not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong

We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright

We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection

In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears

for it was never my intention
to be a puppet with a frown
perhaps you won't believe it
sitting under a liars crown

I've cut myself for long enough
that blood is my middle name
basking naked upon a concrete slab
I've oft been fed back my own shame

so take all these letters, mix them up
juggle them gaily to become verbose
for they have fallen,  at feet
that have stopped walking
just litter, ash, carrion at most

So kiss me on lips
coated in poison

and wish me well

For I am off to a more acrid clime
where secrets will often tell
that hiding behind a wordsmiths spine
will see me burn in hell

is it worth tears?
pain aside, the first time
who didn't cry?

The hill so steep
gasping breath
collapsing mid step
the hill
a mound
without a sound
the stream is crossed
no more than a trickle
of tears
after so many
years
You climbed
a mountain
I tripped
into a puddle
tears are covert
mis stepped
to an uneven beat
angry limbs
form a defensive
huddle
tears warm
cold places
falling from eyes
blurred
that watch you
sleep

Dream My Sweet

as I drown

I found a dollar
I picked it up
at lunch
at the Pub
I feed it to the
Pokie Machines
(I never use my own money)

I won another dollar

So I kept pressing
the flashing button
Not understanding
the symbols falling
as it added
more and more
dollars to the ***

After a while
it had reached ten dollars

(to me that's a lot)

Hit Collect
Listen to gold hit tin
scooped them up
cashed them in

Dropped them
into my handbag
Only nine coins tinkled
one had made

it's own escape

Looked back at Goliath
a little old lady
had paused
Bent lower (than ever)
plucked at sticky carpet
came up with one dollar
I smiled
because
it was
the dollar
I picked up
Salute to old Lady
$100 now in her pocket

Both our days made

Better by a dollar ;)

Why can't I be as pretty as the little girl
that sits next to me at work, she seems
all long legs and golden skin,
20 long years younger
thin body poured into size 6 jeans

Why can't I be pretty like that?

I wish I was as pretty on the beach
next to the bikini clad lovelies
all long haired and impressive assets
Why can't I be like that?

I wish I was as pretty as my friend
sitting next to her on a barstool
crowded away from her, male backs
facing me, surrounding her, I'm a fool!

I wish I was pretty
or even attractive
or even winsome
or cute
or

or

or

I wish, I wish
Oh, how I wish
I could be an entree
even if I'm not
the main dish

or

or

The fish
caught on the hook
an acceptable catch
not to have the hook
ripped from my flesh
just to be thrown back

I wish I was pretty
I'm positive I was one day
Someone loved me once
and my children say

Mummy, you look so pretty
when I decide to make an effort
but no matter how hard I look
in the mirror
I just can't make their words fit!

I wish I was pretty
a beautiful disguise
I wish I was pretty
in my eyes

twisted tines of silken thread
turn truistic vines of dread
into total truisms that fed
on tectonic overtures

turnstiles of treacle thin
ties, that tickle skin
and whisper tactile lies
turn tiny faces to taciturn skies

Tiptoe across a threadbare rug
tiny traces kiss treads remembrance

Touching histories of true memories
Tugging threads tight in a trance

down the hallway
where destiny led
inside a room
where inhibitions shed
white miracles bled
I’ll lay my head
to dream beneath
a non de plume
I’m not me, are you?

riotous beauty will bloom
where it is aptly
coveted
smell the sweet perfume
told our sweet, sensual song
will long be often
coveted,
down the hallway
where destiny led

But this is reality.

What I am thinking, believing,
She, I,
cannot speak to you...it is that

On the edge of Saturn,
watching 3 moons
sink and burn
drowning sorrows
in a intergalactic tavern.

I just can't find
the energy to believe,
so I keep asking,
who is inside my body?
not you, not him,
who is me inside of me?

On the edge of me,
is not the endless roses or
the fact they seem
to placate themselves in repose.

It is not even the field
of riotous color
that undulates endlessly,
what I was led
to believe.

Not even the heady scent
that has slowed my feet,
can compete
with what I believed,
and what now,
no longer do...