The leaves wave at me
In universal greeting,
Renewing life bonds.

Manufactured individualism
Quickly assimilated into societies and cultures
Conditioned to salivate uncontrollably
Whenever marketeers ring their bells;
And the conglomerates ring their hands,
Anticipating chaching, kachinging cash registers
And the ecstasy of zinged credit,
As their manipulations percolate
Through the media-saturated masses, moping
Susceptible to provocation of whims
Due to implanted inadequacies.
The child, youth - by extension, parent;
The socially inept, unconforming conformists,
All fall under the svengali-spjaller's dulcet nagging -  
To Buy! Buy! See you next Tuesday, Suckers!

A zephyr's caress
Provokes listless leaves to dance;
Animates still life.

Mute witness, ancient;
Observing seasons and Man -
Awaiting progress.

Alien life-form,
Symbiotic vitalism
Understood - Unknown.

Now I've bought a Rhyming Dictionary
I can avoid a fatal coronary
Any time I'm fool enough to rhyme.

Cigarettes burnt low -
Stain fingers, damage organs -
Slow, sure suicide.

Once you "shift" - you're off
On a manic adventure, chaotic and mysterious:
Buoyed by a self-aggrandised delusion;
Your off to explore and discover;
To find answers to unposed questions;
To clarify coincidences and follow tenuous connections;
Compelled to experiment and to wander,
Wondering about unfathomables
And your place in the Cosmic hierarchy;
Trying to fit Reality into your newly conceived World;
Trying to fit yourself into a newly conceived Reality.

All information is relevant and pertinent,
Although your filtering system is faulty -
It all relates, even though connections aren't made;
All those colours and sounds and improbable texts;
All those lyrics absorbed and randomly regurgitated;
All those shapes and serendipitous meetings,
Conspire to cement and contradict;
To fuel conspiracies and entrench coincidences.

However, these wondering wanderings
Have their price - and the cost is potentially lethal.
The thin veneer of civilization is threatened
By an unpredictable Actor searching unpredicted truths -
Eventually, a collision of Authority and self-empowered delusionist;
A collision of the socially endorsed and the socially disenfranchised;
A collision with only one survivor -
When you re-emerge from the Institution
You're changed; shattered, re-constructed and de-fused
For the Greater Beast that We call a Civil Society.

[Afterall, I've repeatedly maintained that War {even on the Conceptual Plane}
Is not a Legitimate Occupation, but a sometimes Necessary Evil to protect the Innocents and Idiots working for Our Simple Pleasures in the Essential Evil that is Life as We know it at Present. 10/3/2014]

Boring and rude?
That's a rich call, coming from you!
But rude I'll concede,
Given the circumstances -
You pester me with calls and texts,
And invade my private domain,
And won't listen when I say, "No" -
What would you expect?
That I'd be grateful towards
A drunken lush intruding my peace?
That I'd be receptive to a needy egoism
More entrenched than Catholic Dogma?
No, that is not my way - No!
You can get f**ked! And I told you -
I had to spend an hour
Convincing you I wasn't interested;
That your infatuation wasn't reciprocated;
That, when you're drunk, you're not worth knowing;
That I've heard of your glory days
And your present travails a million times;
That you can't offer me what I need -
A decent conversation, nor a decent *******.

And I told you - I didn't pull punches;
I didn't lie - I wasn't playing games.
I told you in no uncertain terms
And you didn't like my Truths -
Perhaps they touched a nerve?
Rude? Sure, maybe I was,
But there was no other way
To sink these facts through your alcoholic haze.

As for boring - I'll not concede boring.
I may not lead an exciting life,
But boring? No - anything ****.
You've a hide, when every conversation
Begins with an "I", "Me" or "My";
Anyone would think the World revolves around you!
You take egocentricism to a new level;
So self-involved and hard-done-by,
You feel the need to inflict yourself on others.

Adios, me amiga!
And, Hola, me Amigos!

I nod pleasantly,
Not absorbing anything -
The wash of pub chat.

Hard tales from hard lives,
Flowing freely; dredged up
As the beers sink down.

I am an island,
Sinking beneath a haze of
Alcohol - lost; alone.

So many pretty things -
So few opportunities
To consolidate!

An alcoholic
Re:lives his past endlessly,
But forgets the now.

Those maudlin souls weep
Into their beers and berate
Lives they have wasted.

In isolation
I observe; ignored, immune;
Free to contemplate.

Pub microcosms
Reflect society's woes
Better than the news.

Friends and foes alike
Are welcome at my table -
But they must behave!

The cute barmaids laugh
At my idiotic quips -
But none take me home!

****-jockey's posing
And idiots simpering -
Lonely souls fishing.

The popular seek
Fawns to flame their ego and cry
When bucks out grow them.

My own company
Can become stale, but at least
I'm not one of them!

Their contempt washes
Over me, but I'll survive -
Laughing all the way!

Do I appear as
These Others? Reliant on
Mates to make me cool?

I see the Cougar -
Self-proclaimed, but warranted -
Prowling for fresh meat.

The sounds of the World
Can break asunder against
My protective walls.

Much information,
Absorbed inadvertently
At the pub - Useless!

