Are we not all witnesses?
Are we not all victims?
Are we not all perpetrators?
Of the crime of ****** by life....

Have you ever reached a crossroad in your life and with complacency or with fear of what left or right offers or entails, at high speed powered on, only to find it was actually a T junction?
Only then you realise that life has no reverse gear and that some walls are very hard?

Truly it inspires me to visit the ether on which you pen.
To speak of things of who I am,
and of my times of "when".
To see the universes you've painted all revolving there.
To understand that not all voices,
are tainted by despair.
In a universe of darkness no shadow could I see.
Shouting words into the pitch,
I thought only heard by me.
I take the time to thank you all whether you write or read.
For in my place of darkness,
you have planted starlight's seed.

Do you see clear the coast at hand.
And know the side to which you stand.
Are your feet safe in the sand.
Or do you flounder in the waters band.
Is your strength firm on the land.
Or will sea hold sway through its command.
Will you follow the seas demand.
Or pull for shore with oars all manned.
To steer the course that life has planned.

So many poems to inspire and convey every passion.
Expression of every emotion, thought and consciousness of place.
Of all the poetic words ever written none speaks so loud as a famous but anonymous and often quoted Australian line of verse...

" *uck me.... I stuffed it.... its *ucked".

No line has held the heartache, self disgust, resentment and sense of loss and desperate despair so concisely. Its brevity adding to its beauty. A full story in a line.
For non Aussies they may not see its beauty... but for an Aussie its high emotion in a nutshell.

If I could live my life just to repair my mistakes...
To turn left when I went right or right when I should have gone left...
To unhurt those I have hurt...
I think I would be one hundred and eighty nine when I was done.
How can so many lifetimes bear the knowing of me?
Even but briefly.
Cause and effect, choice and consequence.... the physics of human non physicality.

If you would just stop making choices....
I could live by something more than consequence....
If I promised the same to you would you not be at rest too?
No choice. No consequence.... nothing.
Isolated, contented.... safe..... nothing.

Through kisses we came to be here.
Soft curves of flesh revealed and traced by fingertips inspired.
To feel the rise and fall of silent, restful breaths and to touch true restfulness.
To savor the miracle of it and so gentle so as not to disrupt it.
Lips seeking to follow in finger's path so as to know the sensation of the sights.
Along neck and shoulder by delicate procession giving the sense of touch new meaning
With fingertip and lips, with sight and by scent to know the gift that has been given.
To feel through touch of skin and the tangle of limbs a feeling so peaceful and at rest.
Lips pressed to lips in the softest and most tender way so that they seem to be as one.
Gentle movements as hands and eyes and mouths explore the sense of being of one soul.
Conversations between eyes, devoid of ears, speaking both of fire and contentment.
Intimate caresses shared and without thought to keeping secret the soul's desires.
Passions and lusts, loves and dreams converging to bring true peace of mind and body.
Locked in embrace, in heart, in mind and in memory your kiss is my highest point.
All else is without sensation or fire or purpose without it

Where there is a will there is... a dead relative.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel... but no one has ever seen it.

Every cloud has a silver lining... the gold ones have already sold.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to see it... the loggers make a killing.

It costs an arm and a leg... but its way cheaper than getting married.

You can lead a horse to water... just follow the stink of dead fish.

Is your glass half full or half empty... then hurry up its your round.

If the shoe was on the other foot... you would look pretty stupid.

Better late than never... especially if you only met her/him once.

Invisible is the wall that holds me back.
Things of beauty I can see beyond it.
Gazing upon wonders that are cast in light.
Light that calls and draws me to it with a longing.
Many faceted are my eyes as I observe beyond the barrier.
Headlong and in frenzy I pound upon the invisibility.
Despite the constant beat of my wings, I cannot break through.
The wall holds firm and I am trapped.
My power to fly freely is utterly diminished.

Seven billion poets and rising. Fourteen billion ears and no one can hear.

If my words go unread and my voice goes unheard, did I ever exist.

I don't know if a bear did but I did when I was camping.

If we call the start a big bang when it goes will it be the little whimper or the even bigger bang?

Is it true that ****** shoes are nailed on?

I used to be on hormone therapy.... but she put up her prices.

