Hey Star Child, are you listening? Do you know?
There is a woman who is seated at the edge of existence;
She sits at the blush of all creation
And in her deft hands, the fabric of time and upon it, she will sew
She will sew ever so lonely, the joyful memories of those of space
Such thankless work

Her skin is as dark as the unknowable void and her eyes as bright as celestial sparks
She wades her long, thick legs in the primordial ooze
From which all life grasped onto her endless scroll of the fabric of time which she marks
With all the spectrum of human knowledge and human emotion: humanity itself.
But for her deft craft; it is thankless work

And she has name; a name of decency and order
Cosima of the Cosmos: divine being of all with tranquil auras upon her lips
Her soul is that of chaos and order; blooming with gentle petals that did corder
The interconnectedness of the realms and worlds at her fingertips
With deft fingers, she sews and she sews and she sews
Unaware time has passed at all; her endless chore without beginning where she goes

Without end, without thanks
Cosima sews. That is the true nature of her celestial,
Of her ethereal
Duty to us, the children of the stars whom she is unaware of; hark
Tis us who are unaware of her
She who sits, sewing, at the gorgeous turmoil of the beginning and end of the universe
That she has crafted, blissfully unaware of her how fingers bleed for us
She sits, sewing, and crafting the fabric of time rolled out infinitely upon our Earth

Oh Cosima, oh darling Cosima of the Cosmos, do you know?
Are you listening to I?
I who wish to bid you praise for your stellar talents
I who cry out in the astral abyss; completely separated from you by space and time
I who cry out in a weak, perishing voice
I who wishes to acknowledge your tireless, endless work

The work Cosmia, oh Cosima my darling, who creates all the pleasures and misfortunes
Of the human experience we write, we sew, we who praise all your efforts
Unknowingly so
To which is met with more bitter, ignorant bliss
For you, Cosima of the Cosmos, do not realise you are not alone
You do not realise that your astral fingertips is more lives than you will ever know
How horrible it is, such thankless, beautiful work
Imbued with loneliness you will never fathom
For such loneliness is all you’ve ever known

The ordered universe: symmetry and entropy
Petals of magenta, unfurl and it does greet
The morning sun in joy and the evening moon in farewell,
A name by any other just as sweet
Cosmo, the one with the name of peace and order, Cosmo
The flower we have signified to mean such pleasantries
In the feminine name of the motherly woman who sits at the edge of nothingness
And all
We did name such a pretty petal pink
But does she know?
But do you know?

Hey Star Child, did you listen? Do you now know?
Hey Star Child, will you be the one to let her know?
Will you be the one to thank Cosima of the Cosmos?

Ain’t got nothing to do
At four in the afternoon
But doing nothing
Means everything to me

Lapping around a small town
Makes the town smaller
Highways ain’t scary no more
The speed limits seem limitless

My dad’s CD starts up
In my grandmother’s rack
I sing along to worn out lyrics
This is how it was meant to be played

Twenty bucks of gasoline
In the car’s tank
Petrol station Pepsi Cola
In my tank

My budding freedom
Tastes of lukewarm sugary syrup
And sounds like
Old school rock on new asphalt

In my more misunderstood days, I once read up on how to speak to the dead
The results were unsurprising; an article on Necromancy
I read on and on, it went quite hard to my head
It went quite hard to my memories

Upon that aloof, summer day of boredom in which I was first clued in
To the biggest secret kept away by grief and adulthood
I read why unspeakable corpse magic is deemed a sin
And why such things are sealed away with intentions good
But ultimately useless
Despite the misinformation’s efforts proven fruitless

We do not reach out; we do not speak to the dead
The dead reach out, they speak to us

They reach out to us
In dreams, in books, in stories
With much fuss,
They rise from the crypts and earth
And they whisper sweet glories
In their reeking, putrid breath exhaled from rotten lips
The truth slips, the future slips

For the dead, they can see the future
For the dead, they have lived the past
Necromancy, romantic for the living longing for the dead; suture
Of misinformation; the ideation that the living cast
A spell upon the dead, raising them for past loves and lives
When in truth, they are merely here to set free our eyes from our lies

The dead do not want us the living to die
For they know how horrendous fate can be
With screeching lungs rotting, they shriek of how the end is nigh
And share wisdom mostly ghastly
Willingly, they impart visions of future from bygone past
As, they - the ungrateful dead - lusting for life to return
With one last breath,
I remind you so you may learn
So, you may pass on from your own misunderstood days:
That which colours our miserable, romantic haze...