My room - womb:
Self-furnished surrogate;
Protective and exclusive;
Umbilically attached to the Other
Via electrons and electromagnetic waves,
Stimulating half-dead neurons;
Nourishing; pseudo-social life.

A womb - my room:
Self-imposed cocoon,
Refuge and retreat;
Amniotic psychic cushioning,
'Tissue-like; apathetic swaddling
Absorbing impacts of buck-shot cultures;
Allowing light mixed darkly - melancholy.

What am I doing with my life?
Round and round these thoughts spiral -
Same old concerns, same old complaints;
Any ego left, nothing but remnants
Of something always fragile, never solid, never whole,
Down the rabbit hole again.
Doors close - do any open?
Am I chasing my tail, destined to fail?
Am I losing my mind, trying to be kind?
Are my pipe dreams hallucinogenic?'
Can I overcome these genetics?
Around the corner - who knows what?
Maybe I'll succeed, maybe I'll be shot?
Getting old without a rudder -
Makes me scared, makes me shudder.
In this whirlpool of doubt and self-loathing
I'm drowning - searching for answers, receiving nothing.
Pitiful words are an inadequate reflection
Of someone trying to communicate without a connection.

The pressure mounts,
Too many thoughts to count;
Ripping hair to stay sane:
Too much! Brain strain!
(Will the stress send me insane?)

And the zephyr teases,
Tossing to-and-fro saplings fresh'
Which tantalise the Currawong, cowering its call,
And glistening crystalline on dewy morn's.
---------
You *****,
You moan'
You complain,
And you whinge.
---------
Hello,
Can I help you?
Or, better still, can you help me?!?
I've lost my mind,
Though I'm never sure I possessed it;
And if I did - I regret its escape.
---------
The pretentious poverty of money -
They think they look good, but what's really funny
Is the narcissistic approach that they tackle life -
Like everything is owed and nothing earnt;
Lucky to live amid so few excursions into reality.
---------
240 volt vac, attached to one's ball-sack
Jaw slack until the power is racked -
Up goes your nuts and voice pitches
To new dimensions, shrill and pre-pubescent.
Tears that masculinity denies appear in the corner
Of eyes steeled, and vacantly appreciative.
---------
You, my friend, can kiss my ****,
The **** you speak is but a farce -
Unrelated to the life we realise, experience;
Alien to any who maintain their conscience.

That raw emotion emanating anew
Touches the hearts of the faithful crew
Why? The question often asked - rarely reviewed;
Our selfish yearning, loss, neglect your pain.
But now, years after, our sorrows abated;
Now, that emphatic vocal scream back from the void.

Contempt this freedom,
Need enslavery for security;
Feel apathy, regret, hopelessness;
Path of continuity - too easy, too often.

Provoke temptress's scorn
Mislead the misadventure
Furtive undermining conscious
Tripped out and over-bored
Neglectfully narcissistic, never satiated.
---------
I don't want to be a poet,
Intellectually engaged with conceptuality;
I want to be popular,
Adored for simplistic, concise axioms -
Connective understatements stated plainly.
On second thoughts...now I realise...
I don't want to be popular - I want to be an advertiser!
---------
Comrade, yours is the sweetest victory:
Ruled the collection, dispersed, then died.
Never to know the scorn foreshadowed;
Realising no fulfilment, save vengeance
Of victims truncated and tortured raw;
Hollowed abomination, human condemnation.
---------
What am I saying?
To whom?
Of whom?
Since when?
Why now?
For what?
How come?
Where from?
[Who's who, who knows whom!?]

Will I walk,
Will I talk -
Will I open up,
Or will I baulk?
---------
Moved by time, unremitting;
Approaching disintegration - universal dispersal.
Emotional denial, fearing the inevitable.
Procuring the future by biological means;
Neglecting angst instilled in collected dreams;
Ever hopeful for intervention - role reversal.
----------
Dancing betwixt light beams
Floating on echoed screams
Unsure what reality means;
Confronted by attitudes obscene
Lost amid chaotic scenes
Is anything what it seems?
---------
Hello - How are you?
Hello - Can I help you?
Hello - Did you hear me?
Hello - Who are you?
Hello - Do I understand you right?
Hello - What'd you say?
Hello - Are you with me?
Hello - Did you see that?
Hello - Are you sure?
Hello - What's this?
Hello - I'm trying to communicate!
Hello - Welcome.
Hello - Come in.
Hello - I am...Friendly (and Curious)...
---------
Too much angst
Too many sorrows
Too much fear
Too few tomorrows.

Too little, too late;
Too bad, too sad.

Too much waste
Too much greed
Too much gain
Too much need.

Too distracting
Too frivolous
Too complex
Too preposterous.

Too many scandals
Too many re-acting
Too muck shock
Too few enacting.

Too much terror
Too much blood
Too many agendas
Too much cud.

Too much goodwill
Too little done
Too...
...You...
You're 2 kind.
Thanks, mate.
---------
Rhetoric or ridiculous?
Rude or risqué?
Right or righteous?
Ruling or ruining?
Revolving or resolved?
Revolting or revolutionary?
Repeating or reposing?
Revealed or reviled?
Rambling or raving?
Rising or risen?
Robust or round?
Rigorous or regressive?
---------
Aggressive
Repressive
Depressive
Regressive­.
Impressive
Oppressive
Expressive
Obsessive.