I have spoken with young men,
who were forced to up and run.
Seen the wounds they carry,
from the barrel of someones gun.

I have Spoken with women,
women with tears in eyes that burn.
As they relate what was done,
because they wanted just to learn.

Ive seen teenage girls running,
in fear for their own lives.
Because someone has told them,
they must become someones wives.

I sat with the old men,
whose spirit would not yield.
And heard how rains of bombs,
were dropped upon their field.

I have heard the many stories,
of families torn apart.
Heard of those still missing,
and the pain in fragmented heart.

I've heard of persecutions,
because of the differing of views.
The scores of people disappeared,
without even making evening news.

I met with many others,
and watched and heard them pray.
Running in fear because for them,
it means death to live your life as gay.

I have talked with the children,
all facing life alone.
Parents not seen,
since the houses all got blown.

These most horrible of all things,
most of you will never see.
But someone needs to tell you
these are the lives lived for many a refugee.

When purpose, hope, dreams and future are gone and you know with certainty that all there is, is a past..... do you still see beauty in a sunrise?
When loathing a new dawn becomes your reality and despair lays as far as you can see, can you forgive those who lead you here?
Can you value your worth or forgive yourself for the mistakes you made along the way?
When all you have touched are gone or have either abandoned or been abandoned.... where does "stupidity" start to become reality? Do you see the sunrise and believe that you have reached the point of ultimate "stupidity"? The sun will always rise... must you avoid "stupidity" forever?
When you reach out a hand and there is none willing to take it how can sunrise hold any joy?
I am burdened by the expectations of those who would have me view endless sunrises.... they hold me back from reality to keep their dreams and hopes at the values they instill them with.
They fear "stupidity".
If you live here then we are neighbors you and I.... we share the same sunrise.

Why is there only light at the end of the tunnel? Dont you know there are people lost in here?

When someone tells you not to worry.... "it may never happen".... you can be pretty sure they have never had the same bad **** happen twice.

Once you lose respect for a persons right to be wrong you are always wrong and if I am wrong that's my right.

Respect.... give it to get it.... if you don't then you shouldn't be surprised at what you get in return.

When the positives just serve to remind you of how badly you have failed. When the negatives become the norm and the expected. When tears are a constant companion. When self loathing is your reaction to a mirror. When hope and love become just four letter words.
You will know my logic.... you will know my life. You will understand the futility....
I never want any of you to understand. I couldn't wish understanding on you.

I don't write of things of beauty even though I have seen it.
I don't write of things of joy even though I have felt it.
I don't write of happiness even though I have experienced it.
I don't write of hope even though I once trusted in it.
I don't write of love even though I have witnessed it.
I don't write of sense of purpose even though I once had it.
I don't write of companionship even though I knew it.
I don't write of trust even though I once could do it.
I don't write of belief though faith once made me see it.
I write of despair for once I knew them all.

I have a friend who is a surgeon a career of his decision.
Performing tonsillectomy and frequent circumcision.
Another friend who only meets with lepers lives by prostitution.
Both taking paths in life to live by their chosen best solution.
Both very different careers by choice and so many passing ships
Both surviving and living well and both taking lots of tips.

I stood and took my bearings my mind bare of thought.
Into my view came a bear bearing a *******.
The ******* on the bear back was bare.
Barely had I seen them when their bearings altered.
Bearing straight for me I barely had time to bear away.
Beyond me now and bearing for the Bering Strait.
I watched a bare bottom and a bear bottom bearing straight for there.
Re-telling this is barely bearable and certainly more than most can bear.
I know not what became of the bear and the bare ******* but at least Ive got this stuff out of my head.... sorry if its left you bearing the pain.

Have you seen the mice all running, running in their wheel.
"Knowing" and "believing", what are delusions, to them is "real".
Rarely seeing other mice outside the wheel they're in.
Only time for thinking of keeping their own wheel on spin.
So happy and contented when they are spinning there.
So many trivialities that to them equal despair.
Keep the wheel a spinning, a spinning at a pace.
Never knowing that following circles just takes you to no place.
Mice ask me why I have no wheel and treat me as though I am lost.
I once did tread my wheel my delusions unable to sustain the cost.
Watching countless wheels without sense spinning on and on.
From beyond the wheel my delusions shattered, have now all gone.
Without a wheel there seems no purpose no reason to try and spin.
But once seen outside of wheels there seems no way to get back in.