We do not talk to the dead
That is why we believe it bad luck to speak ill of our passed-on people
The dead talk to us and they talk to us of the future
That is the truth of Necromancy
That is the truth that you will now see
Beyond misconstrued myth, it is not the raising of the dead for love,
But for knowledge.

The shadow in the dark
The stranger in the night
Footsteps in the grass
Dew disturbed

Wishing, praying,
I am his prey
Hiding and hoping
That he, the predator,
Does not find my naive den

Like a body in a tomb,
I wait for sunlight
To pierce the night
And free me from the darkness

Time is fluid
When you're afraid
Hours are minutes
As you count your blessings
And not your seconds

Does he mean me harm?
Or is he imagined?

Eve ate the untouchable apple
And was made to leave Eden
With Adam, beside her, and his child

Persephone ate the pomegranate
And was made to stay in Styx
With Hades as her husband

To stay or to leave,
I want a man to eat fruit with,
As lovers, loyal and sublime

I’m like a knock-off Edgar Allen Poe
But instead of raving about a raven
I croon about a crow
Who comes a-fluttering
And I start my muttering
About I do not need savin’

I'm cruising
For a bruising
I'm thrashing
For a smashing

Fitful rest in the place of slumber
A jolted start
Lulled by darkness
It was too early
It was too late
The night was dark
Then, I heard it in the distance:
An unidentified voice

Sweet, silver song sung
Solitude in solemn shadow
I could not identify the singer
Neither male nor female

Peculiar voice in a peculiar morning
An hour past midnight
I did hear the song
And then something caught my fear
I hath been taken by the ear

Were they a Siren of a tarred river
Flowing through a small town
Tempting me to the street
And turn me into a meal sweet
Or perhaps a Banshee
Irish crying, sobbing,
Mistaken for a singer
When they are a harbinger

Distant, faint,
And indescribable
Words and babble
But a song nonetheless
But a lullaby nonetheless

The girl with fluorescent eyes
She wears neon dyes
She tells me kaleidoscope lies
About being in love with me
About being love with love

Coarse as silk
Rotten as milk
Sour as honey
Useless as money
I only have
Love unto you

With a name like Ruth
You know she’s a babe
Kickstart her heart
And she’ll tear you apart

Old in spirit
Young in body
***** and dusty
A compact, unclean model

Buzz-box motor
Straight down a highway
She’s got sixty horse power
She’s bucking bronco wild

Guzzling gasoline
Rocks out to old school rock’n’roll
She’s a Saturday night special
With a hippie ***** stamp

Jealousy rips up the road
And now I’m in a rage
But it ain’t her fault
I’m just materialistic

Miniature but mighty,
I don’t take her lightly
And I don’t know if it’s likely,
But I want that Ruthie to be mine

I watch as my Father
Makes tea for my Grandfather
(His Father-In-Law)
He removes the lid off the mug,
The hot water, inside it, once sealed,
He dabs the tea bag, it bounces, splashing,
He tears open the two sachets of sugar
Pours and mixes it all in (with no milk)
My Father has stubby, tradie fingers,
Watching them do such delicate work is odd
Then the tea sits in its plastic, blue mug
No one says a word.
Not I; not either of these men;
The tea is cooling, steaming,
We all watch, eyes intent and stern,
For a moment, the tea is sacred, holy,
A communion
Between a middle aged Catholic and an old atheist
Then, finally, this tea, horrid tasting, I imagine,
Is taken by the handle with a trembling hand
And it is sipped by trembling lips

Comedy or tragedy?
It’s the entertainment of death
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry
You’ll live, you’ll die
Either way, who is to say?
Either way, bet on your guess

Four points on a circle
Spin the wheel
It won’t feel real
It will get you sick
So, take your pick
Fortune is yours to make
It is yours to take

Life is a casino
You’re playing poker
Like they do in Texas
Hold ‘em, fold ‘em,
Hit ‘em, bid on ‘em,
Play pentacles
Then the cards with cups
But someone just yelled *******
And the guy across from you
Just bet all on blue
Time to go round two

**** the dealer
Dance with the Devil
Kiss coincidence
Flirt with fate
Lady Luck might notice you yet

Red or black
Get something back
Double or nothing
Best your blessings
Cut your wins
And count your losses

Until the final game
Comes down to good luck,
Bad luck,
Or something beyond control
Bet on black to start
Then go straight for the heart