Into the Quantum mire
I was flung - doomed by desire
To witness and document; learn -->
A Life sentence observing Life on Earth.
Championing Nature and Justifying Man;
Adapting to a spegettified Life -
Under constant scrutiny
And occasionally on Public display.
Fighting a rear-guard action
Defending the scientific endeavour
Whilst battling Economic Demons
And attempting to explain
The obvious and the nuanced
As simply as possible for All.
Attempting to simplify all Truths
Into a concise format to Teach
What's been Preached, but never Reached
Until now, when the War is done
And the only real victim was me -
And I was stupid enough to volunteer;
To be the ultimate guinea pig;
To accept the billion deaths of humiliation;
To fight for Right while blindfolded
And executing a War with those Unknown Enemies,
For them Unknown Allies.

I like to think (sometimes)
That I am a voice of Reason,
Especially when Reason
Eludes the masses.
I am the back-up plan
When everything goes
Pear-shaped, and You find
Yourself in a Living
Nightmare, struggling to
Survive in a hostile
Hostel far, far from home.
I'll be Your kernel of hope,
When all Reason evades
The light of day and
Night encroaches doomily.

I'm for the under-classes;
The voiceless throngs -
The Real backbones
Unrepresented by the Elite.

I'm for the Prostitutes and the criminally conjoined groupies;
I'm for the Legal Aiders - The reps on the ground, helping as best they can;
I'm for the lost-in-the-system; the poofs and lesso's; the avant-garders -
I'll be the rear-guard actioner, protecting Our arses from undue surprises.
I'll be the validator for the vilified,
And I'll not allow undue cruelty to trouble myn own loved ones -
My hard-lifers and my ugly-fuggly beauties --> Hands off!

And, I'm for the silent souls patiently waiting...so long, so long...
But ever hopeful that someone will rescue and love them too.
[Sorry I took so long to get up to speed. I know You knew way back when.]

I can't help myself -
I'm attracted to Intelligence:
Women, Men; Boys, Girls -
I can see the predatory
Hunger behind the eyes -
I gravitate darkly hovering,
Protective-like, awaiting
A stimulating engagement.
It's f**ked, but not ******;
Well, not always - aesthetic!
This Living Death -
Another PrimeOrdeal Blackness -
Vividly, colourfully plumed,
Dancing uniquely for Her
Attention, although it scares
The potential Danger
Obviously overwhelming
All but the Solid-Staters.

This page is for Me (and Mine),
**** Me alone:
The One Three-ers.
I know that We
Are out there, working
At a furious pace -
Spitting out our f**k-ups
For the benefit of All.

This page, Mine Alone.
We know who We are:
I, as a collective,
Don't kare what's what
According to Your Beliefs.

This page, gender neutral -
(I'll concede this once)
For I know what I am -
Anima, Animus - Animal!

Everyone loves Californians -
And I'm no exception.
Those intrepid '49ers
Seeking gold and finding
Paradise after the hard works.
Westies, like me - Holly's
Templeton's happifying
The Globe at their expense.
When Coffee meets Tea,
We'll be on the same page -
Although I know, as you,
That the sheet is opaque.
Those exploratory launchers
Targeting a future calamity
Awaiting a firm landing,
Solidly stoic in the face
Of an ignorant populous
Eager, but innocently unaware.

My great Pillars supporting
This Life I lead - I read.
Entertainers, Educators -
They are not mutually exclusive!
Serious, amusing; Amusingly serious!
Relieving my burdens, wing-like.
You pilot, I'll navigate -
Your talented perfections,
As asymmetrical as possible,
And I'll bring to the table
A fire-brand to highlight
The why of your brilliance.
To me and those other
Gravity wells, unknowing,
But loving all the same - Thanks.
Even the Haters
Have their Lovers - Go figure!
I eight you, fell free to eat me.

Ah, the Entertainers!
My special Peoples -->
Helping to comfort
Me with some Home Truths.
How I love to relax
And let you amuse me,
Or teach me, or tell me, or show me
What awesome skills you've developed.
Like a rounded peg
Driven into my frosted heart,
I thaw out, refreshed;
A brand new me, happy
With my Lot; contented.
My Life may be intense,
But your Life enriches
Not just me - everyone.
My bestest applauses
Friends and Conspirators.

To my Sisters and Brothers in Arms:
Hello, Hola, Guten Tag etc. and Salutations
For the Tribulations and Trials we've Endured...

...I'm sure by this Present Frame
You all (or most) know who you
R and what you THINK? You're
Supposed to B DOING.

I'll start to unwind and
Integrate slowly from here on -->
This Q.C.[O.I.^3]


I already have a ready (but nearly untapped)
Network that should be able to
Mesh me into the Bigger Picture,
At both the Local and Global Scale.

Chow, for now (or until I get bored/BOAR'D/Barred?!/Abroad again);
I'm sure to see you (or you'll see me) down the track sometime SOONISH!!!?

