arrives
Glows grow from Afremovs on leaves and blades,
Then they turn to nocturnes after the afternoon.
Birds chirup, chirp and serenade.
A whistle. A wrinkle. A tune.
He prepares strings to sway, persuading air
Knowing, it's his final chance to tame time.
Shadows move through grassy hills' hair.
Finely, he siphons wine and life through lines
Of nylon. His fingers are old, they're cold, yet it seems
Linger long enough for a song, some songs maybe.
His melody akin to dreams.
Maybe a single sound's plenty for eternity?
Eyelids embrace, but black covers not the soul.
His last song, soon lost forever long.

My brother and I
Sit in our uniforms.
A cloud sniffs whiffs of the house,
Shifts and moves on.
My bare feet fricatives
Sound as though a warm afternoon.

Opinions splatter across my mind
Like graffiti on a sign
That gets harder and harder to conceive
But all the more interesting to see.

I've crucified my left hand
And I'm trying to strum a guitar with the other.
In the middle, I could understand
If someone thought my mouth's made to be a gospel singer
But instead it just sighs
"Mum, can you sign this?"
What a sacrifice?
What a waste?
At least, this poem's written online
So it doesn't waste a page
Of paper.

The hour hand swings around to twelve,
Like an executioner's axe
Or perhaps a guillotine
Towards the head of the snake
That feeds upon itself.
The Earth's orbit, allegedly complete.

Flickers of images, she dances
Round and round the embers.

Since this morn, a monarchy fell. To say
"All the king's horses and all the king's men
Toppling wood carvings, piled up like greyed hay."
All the landscapes and shapes of paint, blackened
By an incredulous shadow. "Lights out!"
Cried the wicker man, as the blaze burnt down
The last efforts and thoughts effigies
Can muster. His energies
Exhausted and run out,
Like children's feet over the ashes,
Like the last scampering echoes he heard.

"Burn the embassy.
Shower the embers
Over the Sea.
Recall the sounds of November.
Save for them, no mercy."

Oh! But isn't it a delight,
All flamenco shaped flames
Lifting throughout the night?
All the jokes, japes and games.
Flickers of images, she dances
Round and round the embers.
The Peruvians are bustling,
Stirring up some smoke.
The populous is burning
Tires to make them choke.

Since this morn, a monarchy fell.
Thorns in his hair, ablaze with red,
Burns In the air, unresurrected,
Fumes, firm pillared, piled firmaments
Not faintly reminiscent of Hell.

The great pretentious act of our poets,
Is to believe every line's scripture,
For they're painters with black and white pallets
Simply putting one word with another.
They're lyricists without melody,
But they have one refined, silver blade,
That cuts to the heart, and it's memory.
Universal tides collapsing to glades,
Which can be explored and made beautiful
Not because every stone's overturned,
Not because wisdom nor knowledge make it full,
But by the will that says "linger on these words."
To peel moss from the grave, to burn away
Ash from the corpse, and hear what they've to say.

Far in black, white blooms in an arched crystal
From the last studio light,
Now that the set has crumbled around me.
Now I know what happens
When the youngest children
Are too old for the show and shenanigans.
Santa's long gone and Satan too.
What collapsed this place.
Was it you?
Was it the wind or the waves
That come naturally like the tide,
Or my own accidental hex?
The broken ceiling's
Bones revealing light above,
And just to prove I've lost my mind,
I've begun to write outside the lines
That outline the box
And define the hoax.

The night drew itself across the scene
Like velvet over thin thighs and there was Ursula.
Her face drawn and painted like some artists scheme
Her round eyes the piercing blades of a peninsula.

The awkward moments couldn’t live long for some reason.
"You once told me you feared the ocean."
"That's because there's a place that steals and bends the light and offers no more, but a slithering flowing crystal. That dries and lies ‘I will quench the thirst and drench to drown away the filth’. But only chills flesh into a collection of bumps against the skeleton."
"It's strange to agree on such a particular decision."  
"And yet we agree?"
“We do.”

When it was dark and decayed
I once crawled to the deepest peak
In my heart of rock and clay.
There was a great black sea
Expanding beyond me.

I had been saving a bundle of fireworks
Ready to set them off with a kiss,
As I was told to by all my unsung teachers.
But finding myself so foreign from bliss
I threw the fireworks to the abyss.

Then far up on the surface
A single finger touch my face.
Then from a spark echoed a thunder bolt
That split my heart in half,
A sheen beam of lightning
To ignite…

A thousand sparks of green, red and gold
Danced like a rainbow
No longer segregated to one flow.
Each streaming particle
Of blue through to purple,
Wobbled like feathers on Angel wings
Settling after flight.

I still had to climb back down the mountain,
I still had to do it myself,
But the way was bright,
And I now knew why I should do it.

They played a love song in the car
The wife looked to her husband
The husband glanced back, before looking out far
To the road ahead.
My friend,
A world from her husband
Probably sat thinking of that distance.
They played a love song
And I thought of no one
Because I had no one to think of
As I have for so long.

I seek a sleep so deep the seas seem to shrink
Beside that night, with white, silent, fire to drink,
From dark glasses resembling those trembling hearts,
We sold so long ago, alone in the dark.
The shade of flame and heartache rained like snow tries to.
We seemed to dream, quickly deceived that we'd too
Have these deep histories between you and me.
Sixteen, seventeen and soon we'll see eighteen
Leave. My ages like centuries bereave me,
This lost soul growing old, with no growth to show.
So, I'll seek sleep so deep oceans grow shallow.