Anthomancy
Arithmancy
Auramancy
Bibliomancy
Botanomancy
Capnomancy
Cartomancy
Cryptomancy
Dictio­mancy
Grammomancy
Hypnomancy
Ichnomancy
Knissomancy
Lithomancy
Lunamancy
Macharomancy
Micromancy
Necromancy
Nephomancy
Numismatomancy
Oneiromancy
Pallomancy
Rhapsodomancy
Shufflemancy­
Stareomancy
Symbolomancy
Theomancy
Xylomancy

There are lovebirds in the church
And the eyes of God in the wood
Red-breasted and swollen
Things deteriorate as they do
Timber to rot
Love to hate
Yet they still neck
Amid the pews
Because blessed are they
Who *** in the name of the Lord

Most men tango with a rose on tongue
But not he
He chewed the thorned stem of dynamite

Most women sit like a honey ***
But not she
She swallowed the poison of bleach

I wanted to tell him to stop
I wanted to tell her to stop
I wanted to tell them all to stop

Many people question
The legitimacy
Of my tastes

Cigarettes
And alcohol
I hate them very much

Ask anyone
Ask him
Ask her

I’m scared
And yet I’m fearless
Contradictions wrapped up in values

I hold beliefs
Close to my heart
And close to my mouth

Pen in hand
Hatred in mouth
I write, I speak

I take out a newspaper
And I read it on my porch
My porch consists of a deck chair and a paddock
My back to my slanting house

I read articles on the yellowing page
And I read about how the world
Has gone to the dogs
It seems that all hath lost their minds

In my solace, without companionship,
I wonder if I have lost my mind too
Its been so very long since I have had
To make tea for someone

I believe the last had been my brother
Now I am the youngest sole
Of brothers three
Here on my farm,
I am free

By they near
And they are dear
To me their baby brother
That’s why I keep them
Near and dear
To me

Old stories turned to dust and ash
Not even a legend, not even a myth
After all, dead men tell no tales
Especially not about Inglewood convicts
Especially not when you put poison numb
In their tea

The last time I was here
It had been free drinks on the house
It had been a celebration
A taunt
This was how far we’ve come
This is how far we have yet to go

You can’t catch us
For we’re having too much fun
Flirting, talking, chatting
Ideas and hopes
For this year
And the year it had been

It’s different now
Solemn without solace
The haphazard roof
Over haphazard concrete
Where music blasts
And is not played
Where thoughts are delayed

For thoughts bring tears
And tears bring pity
I can’t stand it
The twilight air
Suffocates me
As people stop
And stare

I want to stay
I want to go
I want to live another day
And I want to know
What is beyond the boundary

Let’s have a party
In a building turned funerary
Barbed wire fences
And railroad tracks
Life is seen between cracks
I’ve come so far
And yet I haven’t progressed at all

A waxing crescent moon,
Canescent, anxious light
Illuminates the eerie sky
Free from shadow, free from stars
But not free from sin
This is the realm of illusory serenity
Under celestial blessing
I walk the path I’ve always known

A single road
A lonely road
Gravel cuts the underside
Of my aching feet
As I march under moonlight
So that I may
Taste the sweet and sour
The good and the bad
The grief
And the peace

Do you remember,
When we ran the world?
We were the king and queen
Of a dominion, so big and true,
The central of which was a eucalypt stump
Guarded by a broken, barbed wire fence

Do you remember,
When we thought
We’d never get older
And we’d never grow apart
Only closer?

I miss those halcyon days
Afternoons and mornings
Under a great blue sky
Back when we ran the world
Because the world we always knew
Was so small and tiny
Just like our minds and bodies

Our problems seem so close
And these youthful days seem so far away
But I remember them so dearly
With every breath of gust carrying
The pure scent of fresh mown grass
And with every taste of orange juice
I hope you cherish them as well
Because they mean the world to me

And I still dream of these days
Both waking and through the night
Where I can live untroubled once more
By your side, hand in hand
Against the villainy of getting older
Even though it’s the inevitable fate

All crowns rust in the unavoidable years
Which come and go
With changes unprecedented
But embraced with an adult acceptance
Because we aren’t children anymore
We aren’t in a playground dominion
Along a beaten path and in the shade

Our reign is over, and I no longer know
The faces who have taken our places
But I hope you know
I thank you for the memories
They were so sweet and innocent
And even as we got older
And our feelings grew stranger,
I believe we’ll always have our days
As kings and queens
In our little-big dominion
So long as we always remember