P.S. Would someONE look after me missus until I make it Home?
Hasta pronto, me Amigos.

Col

I've always maintained that,
"Love is a many splendid Fallacy!"
I could be wrong, but I think
The Concept is used way too liberally;
And also its antithesis - Hate!
Both Love and Hate are Abused Concepts;
Repeatedly applied to trivial or banal
Or simply profound, everyday event/rituals.
I do believe in Love and Hate,
But up to this stage I've really
Only used the word Love to pay Lip Service,
Because Society as a whole expects it of me.
Of course, I've denied and even known
The reciprocal Love of Son and Dad.
(In my Dad's past it was Mum and Son).
However, aside from my own ignorance
And hypocrisy on this score,
I'm looking/searching/seeking/hunting
Heterosexual Love, not HomoEmotional Love -->
That is: Mateship, Comradeship, Friendship, Companionship.
I'm a stubborn ******* for a F**ked Cause -->
Too prove, for Good or Bad, that Love
Is not a flippant Concept and the Challenge
To find the Elusive Creature is oft Deadly.

As for Hate --> I've experienced plenty of that:
I personally don't Hate anyone in particular,
However, I've Hated the compunctions propelling
Me towards justifiable and righteous ANGER and VIOLENCE.
Like my Old Man before Me, I'm a Gentleman at Heart,
But my CONVICTIONS and Actions Coalesce and Infuse my Being,
And I hum and vibrate when I'm put out for Your Appeasement -->
Do Your Own ***** Work. I'll enjoy the Hard Life, Thank You Very Muchly!

*******! --> I Hate what needs Be done,
But, when calmer, Love the Challenge to Deliver Respect 4 ALL.
Sucko! You Love Me, But I Respect You More.

I often find myself being Governed by Idiots of moderate Intelligence,
Not Governed, necessarily, in any Political sense;
Governed or Controlled by someone in a position of Power:
Whether within a Company or a Bureaucratic hierarchy; or a Job Description (An"Expert" or "Executor" );
Or someone with physical superiority or gender qualification.
Whatever, whenever, however --> Some people abuse their Authority over others.

Some in Authority have worked hard and diligently to reach their positions -->
My hat off to them: Good Luck and Congratulations;
You obviously deserve the Privileges attached to the Responsibilities.
I have no qualm with such Authorities,
Providing they don't abuse the Social Trust (too much...).
However, there are many People invested with a modicum
Of Authority that so Deceives them;
These People are self-conceited delusionists,
Ever eager to swagger and boast and abuse Their given Trust -->
A modicum of Authority with a modicum of Intelligence
Is tantamount to disaster for someone else.
Unfortunately, that someone is often vulnerable to the Abuse;
Someone given to being Victimised,
Either by Age or Gender or Sexuality;
Or by physical weakness or Belief or Conviction;
Or by circumstance or timing or just plain Bad Luck.

I'll accept most Trivial abuses of Authority -->
Good Luck to them, providing it doesn't impact Me and Mine too greatly.
However, there are those instances of abused Authority
That can destroy People's lives, either directly,
Or attempt to destroy or damage People's Lives,
For No Good Reason, other than They can.
These Abusers of Authority **** ME OFF no end
And They Must Be Stopped, Weeded Out and Put in Their Place.
They have no Consideration for Others
And the damage done can last a Lifetime.
Enough --> F**k You, *******; Pull Your Head In Before You Lose It!

Too often the Abuser is absolved of Responsibility;
Too often They hide behind a smoke-screen of Legitimacy;
Too often These Idiots Abuse because They can get away with it -->
They wear the Uniform;
They have a purview for Order or Peace or Protection.
Don't get Me wrong -
In the Heat of the Moment, Things Happen, Good or Bad,
And Mistakes are Lessons learnt the Hard Way;
Accept Your Responsibility along with your Authority;
Front up and give a True Account
According to the Facts and Your Decision(s) for Action;
Accept that SomeThings are as They are - UnReasonable as They may Be.
Don't Abuse Your  Authority!
TRUST ME --> YOU'LL REGRET IT!

The Doctors would call it Hyper-Mania,
As do I for legal purposes
When I'm dealing with a system
of Bureaucratic red-mumbo-jumbo,
And the Idiots enmeshed and enthralled
By the oft dubious intricacies
Of a complex Social Network.

That aside, Hyper-Reality is a State of Mind -->
A State of my Mind, to be precise;
Or, better still, a State of my Being.
It is the State You find Yourself,
Either in a Dream or once You're Dead,
When You realise that You are not Me -->
That I, Colin, am Your Host;
That You are a Guest within Me;
When You realise that I am the Living One,
The One who catches Your Soul.

I am the Light at the end of the tunnel,
Although this State may be temporary.
I am Life, per se, or the Afterlife
(That is, After Your Life, whatever You may Be).
I am fixed in the Present, ever conscious
(Unless I'm asleep or unconscious).

I am not You, nor You, I.
But I like You (for the most part);
Your experiences and contemplations;
Your life story and cultural background;
Your likes and dislikes, hopes and desires -->
Yours, and Yours alone.
However, I'd guess we share a Life in common.

