age shall not define me,
never has,
i was born with old eyes.
now my joints are playing
catch up.
but my mind ever childlike
and carefree.

acidic
tomatoes
sunshine's fruit
sliced thinly
on crusty
olive bread
bursting now
on my tongue
simply
taking me
to heaven

even in the midst of sadness
the universe gives
you cause to laugh

sitting in the park
watching a tiny Chihuahua running round frantically
marking the whole world
as his....

got to admit he has big dog
dreams......

now is the time
when ....it all winds.....
down....
            the lights are ......
dimmed.......
    and the world....
                          settles
the world settles.....
        .....and the breathing
of the room becomes
                         ...regulated
syncopated.......... smooth...
.........broken..only by...
the whimpers of.....
medicated ....sleep sodden pain.......
...as you shift ..... as they shift....
...  the broken...bruised ..and..
battered anatomy... on slabs
of latex ...concreted.... beds..
but.... even that.... has become
a ...descant.... that..
                harmonizes.....
with the..... murmuring lyric gossip...
... of the nurses station...
.... and the brass buzzers .
...seeking....seeking...
..........relief........
answered.....­ by squeaky.....sqeeeeky
... shod percussionary..... nurses
giving ....aid....care....pills
               i lie on.... the razors... edge...
...of pain..... ....in the half light
concentrating.... on this...
assonic symphony  ....willing for it ..
......to lull me.... into a... fitfull... sleep..
but .....   . tonight it seems the ....throbbing ...robbing...
roaring.....pain  ................
....in my damaged limb...
........... and ....torn ...........flesh
...............is playing.. playing
.. a counterpoint ..to sleep...
............... havoc........
........is this night's song.....
           .......for me....
at least ...until...
the meds.... sing .......
.in my veins....and then....
.... all is........ a lullaby.....lulla .....bbye

one moment away,
from oblivion.

one hopeful moment

caught between thought
and action
one moment, one heart beat

one movement,

oblivion, or hope

his choice...his moment

we wait, with breath held.

one moment, a lifetime
one moment, an eternity

one eye open,
jackhammer in brain
....appears to be blucat
purring.

i see,
my hangover
has not....
diminished his,
need for food.

one eye closes,
drifting off again,
my head, so heavy...

one eye open, again.
whaaa...!!!!
staring up at,
a wrinkly bald blucat belly...
his front paws, on my forehead
backpaws, top of my chest.
still purring...
so not,
letting me rest....

determination...
thy name is....
hungry kitty.

i  detour on the way home
to the light house on the headland
such a grandiose appellation
for a stolid white box  with
a light in it...
more utalitarian than romantic
but still it is nice to see it blink on

but i digress ... i am so ****** tired
beyond the bone, right down to the marrow
god this winter has been so long
and the grief i drag around,
in tattered threads... and sepia tones
leaves me cold....

my heart not in the teaching...
i feel disjointed, displaced .
i have misplaced the knack
to find the joy in youthful creativity
and am running this marathon by rote

i worry that the key won't turn in the lock
and i will be caught within
this cage...
an exhibition in the museum
to has-beens  and never-were's

yet paradoxically...
my performance stellar
sometimes so good
that i fool myself...

god send spring soon....
or i fear am come undone

it has rained for a week
cold and bitter here
give strengnth to  the roots
of my tidily packaged fears

and if i don't see spring soon
they will be spread and torn and ripped
and you will see the inside and
understand the grift

and there the light blinks on
sending out the saving beam
safe secure and strong
and in the shadows
you see the woman
scrabbling at the earth
burying deep in sandy loam
the thoughts birthed from
an  overtired mind
the thoughts that she
must not nurture ...
that needs be left behind
buried deep, stomped  hard
into the ground...

and as she stands in the lee of the light
and looks to the sea ..... she sighs heavily
the turns back into the deepening night
less heavy of heart....able to continue
the fight..... one last look...
then homeward bound....
thanking the lighthouse
and leaving  sacred ground.