I sought help from you and all your kind.
To fix the cracks formed in my mind.
I reached out because all was dark.
In desolation without a spark.
Consulting you because my mind had flipped.
I don't recall the name of pills on that script.
So many now that have come and gone.
So many kinds you've had me on.
My mind and body with side effect.
Years and years of that neglect.
Going cold while changing types.
Try something new with all its hypes.
Still waving like a drowning man.
And despite my plea no change of plan.
Is this all your education can do?
What really is the point of you?
Years of drugs and threats of E.C.T
Do you know the new cracks you made for me?
I wont medicate this stuff not one more pill.
Not one of my mental cracks did it fill.
Feeling better just being drug free.
Thank you Doc for helping me.

I sometimes take time to write a few lines of verse.
Quite often to express feelings to prevent them getting worse.
Often I express things that are there as thoughts in my own head.
Sometimes its just things that I feel have needed to be said.
I don't always consider the impact or repercussions of things that I may write.
And I don't seek to make it all rhyme as a way for me to seem all bright.
I find it the best way to express how conflicted I can feel.
Inside my head it helps my thoughts focus on what I see as "real".
You may not understand the emotions or maybe share my train of thought.
But I will write how I think and how I feel even if against things we've all been taught.
Its my way of expressing "truths" that I just need others to try and see.
In part an explanation of why I cant be the way others would like for me to be.
I write these lines as often as I am compelled to want to do.
To give understanding and to express the things my mind perceives as true.
Whether challenge or expression of lies life has forced me to be taught.
I use the writing of these words to patch the walls of my emotional fort.
I write the verse as a glimpse beyond my fragile fortress wall.
I do it so all can see my sanity was dented by its fall.
There is little I can do about the glimpses you may choose to see.
Knowing that what you spy beyond the wall is not every part of me.
The words are how I perceive the world not to influence thoughts in your head.
But maybe...you have some understanding of me... from these words that now are read.

As I grow much older and my senses begin to fade. My hearing never good.
I have come to ponder how we feel and think so alike in many ways.
Are we not the same? Do we not share dreams?
I have come to think we are all one soul.
So many people have shouted this at me over time.... "You are an Our Soul"....
I have come to believe it and I think they are too.

How can it be that your words describe what I have seen?
How can the words you write describe the path I have trodden?
Bumps and hills, hurdles, smiles... how do you know them?
Are my thoughts, experiences all so openly seen that you have access?
Were you following, reading minds, perhaps spying or stalking?
Even my thoughts and emotions in precise framing in your words.
Are you me in some other form I have until now never seen?
How can you understand me and know me when we have never met?
You were not there when I lived these things. How can you know them?
Our pathways in different lands, at different times and yet you write me.
How can we share these footprints and yet never meet?

A meeting place for souls.
A place long yearned for.
Where voices of souls can be heard and faces do not matter.
Perceptions long seen voiced out aloud for the first time.
All have voices here, telling and hearing things in whispers and shouts. Confronting, supporting, abrupt and with passion.
Exploring ideas and taking thought to word... sharing, caring, provoking, prompting, inspiring.
Even the darkness exposing hidden corners and giving illumination not just to those who dwell there.
Through different eyes to view and to see things as others do.
To challenge worlds and thoughts and deeds and to be challenged.
Strengthening spirits in common bond and causing them to touch.
Opinions challenged or affirmed, shared, exposed, familiar and the alien.
An expansive view that even Everest could not provide even at its peak.
Horizons expanded, explained, witnessed and encountered.
A world so wide that time would not allow a single soul to travel its vastness and to be witness.
A place where love and hope, fear and sadness through words can take on forms we all can see.
Inspiration, excitement, challenge, discovery and kindred spirits all reside here.
I like it here among these souls with voice and thoughts and ideas.
Too numerous to "like" them all but "like" them all I do.
Beautiful things can be seen for the first time and the eyes of others give me the eyes to see.
Veiled expression of things I have never seen giving hint and glimpses of scenes with meaning to others. Reminding me I will never see it all.
But here I see more than I have in so very long. Sights of laughter, sadness, despair and joy in a mixture so deep. Beautiful souls live in this place and I feel good when among them.

