It is what lies in between the meeting of our bodies,
the gaps which cannot be filled
that hold the currents of all the possibilities.
Leaving prickles on our skin,
places that may look empty,
are filled with a tension that captures every breath.

It is what lies in between all the words that we speak,
when there is too much to say
that hold all the secrets too big for our fragile ears.
So words remain unspoken,
until the air in between,
swells and it swallows us whole, leaving  no space at all.

Promises hang loosely from the lips
But heavy on the soul

Your kindness feels illicit
Like an intimate brush of fingertips
Your smile touches my soul
Like a kiss to the corner of my mouth
Your presence heats my dreams
Like a moment stolen in the darkness
And your praise lays me bare
So there is nothing and everything between us

Your presence is here
But I’m walking alone
And I’m forced to remember
It’s now a house not a home
It holds many memories
But with time some will fade
Both forgetting and remembering
Now makes me afraid
At night dreams bring comfort
But with day comes the dread
Childhood nightmares have changed
Now they’re living instead
It’s a funny thing time
How it keeps moving on
But I’m caught between frames
Of you being here and then gone

When the night sky expands in front of you until the stars are out of reach,

And the weight of the darkness holds you still…

You’re trapped looking at the beauty you are aching to touch,

But Knowing you never will.

There was an incessant reporting
That a virus was warring
Heading to the shores of the great land of Aus.
But our blind self deceiving
Had us disbelieving
Though the doubt couldn’t stop what already was.

And so as the virus arrived
We were ordered inside
But not before stocking cupboards with care.
There were limits on buying
Though not all were complying
The shelves at the supermarket were practically bare.

Lists of measures in place
There to keep us all safe
Felt like a relinquish of our control.
And though most were trying
There was no denying
The lack of connection was taking its toll.

Then came the vaccination
That divided the nation
When what we needed was to stay strong.
But with tensions so taut
It’s no wonder we fought
Though it would’ve been easier if we’d got along.

The days turned to nights
As what we thought were our rights
Turned out to be privilege we hadn’t prized.
So when the restrictions eased
Much more than just pleased
Many of our priorities were revised.

Now those times seem so distant
But there are reminders persistent
Of a time when we couldn’t just be.
So visit those that you miss
And lean in for that kiss
Remember it’s a gift to be free.

Caught between the elasticity of time and the rigidness of a 9am Monday meeting…

Innocence woven into cotton, pulled down, stretched and snapped.
Fingers trailing, tracing and leaving flesh branded by hot fingertips.
Fabric forgotten and crumpled on the floor, replaced by a fine coating of goosebumps dressing milky white skin.
Air thickened with sticky, salty secrets, hanging around like a morning fog.
The filtered light through curtains highlights the place where virtue meets experience and the cotton, now misshapen tells a tale.

She sat at the table
Where she nodded and bled,
Blood dripped to her plate
And her dinner turned red.
But nobody noticed
Because they were all fed,
And her posture was straight
And they liked what she said.
So she choked down her dinner
And kept the mood light,
Then cleaned the blood from the carpet
As she bid them goodnight.

She smiled through the unease
And accepted too much
She was eager to please
Took the unwanted touch
Until her skin grew blisters
And she cried out with shame
Too boisterous for Misters
She takes on the blame

I put my journal
in the sealed packing box- Now
inspiration’s struck

My poetry’s dark,
Though the release from writing
Can lighten my soul.

My battered image reflected in your Ray Bans- brand new,
But no one will study the lenses.
The photos on your ‘gram tell a story- not true,
And you’ll never let down your defences.

A gentleman presents for spectators- enraptured,
But when the doors close the screaming is shrill.
You’re a prince and I’m your princess- captured,
And that is what gives you the thrill.

Hard black line
Moving into greys
Growing like a vine
Expanding as it strays
Picking up some colour
As it weaves its way
From one place to another
Through nightfall into day

The little light in the corner of my right eye,
The carefree giggle at a senseless joke,
The breezy naivety,
Now there’s another part that’s awoke.

A darkness pooling in my pupils,
A window to a humourless soul,
A heavy burden touches gentle lips,
What it’s left there is a scowl.