as i drive to work today
i see the detruis of thebig rain
piled up on the kerbs

great heaps of garden trash
leaves and broken trees

and in front of me a council
team with a log chipper
pulls up at one of the larger heaps
and begins to decimate it
bough by bough, it rumbles
through the mechanism
that cuts it down to mulch
and throws it into
the back of a following trailer

whilst the practical part of
my soul applauds their productivity
the whimsical nature loving earthmother
cries..for the birds and possums that
just lost the family ranch

worthless words
fall from my mouth
to beat like moths
at the dim light bulb of your brain

we at present speak
different languages
and have no desire
to find a translator

we circle each other
and watch understanding
whirlpool down the drain

for the wont of kindness
we expire, we declaim
not my fault, as we take new aim

this is not a dual,
life at ten paces
not a race
no one wins
no gold for first place

this is life, and living
gritty bits and all
this is the big wide world
where all are destined,
to fail and fall

this is how you get up
not how you fell down

this is the world of world weary
and the panache of wearing
a truly battered crown

this is the sticking point
the stinking, smoking left-over joint
the left behind,  the neverminds

this is your day
and yes...
you can live it your way

but you need to know
there are consequences
things that go bump in the night
things that in later years
you strive to make right
things that affect the trajectory
of your haphazard flight.

live your life!
live it free....
but sunshine,
in my class...
if you don' t hand
in your assignments
you heading for disaster
and this is the word.... from
the red ink master.

can't sleep,
tried to count sheep,
but the little buggers won't jump the fence.

can't sleep,
tried counting sheep,
but the pesky little critters, are to busy eating,
to jump the fence.

can't sleep,
busy trying to count sheep but the little f^ckers won't stay still.

can't sleep,
feel like i might have mentioned this before, counting sheep is a feckless chore,
but one i must try once more,
either that... or..
eat the leftover
curried lamb pie.

dimble dumble,
caught a, thimble thumble
of precious morning dew.

dimble dumble, took his thumble thimble,
full up to rimful.
on his nimble rambull
wooly stu,
careful not to lose,
a drippity drop
of the delicious dew.

they flimble, flambled,
up and overed,
down and undered,
till dimble dumble,
with his thimble thumble, filled to rimful,
on the wooly rambull... came to stumble.

his face a crumble,
as the rimful,
roamed and overflew,
the thimble thumble walls.
a dribble drabble did scribble scrabble,
down the rambulls hide.

dimble dumble
chewed his bottom lip
and cried.
"do not fret my little pet, look there is still enough inside"
wooly stu decried.
"i'll be more staid,as we ride our fortunes, soon will be made."

so,dimble dumble
and his rambull crew,
with thimble thumble recovered,
from the tumble.

on they skedoodledaddled. being careful to protect the remaining morning petal's dew.
after a while, time,
flew with dove like grace and dimble dumble,
with his dudes came
to the the very place, of the rimble romble rumble
and royal rapture rap parade

dimble dumble
and rambull stu on bended knee
and really humble
presented their
thimble thumble
not quiet full to rim still
but delicious and felitious morning dew
to the king awaiting
his purchase and perview.

before its spoiling,
it was boiling,
his kettle singing,
songs a ringing,
to the beauteous,
but not so bountious, morning dew.

dimble dumble
watched the
thimble thumble steam
and bubble blip away.
hands flipping flapping
nose jinkling wrinkling
as the fog blew,
his way boiling dew,
tea leaves darjeeling
with daphne blossoms
was the flavour of the day.

dimble dumble
with thimble thumble
empty now
and too, wooly stu
caught a peek of teacups platinum
holding royal blossom brew before the butler,
with a silly stutter,
sent them on their way,
with dimble dumble
all a fumble,
with a thimble thumble
of goldenboldens,
as his hard work's
reward that day.

her capacity for stoicism
is diminishing hourly
as pain becomes both
insidious and barefaced

her world is now small
one specailized chair
in one room and then
those who visit, catch her
attention, but for awhile

she seems to have shrunk
curling in upon herself
like a leaf, separated
from the tree

i have watched others die,
this, this is so much more
difficult and complex
there are so many ties
some made threadbare
by years of casual use,
some still strong that will need
to be unravelled over years of memory

she once was so large,
so vibrant and strong
but pain like water
is undercutting her banks
and soon this river will pass out to sea
as her wellspring gives out

then we all will be smaller for her passing

the sharp edged
rubble
of the decimated
mud crab
lay in a pile
of shell,shards
and hollow limbs

we sat, fingers
and faces smeared
singapore curry sauce
smiling, as we raise
our beers to
still tingling lips.

