I'm your pilot
Self appointed.
Inexperienced
Brazen and stupid.
Flying solo here.
I can only trust myself.
Brace yourselves
I'm not responsible
If something goes wrong
Things happen all the time.
I'm your pilot.
People know of me
They write of me
Books and classrooms
faultless and brave
Chin up, baby!
I'm your pilot,
You're welcome.

For gods' sake,
Life, meet Weird.
Weird is your breath
And Weird your legacy.
Alas, You can't be alive
If You don't let Weird free.

I climbed giant boulders
to gather wild berries for you
A heavenly golden lake stretched
across your vision.

Unfazed by my generous offering
Oblivious to the dragonfly hovering
You drowned yourself in screen-time, buffering
I waded out alone.

I picture wrapping my legs around you
the air full of scents of homely comfort
a long day lightened with sweet laughter
our minds rest, immersed in fictional realms

But online games take away our nights
Political trivialities and football highlights
I sit and dream of smoldering fires on campsites
While you fall asleep alone.

In darkness I wrestle with the devil
for my piece of present moment, untainted
I beg for black viscous sleep to drown me
to wake without feeling half of me is gone

And you wrap me in the soft fabric of your skin
And you chase away the sprites to let the light in
And you breathe for my lungs as the attack glows dim
And it's just you and me alone.

I look back on them at times
And grimace at almost all of the rhymes
How dark and sinister, how lonely
Depression makes them feel boney
Jutting out like broken ribs
Each one their own screaming little kid
More funny poems please.

I need ones that say "I'm alive!"
I thrive, I survived and now baby I jive!
Moustache ready, bowler hat steady
Dancing in the fire with only my oven mitt
Baby I'm here and I'm ready to do it.
Climb that wall with all your jiggly bits.

Put away all that dark matter mystique,
Replace with crowd flashers and photocopied cheeks.

I just want my brain to bleed comical
***** historical anecdotal gold
Wax lyrical till my eyeballs bulge.
Just more funny poems please.

Doona, oh doona
stop teasing me you meaty pillow
waiting impatiently in my room-a

I've had a long day
my feet have turned to clay
And I just want to climb inside
your soft womb-a

Whether at my feet on summer nights
Or mornings frosted, dark and wintery
All else is stale, mediocre cloth
You're always the doona for me.

Doona, oh sweet, sweet doona
Hug me under the light of the moon-a
Don't ****** me from afar
Spread-eagled in my room-a.

I learned in those years
That intensity was a sin
And sensitivity was the mark
Of an emotional wreck.
A girl in touch with
Her wild wild feminity
Is to scorn, to control
And wrap in tissue paper
Gingerly placed in the corner
Of the top drawer.

I am day by day
Unwrapping slowly, thank God.

Swollen eyes,
These headaches
Tell me to stay present
Do not fear
We're one and the same
The pulse of each vein.
This noise
These sounds
Are not like the others.
Sweet syrup,
And warm embrace
Drown out the buzzers.
This music,
The sky,
Breathe in the filtered light
Just breathe.

"I already matter,
I already matter"
What she whispered to me
Low frequency,
And,
Gently removing the zip ties of my youth,
Sang Rocket Man just under her breath
To no-one in particular.

"I already matter"
That slap-in-the-face truth
Words impossible to unpick from my teeth.
But right there,
She just breathed into being
A delectable bite-sized epiphany
For only my ears.

"I already matter"
A song of logic with such obviousness
The gods synchronized their eye-rolls
In response
Yet somehow we ****** up the lyrics
-they're passed down, that's why-
From wars, and hate and Ashmedai.

"I already matter,
I already matter"
She's here again...
And I think it's going to be a long long time
Till touchdown brings me 'round again to find...