It was a slow surrender,
I might have stopped it if I knew,
But I didn’t, so I couldn’t save,
What I have lost to you.

I can see the task in front of me
It’s mapped out clear as day
Pick up the phone and make that call
The job won’t just go away.

It’s easy and it will take no time
Once completed, I’ll feel relieved
But the phone sits untouched, within my reach
The assignment not achieved.

There is no physical barrier
So I can make the choice to overcome
Yes! I will pick up the phone and make that call
Or…I could write a short poem.

Soul’s shaking, I’m breaking
I’m sick of the faking
Everyone’s someone but
I’m still in the making.
Don’t want fame, just a name
But I’m stuck in this game
‘Be noticed’ ‘Be worthy’
But I only feel shame.

Where are the epic novels
About the reliable mum,
Who went to the shops
And had dinner on the table at 6?

Where is all the poetry
About the dependable dad,
Who tucked the kids in
And stayed married and faithful to his wife?

And where are all the ballads
About the happy children,
Who are loved and fed?
Who captures the peace of consistency?

Bell chimes at 3.15, the swarm of kids depart.
There is the thunk of lockers slamming closed
Then it’s out the gates, the world awaits
The text books now disposed.

Then the swarm descends upon the streets
And freedom induced bravado remind
That you not be late, to stop 48
Or you risk being left behind.

As the tram slow and reluctant approaches
Rough hands push their friends into battle
There’s a collective crunch, as on you bunch
A heard of chaotic cattle.

Now stuck within a sweaty mass
As you’re being packed in closer still
With uniforms that are abused and deodorant that’s overused
The tram has reached its fill.

The unsuspecting commuters
Clench their teeth to stay composed
As the crowd all but tries, to fit one more inside
But finally the doors are closed.

There is victory for those on board
And while from the struggle you’re nearly spent
You still find energy from your ride, to beam at those you’ve left outside
As on the way you went.

In the midst of drought
When does the epic love come?
…with the summer rain

Pick a label to wear,
With pride or on secret- it doesn’t matter.
Once you have chosen, you’re stuck with it
If you don’t pick one, one will be assigned
So be quick to avoid disappointment.
Each and every one will become heavy to wear,
Though some have a little more weight than others.
The label will cover up a multitude of sins
And can disguise who you really are- even from yourself.

It is not natural…
Monogamy is man made
But so are cell phones

Tap..scroll..pause
Trolling through your feed
Passively absorbing uselessness
As if a vital need.

Tap..scroll..pause
It’s someone you used to know
You analyse another’s life
From what they choose to show.

Tap..tap..tap
As you seek your validation
Putting your best self on show
The ‘likes’ now your fixation.

Tick..tick..tock
As you wait for a reply
For a ‘friend’ to reach their own short pause
In their tap, scroll, pause then die.

Standing tall and green
Takes pride of place.

Small hands hang precious *****,
Larger hands hang fragile ones,
To appease the critical eye.

Lights twinkle, turned on at twilight
A star adorns the top, a little lopsided
As it is just slightly out of reach to fix.

Boxed and wrapped hopes are piled underneath,
Perfectly presented with a bow
Ready to be torn in the big unveil.

The big day comes and then it goes,
As does each day- significant or not.
The lights do not get turned on now.

The star is more lopsided as the tree droops,
Taking pride of place the yellowing leaves,
Once lush and green, now sully the spirit.

Until, it is discarded on the nature strip.
Just another piece of junk- ready to be replaced.

A poet’s tears run down the internal wall
..until..
they all spill out in a puddle on the floor.

An ugly, unsightly mess
..until..
someone comes along to gently mop it away.

But a leak, however silent, is still a leak
..until..
it is a flood that can no longer be controlled.

A poet’s tears run down the internal wall
..until..
the wall cracks under pressure and we all drown in the words.

She holds her head so high that
she stands tall at 5 foot 2.
Demanding you turn your head
as her perfume clouds you with
an air of importance.