Chasing dangerous clouds
Down a dangerous road
Twilight hath come
As has the storm
I grip onto the steering wheel
Knuckles turning white
I chase a hallowed and holy love
On a replaceable summer evening

My old loves died
In the springtime
My new loves died
In the summertime

Some like it violent
Insatiable in every sense
Brutal and arousing
Bruises and bitemarks
That draw blood
A delight, red and raw
Teeth marks sinking into flesh

Miss Mass ******
And her new boyfriend
Mister Mysterious
Are in love
Shiny and new
Like the first drop
From a finger pricked
On a cerated knife

But it was too much too soon
Twisted young love asphyxiates
In rooms without privacy
Hitting a new a high
Pointed teeth and fanged smiles
Cigarette drags on moonless nights
*** and death intertwined
There is lust after life

Together forever
Side by side: six feet under
Unnatural and unlawful
It was a night to dismember
A funerary wedding
His and hers in a hearse
Rattling tins and dangling bones
Just married written in a scarlet hue
That is not ink

The stars may have names
Past their prime
Living in a different time
Living in a world
Different to my own
Yet intrinsically the same
A human experience
Fabricated in existence
Of melodies and zodiacs
The constellations, the coincidences
Entropy in the skies

Awed by the distance
Between myself and theme
I feel so small and insignificant
I could cross the lands
I could cross the seas
And yet
I would not be able to cross the heavens

I follow the starlight
Until it turns lime
Until the stars turn to stone
And I can follow them on a boardwalk
All the way to the big top

And the young old gods
Who live under the big top
Of sloth and ***
Prayed to by their fans
For their conflated talents
We call them
Stars

And they are called stars for a reason
Sparkling, dazzling
Intangible, infallible
Humanity is its own sort of chaos
Its own sort of entropy
Constellations and mythologies
But not for millions
But not for millennia
But for decades
But for days

Until mortality meets immortality
Death doesn't discriminate
But immortality
Is very selective
It will elect
Only the best
Only the classics

Just like the stars
Which sprawl and scatter
Through the sublime heavens
With a meek tongue
I sing
A song
Not sung
My own
Written

Jack The Stripper
On the pole
Going down
To that hole
Lingerie ****** killer
It's a ****** paperback thriller

Make love to the monsters under my bed
Hear the moans of the waking dead
I miss my scary dreams
Horrors, terrors, and screams
Instead I hear enigmatic speech
From a ghost, beyond a breach
Of sadness and sourness

Dear slender Aphrodite,
I have ne’er been overcome
With passionate, ****** longing
But I have felt the pursuit of the hunt
By Aries in Venus;
The child playing all is fair in love and war
But not a longing to disrupt
The weaving of thine words

“Do people really fall in love?”
Crooned the eccentric philosopher
David Byrne in hypnotic hymn
And in prismatic, psychedelic psalm
Avant-garde, aromantic heart
Expressions and impressions
That have etched upon my body
And become the truth that I accept

I have tasted the sweet of peaches
And I have felt the scalding of the sea
Lost in thought; all alone, but content
Yet the conclusions all draw back
To dulcet childhoods unfettered
By the snickering and abnormalities
That is infatuation ****** upon thee

“Raise boys and girls the same way”,
Jenny Holzer informed those in her bold dialogues
From commercial, photographic anonymity
But it is I, in gentle and embarrassed whimper,
Who would like to beseech of you
In sunny, platonic gesture
Tell boys and girls
They can be friends
Without it turning to wretched love

Dead end days
Spent by dead-end kids
Living on a dead-end street
Listening to a dead-end radio
Sing about dead-end dreams
That taste bittersweet on the dead-end tongues
Of these dead-end kids
It’s just another dead-end day
Doing dead-end deeds
In a dead-end world of grey

Dead-End Boy
Met Dead-End Girl
Born was a dead-end friendship
But the Dead-End Boy
Had dead-end feelings
For the Dead-End Girl
But the from the Dead-End Boy
The Dead-End Girl felt no joy
In a dead-end instant
Their dead-end friendship did die

Now the Dead-End Boy
Lives life unknown on a dead-end road
And the Dead-End Girl
Works a dead-end job
But in her dead-end head,
She’s singing dead-end lies
On a dead-end radio
Using her dead-end tongue so sweet
To talk about her dead-end dreams
And listening in, are dead-end kids
On a dead-end street
Their dead-end lives
Just some more dead-end deeds done
Just some more dead-end days
Done in a dead-end world forever in greys