simultaneously
we burp... in appreciation
big joyous burps
of yeast and curry.

we laugh....
before starting to clear
the table
of the mess...

of the system
dinosaurs  at play

modify the system
dinosaurs at work

change the system
dinosaurs afraid

work the system
dinosaurs  delayed

ignore the system
dinosaurs confused

abused the system
dinosaurs confounded

abolish the system
dinosaurs extinct

create the system
dinosaurs  evolve

of the system
dinosaurs replayed

more  bitter than sweet
the taste of your words lingers
acrid on your tongue
and as your diatribe continues
it becomes acid tearing at my heart

it appears my dear,your interpretation
of my intentions was so very wrong
what I meant is, so... not what you heard
and now you have begun a rampage
based on a reality that is simply absurd

and the sadness in  my soul,
is compounded by the fact,
that we will not be able to rebound
if you don't stop...
and take hold of the rage
that is spewing from you...
step back...fold

walk away from the table,
before you behold
the ice that is running through me,
ice cold I am,  as you review me
not knowing.. my mold is different,
to what you see... me,
I am not for sale I don't take fee's
I speak my mind...and my truth,
if that makes you blind,
or that makes you uncouth...
I am not inclined to back away from your rage...
this..or any other day....
If you can't take what I say, with a heart of love,
then, honey just walk away....
come back when you have thought things through...
take a day take a few...then come back
and create a discourse,
not based of volume,
not fueled by rage,
suppose what I am saying
(inside of the shell)
....hell...
come back
when you can act you age....

and so, the calvous dome
which held his brain,
was set upon
a scrawny frame,

of bleach-ed,
parchment on bony wire.
all cobbled to together,
with old horse glue.

and covered with
clothes of a faded,
soft, denim blue
and when,
this sombulant
pile of  aged junk,
moved he sorta slunk
and creaked and clacked,
accompanied by a stench
that was not of rose.

clouded eyes,
blackened teeth
toe nails,
reminiscent
of a coral reef.

this was the old man,
who lived in the old
winnebago van.

this was the old man,
who always lent a hand.

who loved us all from afar,
who left us a library,
when his life was spent
and he was to heaven sent.

a quick word for paula lee
and  pamela rae
members of
the ditzy is as ditzy does club
may i join you ladies fair

my applicatory action
took place this morning
while labouring under distraction
i washed my husbands(a chippie) workwear
with cat's chicken flavoured kibble

it is now out drying on the line
with a row of cat's divine
staring at the brown streaked
grime in nose wrinkling adoration.

so ladies i think i made the cut
and can become a fully fledg-ed
member of this club refined
of absent mindedness defined....
(i plead pmt ...
intelligence in, sharp decline)
what say you..

I watch you
on this sultry afternoon
over under the flowering plum

back to the bark,
head bent over your
well loved acoustic,

fingers plucking,
stroking, strumming,
fondling... those strings

and I hear the notes
as they drift on the
breeze...
as I hang the bedsheets
on the washing line

the melody is
sweet, sweet seduction...
foreplay in three/four time

and I see in my mind
what those fingers...
strong, scarred and flexible
can do...
           to places sacred, tender
and oh! so divine...

followed by lips and mouth and all....
divinity sublime  and more....

the dog, strains against
the leash, tied to the
no parking sign.

all, quivering white
and caramel fur
docked tail, ears up,
eyes bright and
searching, searching,
for his alpha love.

water bowl, full,
next to him,
ignored.
eyes firmly set,
to the grocery store
door,
quivering, wriggling,
animated, anticipation.

every time, the door
swooshes open,
a double yap.
"i am here.""i am here."

doggy devotion,
denied by food health regulations, master inside,
but i am  here waiting,
still.