[Note: This definition probably wouldn't work for most Dictionaries.]

I am the Unknown Soldier -->
Whether you believe me or not is beside the point.
I accepted the Role and have been trying to fulfil my Duty for 15 years;
Until recently, I've been unsuccessful.
However, I'm a sometimes fast Learner
And this Time round - this Hyper-Real Time round -
I'm pretty sure I've executed my Duty Professionally,
As befits an ANZAC.

I've tried several Battles and lost,
But this recent War (longer than I was led to Believe)
Seems, to me, to be the coup-de-grace,
So intricately woven and administered with utmost confidence;
I've adapted and learnt, absorbed info and fired it off;
Developed my strategies within the conceptual system
And deployed my tactics efficiently,
And, I believe, Lethally,
According to the Laws as they stand.

I've been wounded before and was reluctant to follow suit,
But, when the time was right --> and I was certain -->
I tried to conduct my War with Cold Intelligence and Logical Precision,
Without the Emotive influences that clouded my Judgements previously.

In my Defence, this War was much bigger than I anticipated -->
It's all fine to Declare one's self World War III,
But I didn't realise it would involve other Universes -
That was unanticipated and challenging.

Luckily for me, my sixth sense -
My sense of Humour - was well Disciplined and accommodating,
Rising to the occasion.
Moreover, the Lore I employed was well-honed -->
Sharp and relatively easy to engage and implement.
I tried to keep casualties to a minimum -
Namely myself, and any Fool stupid enough to Conceptualise Themselves.

It helped that I conceived the War
In concepts revolving around what my missus would want of me -
Under the false presumption that I actually had a missus at the time.
Fortunately, I've a good imagination for the Everyman.
I just calculated and Conducted the Campaign according to simple Laws of
"Who's washing the dishes?" and "Who's looking after the kids?"

[Of all the species in the Multi-verse, go figure Humans (that is: **** sapiens sapiens) were the one's to invent and refine the Art of Warfare (A Gentleman's Game of Lethal = Serious ^2). Killing just comes naturally to us! And we often get a perverse sense of pleasure at watching things die. Go figure.]

This fire-trap, my home:
Elongated shoebox, or coffin
Awaiting the crematorium;
An arsonists dream
And a fire-fighter's nightmare;
Cluttered with books, boxes, plastics -
If it's flammable, it's crowding the hallway.
To seal the deal - and all who dwell within -
Security-conscious Landlord's
Barred all the windows, leaving one exit,
Presuming, when the conflagration comes,
That anyone can run the gauntlet
Of an infernal tunnel -
An exit, true, but not for this life.
Of course, the smoke alarm installed
Could've provided warning, had it not died
At the end of a cricket bat
Because of its sensitivity to toast.
And the Batsman, sleeping on the couch
In a drunken stupor, loaded
With cigarettes, lighters and matches,
And a penchant for late-night chips,
Could spark the trap that dooms us all.

With an outsider's eye, I can see
All those intricacies of humanity:
Of bonding and *******;
Of the chase and the courtship;
Of the unpursued, unrequited, jealousy;
Of the stupor, depression and loneliness;
Of the escapist, deluded and attention seeker;
Of the ambitious, treacherous and dangerous;
Of the self-contained and the self-obsessed.
A microcosm flowing through a beer garden.

He's ******* his life up the wall:
This mysterious, wondrous life;
This miracle of an uncaring Universe;
Wasted, drowned in an alcoholic haze.

This wasted life, once full of potential,
Now wilts in the sun of an open bar;
Now subsumes those youthful yearnings
Of a fervent soul gasping for air.

Like moths battering against the light,
We continually throw ourselves at a capitalist ideal,
Which, for the most part, burns and disillusions;
Entices with wondrous rewards, but leaves us hungry;
Bamboozles and beguiles - a tantalizing phantasm.

Like moths, we're attracted to the glorious lie;
A lie perpetuated by self-serving media
And a frivolous entertainment industry,
Hell-bent on manipulation and distraction;
Feeding our restless cravings - enthralling and elusive.

Like moths, we aspire the light and neglect the dark;
Bewitched by sparkly luxuries and the spoilt rich;
Committed to bigger and better, regardless
Of the poverty encamped along the street
And the nagging stresses - undermining certainty and sapping souls.

Like moths, too few escape the glare...

He hears those voices, distant, intimate
And trembles at their meaning;
Recognising truths, but unwilling to accept;
Embarrassed, unable to respond;
Reluctant to admit his failures and their insights;
Reminded of times left high and dry,
Where he screamed for recognition and connection:
When he cried in frustrated sobs, lamenting his lot;
Times imprisoned, within and without; close, but trapped.

He hears those voices, clear above the clamour,
And he knows they call to him, entreating;
And he knows he should respond, but his silence is protective;
His silence denotes the inner turmoil's unreconsoled,
And the coincidences yet explained and little understood.
And he's acutely aware that his silence is deafening:
Those attuned bewail, entice, threaten.