Long nails clutch a compendium,
painted bold so they can’t be missed.
She walks with purpose
and a satisfying click of
court shoe on tile.

She stands out in the crowd
commanding your respect.
The march of a confident woman
full of grace and poise but
with nothing behind the eyes.

The roots are drinking from my veins
A trunk is bursting free
Feeding on my darkest thoughts,
A sordid, twisted tree.

Its thirst, it is insatiable
Taking more than it could need
Forcing me to pour more out,
It grows from what I bleed.

The branches twist and tangle
They block out the little light
The roots grow claws and clutch my soul,
Banishing me to the night.

The wood, now dark and knotted
Though in the past it drew you in
It’s now disfigured by the toxins,
Fuelled by my mind’s poison.

There’s a woman with scraggly hair, very thin, very wobbly on her feet, she always leans a little- life beaten.

On her good days she carries her bright purse, contents toppling as she sways and moves about a lot- we give her a wide berth.

On her bad days she moves less, but yells more at the passers by- the berth we give is wider then.

She always wears a summer dress with thin straps- In winter I think she must be cold. In summer I wonder about sunscreen.

The other day I saw her at the supermarket buying groceries. I had never seen her in there before, such a normal environment. I felt a little proud of her. I thought I probably wasn’t supposed to feel that way so I looked away instead of smiling.-Then I felt awkward for not smiling and left quickly.

Today I saw her again teetering on her feet and yelling and I wondered where it was that she stored those groceries.

I tried not to stare and then felt ashamed for turning away.

So preoccupied, I’ve been with invading another’s privacy.

The great mass of sweat
And the stepping on toes
The twirling of skirts
The too tight men’s shirts
As the alcohol steadily flows.

There’s the slurring of words
And a bad pick-up line
Talking too loud
To stand out in the crowd
The bottomless glass of wine.

The lipstick that’s faded
And stained all the glasses
Has an owner dressed to impress
But now she’s distressed
As the guy made too many passes.

The throbbing of music
And the heels much too high
With tops really tight
And make-up just right
On a girl who starts to cry.

The overtired made up eyes
Admit to their defeat
The sweating mesh
Of tight clothes flesh
Now make out on the street.

The next morning in bed
Headache and smudged eyeliner
Memories of the night before
Of dancing on that gritty floor
The sore feet a reminder.

Then awake the next day a little past noon
Eyes tender from the light
With a pounding head
It is back to bed
They won’t go out tonight.

When your pain’s too painful to be shared,
Put down your pen
Let us be spared.

Come back when the problems have resolved,
You’ll write again
That’s what your told.

Don’t burden us with an ugly thought,
Now hide your pain
That’s what we’re taught .

Does everyone deserve a second chance?

What if you ask for one, use your best manners and say please?

What if you really intend to prove yourself?

…Do you then deserve one…?

What if the pain you caused was irreparable, but your apology was grand?

What if you are truly a good person but you have damaged another’s soul?

What are the rights of the wronged?

Who grants second chances? I wish to see them, I have some questions.

The reflection and I are acquainted
But she stands a little taller
And her frown is now smaller
Her soul just a little less tainted.

The girl staring back at me, she’s older
But less wrinkles around the eyes
There are no shadows from the lies
Through hard lessons she has become bolder.

The mirrored image brings a weary smile
That girl is now a bit stronger
And she is in pain no longer
The battle she has fought has been worthwhile.

Bandaids on a broken heart,
Ugly but a work of art.
Blood pumps under plastic strip,
Not pretty but contains the drip.

Holds together barely, though
Barely still contains the flow.
Bandaids on a broken heart,
Still broken but it’s a start…

Is it your loss that
I can feel in the air or…
Is it your whisper?

I dare say that you’d
Suggest I believe that, which
Would bring me a smile.

Do not be a silent song
Use your voice to speak your truth
Sing it in the shower
Shout it across the rooftops
Let it vibrate across the walls of every soul.

Do not be a silent song
Not when your voice is so beautiful
It may quiver at first
It may rattle and shake
But there is a power in having it heard.

Do not be a silent song
If you cannot sing, be an orchestra
Play it on the cello
Beat it on the drum
Allow the crowd to hear your heart and applaud.