insurmountable
undefatigable yet
sitting lost for words

my friend you are here
beaten broken and alone
your choice created this

your ******  pride made this
clusterfuck happen  again
you need to hop down

off your tall pristine
pedestal of hurt hubris
and apologise till

your stupid tongue bleeds
then apoligise once more
and hope she listens

then spend the lifetime
making sure she knows you love her
more than that stupid.......

in the wind
the blood bright red
poppies dance and bow
the bee's bustle and hustle,
from one black hearted flower
to another, little engines
revving away, as they gather
the pollen count for the day's quota
the sound is like a conversation
you can't quite hear, as you
struggle to remain asleep
on a drowsy summer sunday morning

a comforting whisper with some
notes of anxiety, the sort of conversation
that precedes  a breakfast in bed made
by child and husband, one that comes
with best intentions, tepid tea, cold eggs
and slightly singed toast, sans jam
a breakfast that you eat smilingly,
knowing, the love that flavours it
a breakfast you eat whilst watching
poppies dance and bumblebee's bustle

the salt tangs and swirls
in the mist
giving the world outside
my door
an ocean lisp
all the tree's now indistinct
and ghostly
all the world now mostly
secrets and whispers, soft this morn
the cloud have come to visit
and the sun....
he is up there somewhere
the little blucat has made
his decision....hibernation
is the mode of coping...
the boys of the same intonation...
who am i to disturb the flow
....back to bed with book i go,

just a minute
to jot something
profound

mere seconds
to create
something
that
reverberates
resounds

uber meaningful
deep as the ocean
spiky and fierce
to create a commotion

nothing lame
keep it sane
wake up
the inert brain

love is
like water
to a starving soul
it replenishes
make growth
make whole

Ethel echidna
had a date wid Pike,
a fiiine!
young hedgehog
who be doin' the backpack

she got n' egg
ya see bout a rave
up in the mountains
in a black cathederic cave
doof doof in the dandenongs

d' message said
up dee track
where the ding dongs
don't dare follow
round d' hollow n'
up the back

Ethel she preened
and she polished
the dreds down her back,
clickety, click, clack.
painted her claws
a fetching shade
of orange neon
all watched on by
Pike the backpack peon

then to the doof
dey departed
at a fast shuffel
leaving behin
barely a ruffle
in the burrowed air
they followed
d'directions to
d' right section
dis dey knew
by d' sound of
d' massive party
goin down

on payin d' dosh n'
getten d' mark
off dey went
inta the fray
***** boy mumbled
"woyhoy gotcha!"
when he saw who
was providin
the goodmuse vibing
up ona stage
Jagger the emu
was a struttin'
with Ringo the dingo
on drums an bongos
while Hendrix
the numbat riffed d' strat
an  Entwhistle
d'frogmouthed owl
grooved on his gibson
wid ***** left stage staring

Ethel got bizzy
check'n out the dancefloor
lookin for bling or moves wid a sting
perhaps a little ******* headbangin

well down
at the southdoor
trouble was brewin'
foul words
was spewin between
d magpie n seagull crews
till the bouncers,
kanga & roo
hustled dem
all outside for a brew

up near the stacks
Pheobe the lizard
was flashin
a matchin
frill n grill ensemble
while Stan, her man
was fillin his bill
at the buffet table
as only a pelican can
at the grub bar
sat the kookaburra trio
Max,Tom, Deccy
havin a speccy
at tha lady
cockatoos n' galahs,
givina chuckle
at the bruhaha
they had created
comin flyin from
near n' far to this
surberb n spectacular
festival of fauna
"tho hot as a sauna
best dis year sofah"

jus inside
d' recovery corner sat
Horn a blue tongue lizard
feelin a bit pukey n' flat
den dere was
Kayla n' Jac
a pair o koalas
who now be zonin
from d eucalyptus
dey been a chewen
alldayz

outaback time it's awastin
with dis watchin n waitin

Ethel hit the floor
wherever
she booggied,
grooved or h-banged
she got a big crowd,
given her ground
to shake
her dreds around
cause dat girl
is dangerous
wid her dredlocks man,
to which Zach
the one eyed wombat
can well attest

Now not bein a dancer
***** got lonely
so looked upa chat
with the rest
of d' backpackin crowd
he swapped recipes
for green brownies wit
Boomer the orangatang,
harvest spots wit
Goth the friutbat,
Hamish de otter,
quiet de globetrotter,
did giv ***** some tips
about surfin rips
furder down de coast.