Compete never

Never worth that fight

Fight only for innocence

Innocence runs through you

You are alive

Alive, but not awake

Awake the dormant innocence

Innocence that runs through you

You fight only to compete

Compete never

Amidst the humidity and darkness of the forest floor
ants scurry in hyper-speed over invisible highways
mushrooms spread boldly beneath wise wooden giants

At night, black panthers weave through thick overgrowth,
undetected, as birds quieten their hungry young and sleep
But even in the rich darkness of the dense forest
micro flashes of silken pink and yellow cream can be seen
catching the moon's light, glowing like precious gems

By day these colours dim in their translucent chambers
atop the world's most beautiful, fearless caterpillar

This tiny being boldly ventures from one leaf to another
while all others cower underneath
Its crystal spikes hide only soft, sticky goo
and it is no bigger than a fingernail

But don't be fooled by its size and raw beauty,
this bejeweled crown easily summons its strength
to move faster than the angry west winds

Its beauty comes not only from its form
but in its lion-hearted spirit and grace

This confident caterpillar lives
and surrenders to change
without the leaden shackles of fear and worry

and when the time comes
she embraces
and is transformed again
to something new.

I want to touch your base,
I want to touch base.
Now we're gonna circle back
To our circle ****.
Feel the warmth of my regards
Deep in your archive folders.
Savour the tingling of my best wishes,
Between your table of contents.
I want to touch your base,
I want to touch base.

When grief knocks sheepishly but persistently
When anger kicks at my ear drums
When fear hugs me closely, a little too tightly
When I talk to those who formed my inner voices
When thoughts crowd out my breathing
When souls weep over their losses
When sleep backs down after it's fight with stress

When delicate petals and sprouts brave the weather valiantly
When big blue eyes smile back up at me
When rains soak and nourish and my bed beckons
When innocent discussions bond hearts
When he holds my hand while half asleep
When the blissful aroma and taste of hot tea fills my senses
When the cleansing ocean spray makes my skin come alive
When soft music puts my tired mind to sleep like a baby

My voice is not sick.
My heart does not lack charge
And my fingers rest beautifully.

My wires are impeccably engineered.
My brain is alight with knowing
And my belly, understanding.

Tell me, what does yours say?
Does it lie to you?

Our voices are not sick
Our words are not misguided.
We simply know you well,
And suffer for it.

The system robbed my father
Of his soul
And silenced my mother
Of her will

They are two young leaves
Glabrous and magnificent
Spinning atop a torrent.

Unaware of their power,
And stubborn in their fear,
They placed a finger on my lips
And never took it off.

Wrapped in a pink cotton blanket,
Warmed and fed, alive
A storm rises in my mind,
a scene of deep forest, a child.

Hidden amongst shoes,
Marbles and a flashlight,
Dancing in space and in orbit,
A lone soul in its element.

Blank face and sullen eyes,  
A sponge to emotion and to fear
Every week another era,
Tempestuous ebb and flow, tears.

She rides her bike, dreaming away
Another rat in a rusty wheel
Looking for solace, peace and purpose,
Something solid and something real.

Undulating waves and frantic logic
Depths of darkness and wells of joy
Inability to fit the mold,
Painful transparency and unsatisfying toys.

Now she's melting into the song of the violin
The tiptoe of piano
The urgency of symphony
The strength of the drum solo.

The feminine, the masculine
The old and young, near and far
She is all in all,  
A cascading waterfall
A torrent
A body no more.

What right do you have to lie there so beautiful,
So far away?

I am bathed in the shadow of your gaze as I write this,
And trying to follow the map of grief drawn, to meet you.

Transport me, my glimmer, to your dissociative place.
We'll sit there in silence.

If I could soar at will,
Less escape, more exploration, until
I found an ocean too wide
Or a glacial peak about to cleave

If I could rise and trace the topography
Like fingertips over worn leather
Inhaling scents of all our lives
And ride in the slipstream of an eagles' feather

If I could,
If I could just

Be weightless within the heart of the stratus
Tip toe over the bristle of a giant spruce
High-five a handsome window washer
Or soak up the light of a meadow chartreuse

White notions of superiority
Blessed under white lights
Souls sold
Between punched holes
Ring binders brim-full
***** overfills
Scripted words
Meals of rotten platitudes.

Here is my grateful smile
Here is my pleated skirt
Here is my servitude

Loosen your

Chains,
Brains,
*****,

Your vowels
And your bowels

You are my lover
My only lover
Whom the world
Shows its colour
And when you need
A tasty other
I am yours to smother

You are my well-girthed king
My only king
Hotter than a thermal spring
Pull on my apron string
Undress me
And impress me
****** me with your violin

Play me like a pan flute
My lover, my brute
Stroke my ego
My resolve is dilute
And you, my broken parachute
Will be my demise