the new millennium a battle for scraps
lions released upon
difference, the poor, choices not those of the keepers.

a loaf of bread
tiles balanced on the heads of relations
keeping out rain

homeless, threadbare peasants huddled
soft rocks
under drone surveillance, workers

packages dropped by insidious machines
images unseen
cameras shoot too

the power of malevolence
micro bombs
Hiroshima Death Park

they visited there on a slave break
from the unseen threat
enacting punitive whims

keeping everything rare
at the headland the dam flows
into a filthy stream

outside gates of steel reinforced
minions guarding a winter palace.
inside, a committee of charlatans

votes on the next to go
for another course of degustation.
hobos cold, tired, thin

targets without crosshairs
and it's there outside
what people think they see

human robots misread a glance
some concentrated glare
only then

goose-steppers shoot
at a flinch of skin
another one down

hills bulge with eucalypt dimples
valleys flow, ending nowhere
flocking rosellas, seed seekers
knowing where to go
tease each others hunger
wings flap over husk battles

in a room of art a friend from the distance
approaches a moniker
seconds later a recognition
leads over pavers to an afternoon
discussion of gone years
the odd siren

day slips behind a mountain
milky cloud planes deepening grey
horizon pink stripes
fade to washed orange
a crescent high in the sky
brightens with night's intent

preparing for a different adventure
dark means a return to nest
with fire, ceiling, an armchair
another silent scream
a boiling stove
new words to consider

late at night regrets pile up
so much ******* soaked in regret
it's hard to read the words any more
the codes of others are
jumbled static, a station difficult
to find. trying to tune into
some kind of future
a living severed by
a cruel taskmaster who beats the brow
smiling assassin
thinking of ways to cut the wine
already stripped
back to the marrow
the essencse of living is distant
stars in a stormy sky
you refused to respond when
compassion was called for
elements all out of balance
and it's too hard to know
where to go from here
the street map is so out of date
the money refuses to allow a better version
in a cul de sac a man spins
wearing glasses too dark
to find the way out

for Andre


you arrived as she slipped
into that mysterious abyss

for weeks the void filled
with warm hope

the touch of your skin
electrically comforting

shuddering under me
something overtook your eyes

grey pools that never closed
as we kissed and I tasted

the sweet salt of your lips
a searching hunger

I felt as well
after the family funeral

we met again with my grieving
tears on your shoulder

your arms surrounding my
stammering utterings

ironing out the words with
reassurances and the indication

of something deeper
than I've seen for so long

then there was nothing
but silence and another death

our interlude broken
axe through an antherium

I had sent you a photo of
one of their flowers

the last night I saw you

when the photos are packed
the end is nigh
when you don't want to think it
but you can't help that
the cell gets in
takes hold like cancer
i don't really mean that
you've been gentle
introducing me to all those people
who were kind but i never
expected that
i never knew you knew
what I was missing
the only piece of the puzzle
was how you fit things together
that shouldn't go there
and I type and I type
and the auto-delete never activated
so i can write more lines
and sniff a path through palms
and shrubs and other low bushes
we take the bread and confess
secrets no-one should know
and I'm still here
lighting another cigarette
that glows in the black
but says nothing of time
or paper that's worthy
but the need to be mean
to get back the money
overrules all else and shines
like a light in a fist
showing all the potential
I feel your removal
your fresh shoots in the tropical summer
your space for leftovers
the time to be quieter

filtered moon
your dull shine
illuminates scars
skin zippers
sealed and closed
keep the blood in

possum tail
a ragged trunk
a foe appears
hisses & spits
a star garland
the streetlight flickers

a year that ends
with hopes of change
a fire of irons
seasonal breezes
embers flare and
threaten roofs

droplets spot
extinguish danger
midnight strikes
a different tone
the song of a single
note

at 4am
with heavy lids
the dawn is nigh
sparkles fade
as dreams collide
their psychic cleanse

Lazarus left a final song
of mystery and awe
turning passing into another performance
recorded and acted with panache
you will always remain
a chain of memories
formative around my neck
you taught me everything
about the magic of music
about masquerades and disappearing
into another skin
to get your message across
cracked wires
you survived addiction
I am doing my best
luckily never had the funds to sink
so low
and now I read you owned a unit in Sydney
my hometown
and I would have loved more than anything
a random encounter
on the street, in a pub
just to nervously worship
at the altar of you