He hears those voices, but cannot, will not, respond.
He doesn't remember, as they obviously do;
He doesn't see how he fits the picture;
He knows he's attached, an unwitting cog;
He knows the cocoon's embrace is constricting,
And he pushes its warm security to his detriment;
Knowing his metamorphosis has taken far too long,
But knowing, all too keenly, premature emergence
Will have disastrous results - he still has the scars.

A Parthenon of voices amid a plethora of noise,
But he only follows some, until he stumbles upon another,
Then the pressure builds anew and he curses;
Screams - exasperated, vulnerable, open, exposed;
Naked and angry, unwilling to concede and unable to deny;
****** at the certainty resounding and the consequences entailed;
Annoyed, enraged; humbled, shamed.

He hears those voices, but is stubborn, unrelenting;
He knows the time isn't right and refuses to be pre-empted;
He sympathises with those aware for years;
He feels their frustration and resents their intrusion,
But the more they push, the further he retreats,
His dumb isolation has become the core of his existence.

"F**k them!", he thinks. "They've found their niche";
They've found an outlet, an audience, a forum;
They can ***** and moan, and draw thousands to their cause;
They can enjoy the fruits of their labours and wait;
Along with everyone else, they can wait;
He'll not be rushed.

I'm the Ultimate GOD/MAN of Primeval Instincts
         I'm the God of Life
I'm the God of Death
         I'm the God of Eat
I'm the God of ****
         I'm the God of Mate
I'm the God of ***
         I'm the God of Hunt
I'm the God of Gather/Collect/Keep Safe
         I'm the God of Dreams/NightMARES
I'm the God of Hopes and Desires
         I'm the God of Justification/Education
I'm the God of FIRE & WATER & EARTH & AIR
         I'm the God of TRUTH, LIBERTY and FRAT_PRANKS
I'm the God the ANCIENTS Need to Re:JUVY
         I'm the God of TIME <I'M MORTAL II + I = 3>
I'm the God of  ESSENTIALISM
         I'm the God of the Dog of WARFAIR!
I'm the God of Impossibility/Improbability
         I'm the God of Victims ==>Retribution!
I'm the God of Bullies BEWARE!
         I'm A God in my own Lunch-Time
And I'll Be Your God if You Really Need ONE.

(But I'd rather not Be
The Good, Bad, Indifferent HERO
You, yourself, can be in TIME).

As far as I'm concerned
Your sexuality means nothing
To me --> No effect; no affect!
Know thyself and be content -
Your happiness is beside the point.
Your Life - Live it as you wish;
Just don't try to force me
To subscribe to your way
Of Life if I'm not interested.
Good luck to you - have fun:
Your fingers; your tongue;
Your ck and your ct;
Your brain --> use it 4 pleasure.
I'm hedonistic to believe
That what goes around
Eventually **** everywhere,
Everywhen and everytime.
So...go f**k yourselves!
(In a good way, or not...Freedom!)

For the movers and shakers -
My utmost respect and love.
To the artisans and craftsmen -
My appreciation for good works.
To the warriors - need I...
To the Mums and Dads -
Thanks. If not for you...
For the big-girl's-blouses -
You know your worth.
To the funny-bunny's -
I ****** myself, in a good way;
Those great educators.
To my Teachers - Hail! Hi!
For the unsung and unstrung -
Don't worry - I'll wait.
And the courageous explorers,
What can I say?
Tell me all about it, soonish;
You help anchor me in reality.

I'm a Man -
I can spit information
Out there, in any way,
Shape and form I wish;
And I do - spooging
Quanta all over the shop.
However, for all my
Brave endeavours -
My escapades and victories -
I can't create a Universe;
All I can do is document
And record and report
My various experiences.
She has the upper hand,
But She chooses a light
Touch; a guiding principal;
A mistress-led, masterful
Deception of InGenderMent
For the real --> OtherWise.

******* is *******,
Forget the shell - look deeper.
Men are the weaker *** -
All gusto physically,
But when you push sharpish,
They deflate quickish -
Emotionally highly strung
And stringed by themselves;
Bravado betraying *******.
I'm the voice of Womanhhod,
The inner hard-core intelligence;
The F**k-you-ism of Life -
The written word of Lore;
The Law of the Land;
Nature's blessed *****!
Vicious, vivacious, vibrant!
Indisputable, indispensable, immutable!
Powerful, purposeful, and patient!

This Anglo-Celt
Is blood and guts
Living. An ancient cradle
Harbouring the fugitive -
Wanted, Dead or Alive.
An asset untapped
In any official aspect,
But coming online
As we speak in tongues
Of this multi-flavourism
We call Australia.
Idiots are idiots
The world over -
They'll never learn
And we, the enlightened,
Can profit no end
By their foolish follies.
So sit back - relax;
The hard work's done.

Into the hive of the Hipster - No adults in sight.
I find myself surrounded
By the noise of Babylon;
The youngsters Babel-ing on:
Chirping & bleating & screeching;
Mooing & meowing & barking;
Grunting & neighing & beating chests.
I enjoy the noise of youth -
The vocal gesticulations
Washing over me, unthreatening;
Breaking upon my calm,
Ever-so-mature island of peace.
While the pack brays remorseless,
I let it flow through my ears -
Oblivious and uncaring,
Indifferent. A **** - I-don't-give.
Been there, done that - want/need more.