Dearest Ophelia:
Daughter of the murdered man
Sister of the murdered man
Lover the man who murdered your men
This is an ode to your fictitious life

Ophelia, my love, you are divine
Oceanic and loving, you are the blessed petals
Of a plucked flower in hopes of a fortune

Irrational, eccentric,
Your whims
Become the whims of others

The ickle darling
Who needs help most
Dying a death so jarring

Sinking, sinking, thinking
Into the murky depths unknown
By the Queen’s words not shown

By rue,
By rosemary,
By fennel,
By *****,
By columbine,

By regret,
By remembrance,
By foolishness, flattery, and adultery,
By love,
By faith and hope

Her judgement most bitter-hearted
Her judgement most secretive and dry
Her judgement most sweet-scented

Lost to a fit of laughter
By the maiden’s wit
Her act comes to a close
With mermaid-like prose

Ocean Girl, take me to the beach
Let's get away and feel the sway
Of the breeze, Ocean Girl,
Please show me the world

You need a favour done
You need it done now
But it ain’t the kind of thing
You ask of a kind thing

You’re having troubles
With the girl who laughs like bubbles
She’s a pretty thing
But here’s a less than pretty thing
She ain’t in love with you

She’s got you on the brink
With just a flirtatious wink
But you can see the ring
On her dainty little finger
And the ring around her eyes
When she starts telling you lies

She tripped down the stairs
So, there’s no reason for you to stare
It’s just a bruise
It’s just a cut
It’s just a lie
To cover up her cry
For help

She’s having troubles
With the big man in her life
He’s the reason for all her strife
He’s the reason for all your strife
It ain’t a pretty thing
But it might just be a kind thing
To do as a favour
To make you her saviour

Guns and knives
Don’t save lives
But a kiss from her,
An angel in your life,
Might just save yours
Guns and knives
They take lives

Got it for cheap
You got it for cheap
Because there’s no reason why
You can’t do it yourself, DIY,
Better a filthy act for free
Than a ***** deed done dirt cheap

Honey badger *******
Ugly son of ***** predator
Little ****** girl so sweet
Looking for something wild tonight
Ravage me like a beast please

He gives me a rose
As he talks in purple rose
In water, we dip our toes

Death was in her lungs
And it was imminent
Every *******, gulping breath she took
Came with a bedside beg
Of release

I couldn’t stay
I couldn’t watch
I’m a coward
A traitor to the blood
In my veins
So alive, so healthy
To the blood
I received from her

A kiss upon her forehead
Her darkened skin
Turned to paper
Sickeningly soft
To my rough lips

Her suffering
Not dulled
By anything
Spirituality, science
People or family

A painful, sputtering sleep
In a clinical room
By the murky sun’s graceless light
On a cloudy afternoon

I forgot to say
I love you
But words aren’t enough
Words are meaningless
It is our actions
Which doth divine
Our true intentions
Our true emotions
And mine
Reveal only cruelty
And the absence of courage

My first love did not take me by the hand but rather by the ear
He was a ghostly music man who sang of sweet violence
He would chide and chide again of my innocence, my ignorance, my insolence
Through ghastly and grief-ridden streets, he would lead me here.

My first love was my first enemy though,
Gnashing teeth and pointed tongues lashing upon each other
For long time come, this hatred and distaste would not fade low
Forever in stinging words but there was change soon, a change to bid him my lover.

First breach of a tiled, misty dream, he has earned no right to my mind’s unreality
Again and again, his visage haunts my most inner eye
Second breach of a buzzing, glitzy dream, it has become a wish of reality,
Strange and unsettling, distorted and pale; a most convincing lie.

Unfair September echoes in my heart as I reach for his memory
An ethereal grip on a hand that is no longer there; belonging to a beachside now
How I long for a scent or touch of remembrance of him upon me
Practically lands away from him, fog kissed hills of the girth realm glower.

We are but fools in divided courts: winter and summer
Belonging more to each other than the seasons of those who divide us
We hail to ourselves and each other, giving bitter thanks to our monarchs in murmur
Dangling upon a cliffside, will we or won’t we? There is no try, only lust.

I long for a simple kind of closure.
Wherein grief does not desecrate the faded memories if once happy folk, now ghosts
I long for a battening down of cross-hatches of emotions and composure
Wherein tears do not tear away the ghosts in my mind where dwells my sacred host.