so dey shimmyed
an dey shammyed,
dey talked
an dey squawked
till d' old sun
came out to play
den dey wandered
and dey wended
back down
d' track to d' town
to sleep d' day away.

as to our Ethel
and *****,
well
dey crawled
gingerly
inta their bed,
they cuddled
an dey clicked,
dey kissed
an dey snicked
and dey
blew dey
selfs away

my mother handed out
love in admonishments
about clean shoes and brushed teeth
to try our best and not to bleat about a life hard and oft incomplete....it is only now after years of growing
in understand it is not because she was hard, uncaring  but that she was as fragile as spun glass
so much already taken stolen by this world...her mother while in her teens
first love taken by vietnam
war machine, first child, daughter a few days old...and then three live children, later husband taken by gambling and a woman she considered a friend.
those simple words became
hard to say....to admit love
was to have it ripped away.
so she taught herself, this terse morse of words imbued with love..take a jumper... have you got your books all double entendre
just in care not risque
with love bespoke....
as children we learnt to find the deeper meaning
to parse conversations
for love...sifted by despair...

we learnt well, the art of doublespeak....

your echoes die,
your voice is doused by life*

the minutiae washed away
and ground down to sand
dispersed in vesper tides

the feel of your touch
now just froth and bubble
food for fish and crablings


last words whispered on
the wind, whipped away

whilst i was busy,
making lists
and counting coins

oh to hear your shout
one last time
but no
you have left this place

and we must look to living
and leave the detrius
to the sea's forgiveness

so the stars are hiding
tonight...

perhaps they make a deal
with the clouds,
so every now and then,
they can kick back,
drink a beer and go
to the movies....

it must be hard,
to keep your twinkle, sparkly
night, after night, after night,

everybody....
even the heavenly ones deserve some....
                        down-time.

am i right or am i right!!!!

bright, bright spotlight sun

showing my weakness'
to the world......

the moon
clothed in pearl grey clouds
sits high upon the sky
as the tides sings an ode
to it's beauty


the air still,
then zephyrous
dances with dust and motes
in the street lamps reflection

dampness sizzles and steams
on old tar roads, puddles erupt
as cars swing  on through
dragon lights on high beam
veering off into the night

we sit, drinks in hand
as small things pitter
and patter about
and listen to the deepening
of the warm summer night

roll up! roll up!!
you fine hearted boy.
time now to put down,
the store made toys.
time to make magic...
with the inside,
of your mind
roll up! roll up!!
to the dream circus
let's see what we find....


melamine monkeys
mimic monstrousity's
mangling, minor majorities
in musical mayhem
symphonies, sublime
playing  mozart in part on
a shiny yellow kazooo

meanwhile marshmallow
crocodiles smile with
mincing beguile
at ****** moo cows
meandering miles
in crooked zig-zag lines
making milkshakes
all the while...

mouses and mices
are avoiding becoming
itty bitty pieces of
rodent and crabapple pie
by milling mindlessly
around the mound
of milliners, by the by.

now to
meet and greet at the
zoo
mrs hippopotomus
has ginger biscuits and
mango milk ready for you
while you watch the fleet of zebras  and their plataypi  crew,
sail in the xebec regatta
twice around the isle of goo.
before saying
huzzah and hooroo
they won the championship
whoohoo!!!!
it's all a happenin,
at the bing **** bingle zoo


but for all these
amazing thing to occur
my lad
you have to pay your dues
so close your eyes,
and sleep .....
and you  will see
a wonderful dream or two....

at night
it manifests
this dream of mine
to write my world
my hopes, my decline
and rise again to fall
it to this pit of words,
to break this wall
that lies betwixt us,
your world...
so different to the one
i inhabit.
these words like songlines,
leylines for you to follow
down into the depths
down past the dressings
into the magma
into......

what wild dreams
do you have as you
sleep away the days
til rain comes again
and unsticks the glue
around your door

whilst you are curled
up inside your nautilus
door closed to the world

do you dream of lettuce
leafy and green,
or puddles and wet grass
that tickles your foot

what do you dream
all tucked up, tight
with eyes retracted
and stomach slim.