I am told I see my glass half empty
I should see it half full when I look at it
Empty or full either way I see a glass containing ****

Some of you write of love and its passion and softest touch.
Do you not know the savage weaponry of which you speak?
Has the blade never sliced 'til core exposed you feel nothing?
Have you never been lured by the soft whispers it entreats with?
And with a rage so harsh seen your very heart torn from you?
Loves romance with keys to fit your every defense leaving exposure?
Vulnerability you wouldn't volunteer in moments of sanity.
Of loves passion, it is a trap. So far will you fall when it springs.
A wound so deep is love that you will never feel whole again.
Tender caresses of flesh to captivate and weaken your mind.
Luring and dulling the common sense and with blade at ready.
You are drawn to that deceptive softness, the apparent warmth.
And yet still love is armed with throat and heart as targets.
Entrapped you give way to the hold of it, the thought of it.
Loves power will take your soul and crush it and leave it dust.
And yet like you I crave it still and insanity causes me to think....
This time love will be kind.

Do you see your purpose as accumulation of wealth?
Do you make such things your social standings health?
Is it what drives you and gives you all your worth?
Is it what you were told gave purpose so shortly after birth?
Do you live each moment trying to add another buck?
Were you taught when very young you cant rely on luck?
Do you seek more property to add comfort to your plight?
Do you check the market for profits won throughout the night?
Do you count and tally all the notes that you can hold?
Do you calculate all you've traded, paid for, bought or sold?
Do you know the faces on every type of bill?
Is the pile getting ever higher and climbing higher still?
Do you make money from the lowly when they are forced to fight?
Do you really call this purpose and see it as your right?
Is your life for paper with a slogan proclaiming "In God We Trust"
I'm not alone in praying, one day God will send you bust.

Outside my door is a world where once I did dwell.
But through my window now I see a living hell.
I moved among that place and the people living there.
But now I cannot enter it without feelings of despair.
I cannot tell to you exactly what changed inside of me.
But I can no longer fit within the shape I used to be.
Did the window I once looked through view another place?
I ponder what I see and note changes to that space.
Outside used to make sense and I joined it with true lust.
But now it holds no value and no truths that I can trust.
Sometimes I have to enter there that place outside my door.
But nothing familiar awaits me there at least nothing that I saw.
The people there can see me and I feel their judging glare.
Always trying to remind me that I am alien when I am there.
When I get home and feel relief by the sealing of my door.
I make a vow to myself not to trespass outside space no more.
With much anxiety transpired through the yessing and the no.
When days have passed and once again to outside I must go.
So difficult to think of outside and I once dwelling there.
Opening doors and passing through seemingly without a care.
Passing through so many times in the blinking of an eye.
Not dithering and putting off as days and days go by.
To relate this sense to you may leave your mouths agape.
But its those things outside that dented me this new shape.

I look upon my list of friends arranged out on this page.
And there are people on it from my life's every stage.
There are family in a distant land where I lived once as a boy.
I remember them and love them and they fill my heart with joy.
Family less distant and sometimes close enough to touch.
To my older sisters I love you both so much.
Others there among you from when I was but a kid.
Bonded forever to me because of things once shared we did.
There is one of you who helped in the most practical of ways.
Who provided material things so I could rebuild my future days.
One or two among you who worked right there at my side.
Who stood beside me at times when I struggled on this ride.
Even those among you who only know me through this page.
Who took the time to touch me and helped me face the rage.
One of those among you who passed not so long ago.
As a friend she loved me and as a dear friend I loved her so.
One of you bonded to my heart in the most special of ways.
From memories and then seeing you that has made for better days.
I wanted to thank you all as friends you fill my heart with pride.
I doubt I could have got this far without you standing at my side.

I've been walking all alone in a sideshow
There has been passion and pain on this ride
There is a voice I hear calling
The voice rises from my souls very inside

For a time I didn't know what was calling
With my head as if lost at sea
But today I knew what was calling
It was all of my choices taunting me

I think of the people here in the sideshow
Like me they wonder around so confused
Every day they make their choices
But which ones do they choose?