Confusion burgeons and blossoms in my mind
Excess of people draw close to me but there is only one for the companionship I seek
Do I love him, do I wish to make him mine?
Through embarassing lovelorn writings, at my own heart I dare to peek.

My first love was a ghostly music man, forever marching off unto paths that wind.
By my ear, he would lead me heavy as lead
Through untold streets where grief was forever upon mankind
Through streets that did not exist, only in song, only upon my lips and in said.

I turn off the lights
And the fluorescent bar above me
Slowly dims like drowsy eyelids
As the darkness takes over
With tightly drawn curtains
And my brain turns on

I cherish the music
Phantasms in the audio
The smell and the touch
When it comes to you
Dear Music Man
You leave me with a musical mania

Come on, Music Man
Take me by the hand
Honey, you’re so electric
You should come with a warning
Danger: high voltage

When we’re together
It feels like forever
We’ve got a live-wire energy
An electric sort of synergy
You’re the melody
I’m the lyrics
Melding together
The perfect composition

Good music on the score
Vibrations coming up through the floor
Our ***** touches will leave us sore
And wanting more

When your hands are on your guitar
I want them on my back
I want them on my hips
And I want your lips on my lips
And I want your voice in my bones
Shaking me
Shaking me
Shaking me

Men like you
Are admittedly a dime a dozen
But like a jukebox
I’d put a dime in you
Because I love listening
To your voice
It’s like a smooth, sustained cello line
A bass line dripping with warmth
Dropping in my heart

I was lying on my bed
Thoughts of you stuck in my head
When it’s heavy as lead
I know what you’ve said

And what you’ve sung
Will get me through
The nights
And the mornings
Where dreams
Thicken the loneliness
Of when you aren’t there
Or when anyone ain’t there
Just the slowly strangulating air
Dealt by hands
Belonging to a flutist
With the deeds of a duellist
Who makes me battle

Against the song I sing
Against the song I want to sing
Against the musical mania
Against the sing you sing
Against the song you want to sing
Against the Music Man

I'm in the business of misery
And business is good
Lying, crying eyes
And eyeing crying lies

Death and life
Life and death
Eternity in a wooden case
A final home

Unless
You give me some coin
And give me some qi
That's when eternity
Can become piety
Borne of forgiving alms

It's a sin
It's a beautiful evil
To bring back one's love
Back from behind The Veil

Sweet nightmares
And terrifying dreams
Rest well
Without rapture

With the singing of my song,
And the swing of staff,
The chant of my scriptures,
And my daemon in tow,
We can wish you
The very best

Because my business
Is your business
And your misery
Is my money

But it's worth every penny
I have a satisfaction guarantee
Just close your eyes
And hold your breath,
Then awake in something
Better than life
And stolen from death

Ain’t got no rhythm
Ain’t got no guitar
Ain’t got no melody
But I do got you
And I say we dance
Look like fools
Love like fools

Walking through cluttered art
A placid pace through a placid place
A green yard gone red with rust
Metal sculptures
Giant windmills
Broken, missing pieces
Wire birds twisted around walls
Bent out of shape
Graffitied and damaged
Stop signs

A farmyard
By memories of childhood
Pleasant associations
Of family and fortune
Where strangers become friends
Friends unknown
I meet the sunken eyes of my Grandfather
Over a table decked with games and festivities

A depressed omen
That hails wisdom
From years gone by
And years that will pass
Where experience
Shall meet practice

In games that doth test
Character and adversity protest
Where seeking advice
Bends the shape
Of already broken shapes
Inhumane aspect
Of people most suspect

Success and favours
Changing clothes
Changing personas
To meet the ever-changing situation
In the journey of my dreams
In the journey of my lives
I will overcome the challenge
And take my claim
Of success
And favours
My good fortune
Through
Divination of divine dreams

I’m searching for my perfect stranger
She looked just like me
Only taller, skinnier, prettier
We were wearing the same thing
Tight blue jeans and a dark coloured shirt
We met above the markets in a Sydney complex
The night was young; younger than us both
I miss you, my perfect stranger
And the embrace of your friend
Who thought I was her
We didn’t Instagram it
But I can assure you that it happened
So to you, my perfect stranger,
Let’s meet again
For sushi and bubble tea
And this time,
We’ll have more than a keepsake story
We’ll have a hug and a kiss and a friend forever
Because we’ve found each other:
Our perfect strangers in one another