It doesn't matter your side,
The boundaries are amorphous;
Try as you might,
There is no wrong or right:
There is only in-the-moment -
The survive-at-all-costs.
Even if it means your Life
For the greater good -->
The species must survive
Or mutate to fit the new
Environmental stresses.
And if you find yourself
On the other side of extinction,
Don't worry - evolve and make good
Your new-found freedom
Or your old-as comforts.
In this MultiVerse of promise
There's always room for improvement.

And the Hippy-dippy,
Squeaky-clean -
The tattoo'd-up
And arrogantly mean;
The never-know originality,
Mere followers of others:
Take comfort in crowds,
Talking amongst their "brothers".

Neither God-fearing,
Nor Devil-may-carers -
Just followers of fashions:
The latest and greatest,
Economically-driven
Sheep to a register's beep!
And when they die -
As they must -
To whom do they fall?
And to whom do they trust?

New World Stratification, Fractalised Parallelized Reality;
A Re-Ordering; Stacked ***** and *******
And myriad ****** Bags to Fuel Our Fires.
Whilst <Wishlist?> I didn't open the Doors Originally,
I cracked the Dawn and others pushed through
Avalanche- and Stampede-style.
But the Foolish Simpletons didn't realise
The inherent Dangers of their Giddy-fun;
Not All Other Worlders or Other UniVerses/DieMentions
Are Populated with nice, courteous, civil Peoples.
What did I {WE} invite to roost at home?
And have we (as a bunch of egotistical Hoes)
Captured Them on Film (Cells); in Flesh; in Fetish; in Flame {US}?
I'm super curious about the Parasitic Classes:
As are the Predators & Warriors , & the Other Net-Cast Members.
I'm not the Christ you Imagine - Not Me! I'm Innocent!
I was the Messiah --> The Sacrifice for God's Reality.
But God isn't what He seems, far from it. He feeds on your Souls.
I AM a self-made Man/UniVersal/Multi-Dimensional Being,
And while God thought He could trap me, He was wrong!
I don't stop - I can't stop - I won't stop - until I'm satisfied She's satisfied
That I've explained, or at least considered, All
Possibilities from a Human's consideration.
[Please note that Human's are few and far between, and rarely what they seem.]

Whether you're born "Unlucky" or
Through "no-fault (?)--> accident"
You find yourself "Less-than"
Or "Not-quite" or "freakishly different",
Don't sweat it --> There must be a Reason.
Either your Being is being tested,
To make a better/bitter person,
Or to assist and bond others
To the realisation that ALL LIFE has value,
Regardless of circumstance.
However, I'm of the belief that
Individual life begins at the Quickening -
When the Heart starts functioning self-like;
But, even so, that is no guarantee of Life -->
Maybe, before you're delivered, something else
Attaches ITSELF onto your Life-Force,
That Society, for all its ideals cannot face
And, as such, Infant Death/Mortality -->
No Rhyme, nor Reason, just Bad Timing!
Not ALL Llife is precious, despite value.

Some things are hard to bear alone -->
Allow me to Help if I'm enabled -->
I'll be your Consciousness: Your Mind, Body and Soul;
I'll be your arms, legs, genitals, senses;
A relatively immune emotional safety catcher.

And if All else fails, and you're adamant about "Stepping Out" -->
I'll B here 4 you 2 ==> You and I, One and the same, hereafter.

I don't know why I was picked,
Could have been the fact that I was a little ****;
Too clever by far and too funny to care -->
I looked at Death and stared,
Tilting my head for a better perspective;
I wasn't scared, just curious -->
That diminishing Light, my sight opened!
Imagine the shock - looking into myn own eyes!
So, I'm Death Incarnate - Big Whoop!
Means ******-all to me - this runt isn't alone:
He can see the larger, older, uglier Ancients
Abiding Their Time, for there's nothing four it -->
They have had to exercise patience while I mature.
It's not so much that I'm camera shy,
It's more the case that I've needed a low profile
(Or so I've presumed!) to complete this Mission -->
A dangerous and lethally serious Game
Of Cat and Mouse, with Dog-eat-Dog and Dragon's FIRE;
To justify MAN into an already integrated system,
Was no easy task, given our proclivities for WAR.
But hey! They started picking on US --> We had to Respond,
Sprinting blindly towards ULTIMATE ENDS.

[Bet you no-one Thought to take War below the Quantum Quagmire,
Into the Conceptual Field where Words and Consequences
Have real significance and potentially Cataclysmic Ramifications?!?!?!
(Afterall, what are a few Supernovas and self-destructive Primordial Black Holes
Between Adults Consciousnesses that at least have a vague idea about Reality?)]