We all go through life with choices
All as a blind man feeling his way
Always hoping for good choices
Ones that encourage the passion to stay

Passion can thrive on our choices
It can make our most memorable day
But a badly considered choice
Can chase forever our passion away

My trip has been filled with choices
Some rough and some divine
I have dealt with my choices
I have dealt with many that weren't mine

I am here near the end of the sideshow
I look back to where I have been
My eyes are filled with loneliness
I have lost most of the passion I've seen

When you get near the end of your sideshow
I hope you have learned from my way
I hope you make choices
That allows all your passions to stay

There are too many days..... I cant do this many days. Too many days where darkness wins. Fate laughs endlessly. I am Fate's comedic performer and he laughs without end. Like a donkey behind a carrot I am led and with the rasp of a donkey's bray Fate's laughter rings in my ears.
I don't think I can do this. Where joy is substituted by despair and happiness succumbs to death.... and the symphony of laughter is the tune. The strings on this puppet are frayed and worn but the puppeteer is relentless. How do you fix the strings of a puppet in motion? Who will catch the puppet if he falls? I can hear no answers above the laughter that rings in my ears and so this puppet on tattered strings dances on to the tune that Fate maintains. How long is a piece of string? It matters not if the string can carry no weight.

Have you looked upon a western sky at a certain time of day?
When the endless turning of the world compels the sun to go away.
Have you looked across an open plain with soil of rust red brown?
And seen the brightest evening star burn bright as jewel in crown?
Have you seen the stands of trees fade into the black of night?
And watched them all but disappear as day makes final rays of light.
Have you seen upon the far horizon the shapes of ancient lands?
And watched the changing light show of radiant, fiery bands.
Have you seen the shades of fire change the western sky?
And marveled at all its beauty until it wets your very eye.
Have you taken time to note every shade in fiery hue?
And marveled at flame red clouds upon a sky of pastel blue.
Have you stood and watched the glory as it slowly fades away?
Dont despair and make the time, as it happens every day.

Is life just a board-game dependent on some randomly thrown dice?
Are our lives as we see them or are we trapped like some fake mice?
Do we make our own way based on what we learn and know?
Or are we all just using time as we stumble onto "go"?
Do we ride on ladders taking paths we choose to make?
Or are we all just reaching to slide some fateful snake?
Are we just here to gather immense piles of materials and loot?
Or is that not just the most of all trivial of all pursuit?
Are we playing Ludo set on a board in which we roam?
And are all the other players just out to beat us home?
Are we but just players in an organized wordly mess?
Are we born to pawn or king on a battlefield of chess?
Perhaps you have had those times when you search for some life fix?
You roll your di as best you can but you just never roll a six?
Have you shared kind words with a friend going through life's crap?
And all the time your mind is thinking are we all just playing snap?
Is it all just winning at the ending of the day?
Or are important things the rules by which we choose to play?
Each seem on different boards as we struggle in the race.
No consistency of choice, in time, of hope, nor certainty of place.
What determines pawn or king as I stumble along my way?
And will I know if I'm fulfilled when my board gets packed away?

Are you strong enough each and every day?
Are you forever strong enough to keep the dark away?
Can you control your mind and remember how it is you're made?
Can you keep the dark at bay even when you are totally afraid?
Do you function in a way so that people cannot see?
Do you operate as the world expects that you are meant to be?
Are things hidden from the eyes of those who love and care?
Are you able to cope when those who matter aren't even aware?
Can you keep enough of you to win the battles that you must?
Can you in-spite of everything remember how to trust?
Do you enter every day just planning to survive?
Do you get to sunset and feel joy or sadness to be alive?
Are you able to carry on through a thick darkness that numbs?
Are you able to face the familiarity of tomorrow when it comes?
Can you see the conception of things that give rise to hope?
Can you maintain focus as you are riding down your *****?
Do you live a life where you ask yourself these things?
Do you feel its all the same no matter what tomorrow brings?
Are you able to support as I deal with things how they seem?
Can I do all I can to face my incessant internal scream?
And......
Do I have the strength to hang on to everything I dream?