My Baby's gone fishing
I hope he catches himself a treat
For us both to eat
And when he comes back home
I'll make him a meal
Of bread and butter

Oh darling Flower Child, you speak ever so pretty
Your breath is like the summer wind, young and warm
However with such lovely youth, comes such a pity
Too many thoughts come and swarm
Upon your gentle tongue is such very good advice
However, seldom do you follow such good thoughts, oh, what a price

For wisdom that comes from yonder year
You do not know. What you say, I love to hear
Because I want to learn
I want to learn from your fantasised mistake
Be bold, be daring, act out of turn
Tell him you love him, Flower Child; gamble all your hesitations upon that stake

I swear by all my moons and stars, he will love you back
He would be a fool not to love your soul, untainted and beguiled
And your verdant eyes and your wit sharp as a tack
For all your eccentricities and more, you will be loved, dearest Flower Child
So, open your mouth and speak: relish the uncertainty
To the adventurous winds you speak of in breaths of eternity

Tell him Flower Child of the love you have for him
Even if your heart is fit to break at there mere thought
Tell him of the wondrous quibbles, of the loving hymn
That you wrote for him; of the words for him you wrote
Into lovely wreaths of poetry
Laced with dulcet sincerity

Quit your flower fortunes; stop blowing dandelion seeds
Your precious little dandelions are but weeds
Stop plucking petals from roses; white painted red
They do not know your heart, they do not know your head
They are but plants, dearest Flower Child
They have no sense for sensibilities so pay their predictions no mind
I know you wish to surrender to your feelings; breathe as wild
As the winds of fortune in your mouth and you may just find
That your first love may just be your first lover
But there is only one way for such sweet feelings to be discovered.

You’re a *****,
I would know
I hate you
But you wouldn’t know

I’m young
And I’m dumb
You are older
By a ******* year
Yet you seem so much more
Worldly
And you won’t let me forget it

When we argue
My tongue gets tied
Bubbles burst
And metaphors become words
Without meaning

When we argue
Your tongue sharpens
You burst bubbles
And you ignore my argument
In favour of bringing up
My failures as a person

When we argue
It’s like naughts and crosses
I’m naught
And you’re cross
Together we go back and forth
Without end
Until we just decide
I’m wrong
And your right

I don’t owe you jack ****
Because you make me feel like jack ****
With your superiority
With your intellect
With your prowess
With your beauty
And yet
And ******* yet
Here I am
I kiss your heel
Even when you kick me

I often think
What would happen
If I were to sink
Into the depths
Of you

I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
I hate you
Do you hate me?

I hope you don’t
Though I wish you did
I say this only
Because I wish to placate our differences
Because we have too much in common
I don’t want to be an outsider
I don’t want to be what you call me

You call me a pariah
I call myself a pariah
It only hurts
When you are the one
Calling me names

And speaking of names
Yours means a love of knowledge
And mine means a love of rivalry
And a name is a gift
A gift is to be shared
And when we’re together
The streaks of difference appear

“Oh, what a wonderful wedding,”
Croons my best friend from across the table
“Yes, what a wonderful wedding,”
Swoons her worst enemy, agreeing,
Then, in unison strains, they both nod, decisive,
“Oh, yes, but what a shame,”
I blink, intrigued by the news ‘bout to break,
All whilst stabbing a fork at cake.
“The pure bride in white is a *****.”
They say, voices cacophonic and melodic,
“Her husband isn’t the one,
The one she hasn’t met yet,”
I sit between them, innocent,
Now utterly unengaged to the conversation,
Eating fondant; confounded; I don’t even know
Who the pure ***** bride in white is

I’m starting to suspect
I may be insane
I cannot talk with my mouth
I can only talk with my heart
That scares some people
Too much
Too soon

We’re out front of my house,
In the front seat of your car,
It kind of stinks in here but it smells like you
So, I don’t mind
You turn on some music
And we laugh because it’s the dodgiest track

The radio screams
My heart flutters
Heavy metal bought my love
We don’t have long hair but we’re headbanging anyway
I’m giddy from my toes to the tip of my nose

People say you’re bit of an *******
****, I’m one of them who says that
But I don’t care
My friend don’t like you
My parents adore you
Marry the boy, you marry his family

I can’t help but think it’s love
When the thought of you
Comforts me even when my best friend ain’t there
And she hasn’t been there for yonks
But what we’ve got is hard as rocks