what are the dreams
of the small snail
as he awaits, the rains

Small cat sleeps
Lips twitch and paws run
As he dreams  lion and tiger dreams
Whilst curled into the cutest little ball of fluff in the neighborhood.

you mumured love
into my ear,
that made me glow

those words made a home
as they echoed in my my mind
they painted walls a warm blue
carpeted in a lovely angora white
moved in chairs, tables and
a big feather bed
those words warm and encouraging
had a family, that follwed them about
like little fluffy ducklings, bring a smile
to my face

they expanded their homstead
to make my heart large and welcoming
and those duckling words grew up
and flew from the home in my heart
out into the world, to give love

you mumured love into my ear
and the whole world changed..

after walking (for my health)
I sat on the old wooden bench
in the park (mostly to regain my breath)
and watched the world for a while...

it was pleasant, the sun warmed my face
my muscles felt good (not overused at all)
as I sat I was joined by a duck,  
who took an interest in the soles
of my walking shoes
(is it not decadent that we possess shoes  for walking)
the duck proceeded to give me a foot massage of sorts
before settling in to lean against my ankle
and we watched the world pass by

I stayed much longer than I should have
not wanting to disturb the duck
and now as I write, I feel a stiffness in my calves
(but  i cannot begrudge myself
the quiet wonder of the afternoon
spent in companionship  with a duck)

today..... it is raining elephants
all the dogs and cats have
taken shelter
under ladybird umbrellas.
.....and the ducks
lets just say.... they are hiring canoes.

i eat the wind and sky,
as i walk along the shifting sands.
the waves roar,
profane curses,
in my left ear.
and at my feet
leave, monuments and epitaphs
of their destructive fury.
to my right the sand
sails, from the dunes
in bereft drifts
leaving the long sedge grasses sighing
heartfelt goodbyes.
i head toward the
rusted hulk,
that howls and sings
a furious duet,
with the wind.
i stand with my hands
over my ears and lean backwards,
so my spine makes contact with the derelict ship's hull. my body vibrates,
with the power
of this angry world.
and i rejoice,
in it's soulful serenade.

when
did the crisp,clean edge
on which
my poetic self....
balanced,
become obese and dull.

a ledge,
upon which i sit,
feet dangling
and make inane
conversations
with the pigeons
that  now
reside in my brain.
when?

words are not easy now
they turn their back an slink away
i mutter soliloquys of gibberish
hoping to entice them home
but no, they laugh  and belittle me

my muse has  taken to reading  
other poet's work and nags
about the good old days
flouncing about and swaering

there are many theories, about
this dry spell, this soon to be drought
but really all i can do is sit
out on the back deck,
watch the dustbowl
and wait for the smell
of petrichor....

the leaves are beginning to turn
the tips just edged with the glory
of colour

in the early morning air
that crisp nip
gnawing away at summer

and the birds are beginning to leave or forage for warm nesting

the little blucat, watches this
activity from the comfort
of the warm window ledges
in the sun room,
before dozing once more
head pressed to the warm glass

i love these few moments
of the morning....
when the house bustles
but in essence..i am
alone...
the boys are still sleeping
but restless...
the house creaks and groans
as i prepare for the day
supervised by the blue cat's
eyes as he sits at the window and calls for a bird rollcall...

this is our time...
sandwiches made...
magpies called to order
we sit is companionable silence...
watching the neigborhood
awake and catch up to us
the early risers....

today...will be a good day...

green tips
are showing
all over the garden

buding lime on
stick bare branches

muscling their way
up through
red chocolate soil

peeking out
of rocky crevices

all seeking
light and warmth

chlorophyll seeking argent
hope seeking fulfillment
winter aceding to spring

an hour
and an hour,
past,
the twelve struck gong.
my eyes lie open,
my heart awakened
by the notes,
of a sad, sad song
of longing,
now,
lounging ,
in my psyche
and i see the wisps
of half-remembered
dreams fading in
the moon bright air.....
oblivious,
to my waking.
my lover slumbers on,
as i try,
to capture the words
of the sad, sad song....