Do you think of those who enter into your world every single day?
Do you see the things they do and hear the words they have to say?
Do they influence the way you think and occasionally react?
Are there those among them with-whom you hold a pact?
Have you those you cherish and greet with every kind of joy?
Are there those among them there by the tolerance that you employ?
Do you see them as they really are or as you choose to do?
And when they return the look do they see the real you?
If you changed your path would they follow you on your way?
Or do you know that any change would bring the ending of a day?
Do you see them and in return do they see the real you?
Or do you kid each other to keep the things mutually you give and do?
Would the changing of your step bring something to an end?
And if it did would that be the measure of someone once called friend?
As these people pass and come and go or linger on their way.
Do they really see and hear you and let you influence their day?
Can it all be measured by what we give and take?
And who among them all is there for love and your own sake?
Have these things been tested in the life you choose to live?
Who is there to take from you but will never choose to give?
If you changed your life to take on some new guise.
Would you see friends who stuck with you and witness love with your own eyes?

Have you felt the darkness in the middle of the day?
Have you felt the brush of ghosts you just cant keep away?
Do you know your value or just wonder at your worth?
Do you wish for somewhere else other than this Earth?
Have you felt your weakness and hidden it inside?
Have you been so low that there is no form of pride?
Do you feel you stand alone and have nowhere left to go?
Do you sense there is no end to the depths of your own woe?
Have you lost the path and felt a falter in your stride?
Have you seen your dreams desert you to vanish as they've died?
Do you know this darkness of which I choose to tell?
Do you know the pain of it and the never ending hell?
Have you groped the dark for a hand you hope is there?
Have you fumbled in the dark for a ghost with time to care?
Do you know the emptiness of this unforgiving space?
Do you feel the staring eyes and so choose to hide your face?
Have you seen in shadow others as by random they pass through?
Have you cowered in the dark understanding they cant touch you?
Do you, as I do wish a light could reach you there?
Do you know the shape of light to bring an ending to despair?

When the last of those you trust have pushed you to the side.
And you can see and think of nothing but the ever rising tide.
When there is no joy left for you and you see no way to turn.
And the pain just sears at you like a ever scorching burn.
When you feel the tears are pressing behind your very eyes.
And you see no hope left to you after failing all your tries.
When your heart is refused and not taken by those you wish to give.
And no matter the miles to the horizon you see nothing compelling you to live.
When all you feel is empty and you hurt way down inside,
And you just have no more tears and there is nothing left of pride.
When all you have left to you is lonely, dark despair,
Keep an eye out for me.... I am already waiting there.

Just a few more comments to an earlier post of rhyme.
Where I touched upon how I am seeing different rates of time.
Seems a man named Einstein discovered long ago.
That there was a different perception of seeing time in flow.
He says that if you are moving toward me I will see you shades of blue.
And while you move toward me you are that colour until you pass through.
Those who have been and gone will turn to shades of red.
No I swear that I am serious, it is what Einstein has said.
So I have my answer as to why time moves slow for me.
You are all in motion and I'm stuck where I used to be.
I think I already knew this and suspected it as truth.
But I never expected Albert Einstein would be my proof.

Trying to fill the days and forcing them to go.
Finding there are too many in a never ending flow.
What to do with time that never seems to end.
Seemingly more hours than with which I can contend.
Playing games and dithering just to pass the time away.
Sleeping endless moments and still finding its today.
Why do all the days seem so very long?
What choice did I make to make time ebb so wrong?
I know it hasn't always passed or seemed to happen in this way.
But oh so long ago since they were all a twenty four hour day.
No rhythm or regularity in times pattern anymore.
Why so many hours and what are the days all for?
I used to measure days by the passing of the sun.
But many times I sleep and of daylight I see none.
You may think I have control of all rhythms in these things.
But why control the repetition tomorrow always brings?
If I sleep eight times and I eat just only three.
Is that not a measure of how long my week should be?
Must I sleep just seven and eat per some schedule too?
Will I then contend with time as I am meant to do?
Will days take new meaning and my hours hold more reward?
Or will the extra hours awake just make me much more bored?
If I sleep twelve times and I eat when I have need to.
Aren't the days still the same length both for me and you?
Do we really share the same cycle if I view it on my own?
Or does time really move much slower for those who are alone?