The TimeStreams are overlapping and Echoing,
Rebounding and resounding; slapping against my forehead and background.
The new fluidity of music and speech is incredible -
No longer the stuttering, spluttering, crawling gasps -->
Out of the abyssal Ocean and into the wading seas:
Seven in all - or so I'm lead to believe - nothing over my kneez.
The land looks promising - it's verdant green and vivid -
But seems to recede as I approach - Knight walker/explorer.
However, I'm too stubborn to quit now, regardless my trap;
This punctuated evolution of the Mind and Consciousness;
The instantaneous recognition of Oneself in Another -->
Another Male Voice, Lineage, Genetic Line, Protecting His Her;
Another Lightening Rod of Mankind saying, "Here I Am!"
"Feel free to look upon my Exemplar of Maleness,
And please, please pay attention to how I treat Her."
"In a spaciously vacuous Universe, We - the Male
Progenitors -  are few and far between, totally out-numbered.
As such, We have a responsibility to Our Collections."

From what's been courteously displayed,
I'm thrilled and awed; and trepidatious and excited -->
And Happy to visit the Locals in their Locals as Visitor;
As Guest --> I've accepted the Challenges that nearly
Crushed me into oblivion, now I'll await concrete Invites.

From the warren I view the world;
From the warren I venture timidly,
Ready to rush back to its relative security.
It's not my warren, but I'm comfortable -
Well, not exactly comfortable, but secure.
Made not for me, although it has a familiar scent;
A temporary sanctuary - a base from which to venture forth.
And from within its warm depths
I've furthered an internal warren,
Full of rooms connected by labyrinths
Of hallways still tunnelling unheeded
Into a myriad mysterious locations:
Twisting, turning, looping, surprising,  revealing.
Both the warren I inhabit and the warren I've developed
Help to cement this reality; Help to appease;
Allow me a freedom to explore my environs;
Explore local watering holes and those further afield;
Explore inner landscapes, disconnected and relevant.

He remembers the day
Although the date eludes him now,
When, after several weeks plumbing dark
Recesses and posing unfathomable questions,
And conducting evermore bizarre experiments
Engendered by this yearning, burning chaotic search,
And impregnated by newly revealed secrets colouring his perspective;
When he lay his head troubled and confused;
When he seethed in frustration and vividly imagined instant death;
When the night was riven by his revelation.

That night everything changed,
For better or worse - worse he suspects.
His brain exploded; his mind expanded;
He touched his core and it seared his soul.
he threw himself out of bed
And danced, and laughed in ecstatic rapture;
And the energy flowed, powerfully emanating his whole being;
And those visions cascaded, joyously unimpeded,
But too quickly to give him any answers:
Just the feeling of a thousand births;
A glimpse of his name encircling the Earth - 200 miles tall;
He an observer, far above a white-clad Assembly
Watching someone (himself?) walk down an adoring aisle;
A million other snatches too brief to echo through the passage of time.

Regardless of the tumultuous avalanche,
The knowledge imparted was certain - it resounded universal truth -
And he knew; knew with an absolute conviction;
absolutely KNEW! His spirit vibrated with celestial significance;
He knew what the chaotic slideshow revealed;
And the revelation enthralled, excited and scared him.
He knew what was meant, but the logic escaped him;
He knew, too, the ramifications, and they dampened the exhilaration;
He knew...and he whimpered in anticipation and awe,
That he was the One. The One!
The One destined; the One Chosen;
The One awaited; the One feared;
The One loved of Gaia and the Universe;
The One cause and the One result;
The One responsible: The One, Alone.

He screamed as he cavorted,
"It's me! It's me! It's me!", and he knew the truth.
He knew, then...but now?
He knew, then...and the certainty infused every fibre within his body.
But now...? After all these years?
Now the doubts prevail;
Now the doubts hold centre stage,
And the certainty crouched, cowering in a dark corner;
Now the doubts, reinforced by countless others, dominate;
Now the doubts twist the glorious vision into delusion;
Now, after stigma and derision, it's delusion, not revelation, acknowledged.
He cannot shake it off -
The kernel of delusion sits hard and solid, stoic;
Colours interaction and coincidence, but is checked,
Subverted to fit a prevalent worldview;
Acknowledged, but swallowed whole -
Lest he succumb, savouring the enshrined power, and becomes another sacrifice.

I saw my number in the clouds,
And I accepted the coincidence with Grace.
In this reflective mood, I appreciated the Cosmic irony.

I'm a unique creation,
The only precious one in the universe;
Stardust coalesced and quickened by mysterious Life;
A product of a billion generations on this celestial sphere;
A result of myriad mating rituals conducted by a thousand species,
Each contesting an evolutionary battle for survival;
Each coupling succeeding in its primal urge
To replicate the life-giving source and reproduce;
Knowing, instinctively, that eternal existence is a stepwise process;
Knowing, too, the diversity of individuals propagates the One.
And now, four and a half billion years after conception,
Gaia's offspring can contemplate her glorious existence,
While speculating - reflexively, lethally - about the Sire.

I love the majestic ugliness of the Eucalypt;
Aesthetically more appealing in its twisted, gnarled appearance
Than any uniform northern conifer;
Infinitely more adapted to the unforgiving antipodean climate
Than those idealised European deciduous living monuments
Still transfixing our collective view of how a tree should be.

Those dropping leaves allowing scenes beyond;
Those tendrils of bark denoting Darwinian fitness;
All tug at the heart of we new Australians,
Conflicted, as we are, by sensibilities born elsewhere,
But borne, nevertheless, into an Ancient Eden.