Cloudy afternoon in a rural little street
Should’ve told you then
Better a rejection than a what-if
But I didn’t speak my mind
Only let you tease me
I wonder what could’ve happened
If I had had the courage
To take my word upon my tongue
And press it onto your mouth

Upside down
Back towards you
A solemn resignation,
Submitting to despair
Changes it into acceptance
And becomes forgiveness

A scatter of possessions at my feet
That I have since abandoned
Despite their worth
Their value
In gold and silver
But ultimately a fortune
That cannot be measured
Because of sentiments
And significance

I must move on
Though my head weighs
Low on my shoulders
And I ignore the flush of water

Waters of change
Waters of loss
Waters of purity
Waters unknown

Dressed in a gown of blue
Do I allow
The weight of worth
To weigh onwards
A burdensome tie that binds
Me to a past
Wrought in memories and mirth
Some good
Some bad
Precious all the same

But this is a memoir of moving on
Change is flowing
I can grasp the water
In cupped hands
But it escapes me
A cold and cruel dripping
Leaving me
But I must accept it
And forgive it of such fickle transgression
For such is life

You were drunk
I was sober
The night was nearly over
When you pulled me closer
My heart had sunk

I was tired
You were wired
With feelings you didn’t understand
You were living a dream
I was living a nightmare
I glanced at my phone
And it was nearly two-thirty

You look in my eyes
I looked at your lips
I could smell the scent of your lipstick
Bright, vivid, scarlet
In the full colouring of your lips, I could sense your glory
In the absence of my own
Upon your lips, I could almost kiss you

Your eyes were ever so blue
But ever so out of focus
You were drunk
I was sober
But you got me intoxicated just by whispering sweet nothings
Into my ears upon a head so heavy with loneliness and doubt
Your words were like the cruisers you had been drinking

I don’t understand how you can see such goodness in me
When my own faith has left me
Abandoned by a growing cynicism
Broken and torn down by myself
At the instructions of others

Your fingers brush the side of my head
A curl of my hair falls out of place so you push it back
You smile
You laugh
I smile
I swoon

She was wearing a wedding gown
In a high school gymnasium
She was at her wedding
I was at her wedding
And what a sweat-stained spectacle
It was

Numinous nineteen
Not a groom to be seen
She was the sole bride
I don’t even know who was
Sharing vows with her

I was in the audience
There were many people in the audience
She was up on stage
Gorgeous in a gown
A mad look in her eye
As her wretched hands
Held onto wretched flowers
But not a priest or a pastor
Not a groom-bride
Or a bride-bride
To be seen

Not even twenty
She was getting married
And I don’t know to who
So, I thought her a mad woman
No, a girl
A mad, mad girl
She is still so young

I refused to believe
That she
Of lily-white skin
And unmatched potential
Not yet used
For she had not yet lived
To the fullest extent
Would get married like this
Inelegant and stinking
Unintelligent
When she was of the most brilliant mind

She gave chase
Because I insulted her
Her and her wedding
Her wedding more like a funeral
To commemorate
The death
Of her sanity

Are you ******* high?
I asked
Revolt and horror in my voice
She held onto my shoulders
A crazed look in her eye

A question
Of obsession
Was her reply
When I realised
I know the girl
I know her face
I know her dress
But I do not know
Her mind
Her love
Her life

And reply
I cannot
Where questions
Meet more questions
Mark my losing virtues
With a grip like a vice
With an uneasy voice
She asked:
Do you hate me?

There is divinity in these cards
Shuffled by my uncertain hands
In search of something more in lands
Wherein dreams are true and guards
Knowledge unseen
By those unwilling to convene

I am the centrepiece of conversation
Mysticism upon a table laced
A spread of dealt cards spaced
Across a rotation
Of images and mysteries and clues
Which together will create a fuse;
A circus of circuitry which makes sense
To me but others find to be nonsense

There is a sound
Not unlike white noise
Sometimes words can be found
Other times words are destroyed
But it’s pleasant
By the grace of the omnipresent

The inked-on paper reveal of fate
A message by all which is ethereal
A message by all which is celestial
An ever-changing future
An ever happening present
A never changing past

A crucifix shadow hangs upon the light
Captured in awe before my line of sight
But of the shadowy Moon?
One may presume beauty and serenity
But that is not the truth
Illusions and anxiety
The subconscious and insecurity
Fears and the release of fears
Unhappiness and confusion

By dreams and intuition, I ponder questions
Yearning for suggestions
What may come to my life so soon:
What is next to the Moon?