Dark sky, faded light
Deathly cold and starless night.
Flash of lightning, racing heart
This storm could tear her life apart.

First she fights, then hides, then screams,
But the storm could offer bigger dreams
So she stands her ground, facing the rain
She’s brave and strong, despite the pain.

Revelation, ray of light
Silver moon in starless night.

Her hands are stained with past mistakes
Her tears are thick with rage
She is helpless as her weak heart breaks
She’s stuck inside this cage.

She’s felt this many times before
She fears it’s much too late
Too scared to strive for something more
She hides behind her fate.

The room around her closes in
She sits motionless and weeps
Watching the depression win
Only happy when she sleeps.

If she wanted she could leave her hell
But she just won’t turn the page
Too scared to leave what she knows so well
Stuck inside this cage.

She sits in her chair
She sips her hot tea
She looks out the window
She longs to be free.

She could open that door
But her hand quivers so
She’s scared of the life
That she doesn’t well know.

So she sips and she sits
And she looks on the street
And wonders and worries
About the people she’d meet.

One day the door opens
She could go out and see
But she sips and she sits
Yet she longs to be free.

There are rubber bands around my heart
essential to keep things at bay.
As the feelings get bigger,
I need to use more bands.
They cut into flesh,
barely contained.
Pulled so taught…
straining…
Snap.

When at last the sun hits the ground,
I can lie on my bed and rest.
When I sleep, I dream and I believe,
When I sleep life’s at it’s best.

In the dark no one can hurt me,
In the dark I can’t be broken.
I’m safe when my eyes are tightly shut,
I’m vulnerable when I’m woken.

Girl bent over moonlit lake,
Calm broken by a tear.
She has made a big mistake,
She must get out of here.

Her kneeling image in the night,
Is a long forgotten silhouette.
She cannot make what she did right,
She can’t return home yet.

It’s crawling through my veins,
Tearing up my skin.
Taking over every cell
Destroying from within.

Like a leech it drains me,
******* ‘til it’s done.
I pull but it won’t let go,
The creature’s all but won.

I scratch, I scream, I beg,
Much too weak to flee.
No escape, I’m trapped for good,
Battling against me.

Pouring out from the top of my pen,
flooding in a pool on parchment
everything I ever felt.
Every heartache and fear,
laid bare in black ink
for your judgement:
My fragile
paper
Soul.

I’ve told him many secrets
And we rarely are apart,
We share our lives together
But he doesn’t own my heart.

We live life in parallel
But so many things unsaid,
Spectator in my own life
Who’s this stranger in my bed?

If this does end and I’m not in pain,
Was I holding on in vain?
If I can survive and smile,
I dare say it was not worthwhile.

Heart
beating,
burning fire.
Cannot control,
my inner desire.
Getting myself into strife,
thoughts are bleeding into life.
Stay calm and poised through racing heart,
as the truth could tear it all apart.

To the people who
cause the pain, that allow me
to write poetry.

The beauty of the written word,
I can capture on this page.
It tells the story of my pain,
It encapsulates my rage.

I can pen a verse to spite you.
I can weave a tapestry,
That can make one feel my sorrow
And how I was treated unjustly.

As when I write, one will learn
What I wish for them to know.
Cemented forever in this ink,
Is what I choose to show.

So in a way I pity you,
With your spoken word so clear.
So powerful in the moment,
But with the wind will disappear.

While over time my thoughts won’t fade,
Though in the moment I was weak.
The published word says volumes,
More than you could ever speak.

Is it the tree’s fault that lightening struck?
After all it stood up so tall
Its leaves rustled, beckoning
Unwavering in the wind
Daring to look strong
Taunting the rain
Practically
Asked for
It.

Our choices mark our fragile skin
They cannot be erased
For some they fade over time
But no one is unscathed.

Lessons are not always learnt
Some marks are layers deep
For those that disregard the burn
The marks will further seep.

And sometimes when we’re careless
A mark that’s not our own
Can transfer from another’s skin
And tarnish all we’ve known.