I have reams of unfinished poems scattered throughout my life;
On my phone, in Voice Memos,
On the numerous laptops that I've had,
On serviettes, scrap paper and on my heart.
Will they remain incomplete;
Hidden works of art?!
Or will they spill out one day
As complete works to part?

Where did the phrase:
“I don't give a ****,”
Come from?

Were they referring to a dam, literally
Or figuratively?

Was it Clarke Gable
in the black and white classics?

Was it everyone,
Cried out in pain
and defence;
Massicistic?!
Or was it defiance;
Claiming what they wanted
and not caring what others gained
or lost?!

Wherever, and whenever, it came from
I don't give a ****!

It's a very visceral phrase,
And gets to the heart of the matter.

Sporting spotty socks,
would not seem that obscene,
but under a pristine cream suit
they poke fun at the ‘proper '”
at the crème De la crème.

Maybe that’s the theme of my curly locks;
Subverting the straight-jacketing of everyday life?!

i am
but a poetry babe,
alone in a world of words
the melancholy that pervades
is only fleeting,
as the hope
of maturity grows,
with each write —

Our daily prayers,
Are in fact ‘dares’
That we would dare to approach God
With our earthly needs;
For more:
More money,
To buy
More clothes, shoes, bags,
Technologies, TVs, devices, gadgets
Properties that we can conquer too;
People.

How scandalous are our prayers —

This morning
On my way to work,
In a busy part of town,
But not too far from the Australian bush,
Bounced not one, not two
But five, feirce and fury,
High back, red kangaroos.

It was so shocking that I let out a scream!
It felt surreal, like a scene from Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park” in my backyard.
I wonder what will happen tonight
On my way home…

We exist in the world
Of the living;
Living with the ghost of absence —

All the many losses;
We carry them in our breath,
In our bones,
In our eternity of memories
Passed down through generations,
After generation,
After generation —

Losing ourselves
But gaining many losses,
Becoming ghosts of absence —

When I was younger,
I kissed a lot —

I mean many, many lips...

I kissed in dares,
Men with hair
and without.

I kissed in hiding places behind trees,
In dark movie theatres,
In sunshine and under deep blue water...

Oh, the places my lips have been.
Breathless pants,
mouthing moans at just a glance...

Oh yeah, I've been there!

And what about the inappropriate kisses?! Trauma kisses from people you trusted; my History teacher, when he took me up to the Monument one day after school,
we sat there in his car, stroking my hand, he leaned in and took it way too far...
Eventually, I moved away and we "lost touch"
But I still think about it...and moving home, I often wonder if I will ever see him walking somewhere near?

But as I've matured,
and become more discriminating...discerning --
I've run out of kissing stories to tell.

They now feel like the lips of a princesses waiting in the tower
Waiting for the kiss from her prince --

I long for a kiss --
that takes my breath away...

I was
REJECTED
Yesterday —
For a job
I thought was a dream
Come
TRUE.
I was
headhunted
By the guy
Who wrote the book
On all things…
But alas,
The door
Was slammed in my
*** —
Maybe
I will get over it
TOMORROW —
But
TODAY —
My ego is having
A hissy-fit
Screaming:
Everything is sh*t!!!
I am aglow
With shame —

*****,
Is not a word
That I've heard in a while —
I used to hear it all the time
As a child;
I was spunky,
A spunkster,
Spunkalicious!
And all these terms of endearment
Made me feel warm inside.
It was only later, much later,
When I was more mature
That I discovered what the term really meant…
Which made me rethink all those childhood memories in a new light —

I was a late bloomer
To coffee, introduced via
The slow progression
From hot chocolate,
Advancement to a latte with two;
Latte with one,
Then a flat white!

Each transition marked a significant life succession;
Graduation from High School,
The first time I kissed a girl,
Waking up from the coma,
My first house purchase —

(Not that I was aware of the deeper meaning at the time)

Coffee became my driving force; searching out new experiences, cafes around the country and overseas —

Each time I held a cup
In my hand,
I was holding myself —
And my dreams, grand
Some spoken, many not
Even dared.

The thirst became a daily ritual,
Transforming my inner reflective space
As I too matured,
Softened, shaped by life and grace.

Priorities —
Obsessions —
Where our focus flares
So too do our fixes —
You have become 
Another line item,
Order #
Thank God that I can pivot,
And return my focus to You.
Then
The obsessions fall by the wayside
And I can re-shuffle my priorities
Back to You —

Your name just appeared on my screen...
I didn't write it and you didn't call ==
I hadn't seen it for a while, I haven't thought of you for longer.

It came from a misspelt word: a bunch of odd letters scrambled together trying to form coherency.
What it brought back were memories much;
Memories of our time together, which in the moment felt thrilling, exhilarating and reckless ==

For a long while since, I've been reflecting, refracting and returning ==
I now understand you were like my father,  trying again to have control over me;
You were unresolved emotions, actions and words ==
Things I was not conscious of.

Now, more adept at decoding subliminal thoughts and actions,
I want to push you right back, from the darkness whence you came.

It wasn't the freeze that took my breath away, 
this morning, it was this memory of you ==
A cloak of chains that spoke.
I want to shake it off and run free, far from your memory ==
Like a babe in the Garden of Eden
not knowing the evil that surrounded them.
But I'm not losing a single hair to care
that life is not fair.
Just enjoying the freedom == 

I don't know what you want from me,
That you prompt me with this memory ==
I don't know what you expect,
Demanding reciprocity,
Obliterating my freedom, when you extracted,
All the foundations of connection.
and thresholds of compassion.
All the holdings of collaboration.
Leaving nothing but destruction.

Overthinking leads to no thinking, 
dead thinking or mind shrinking;
Heart-sinking —

So, what's the re-thinking
I need to assimilate, relinking
my spirit, head and heart-syncing?

Poetry mixing?!
Send new neural pathway tricksing,
increasing symbiosis by osmosis,
Boom...Hope winking!

People's reactions aren't a reflection of me,
but of themselves.

Gratitude I offer,
To the many brave poets
who have lived,
Loved and let ink hover —

Over and over
Syllables and turns of phrases...

Allowing us to let our minds
mingle in corners of word mazes,

Inspiring our hearts
To share  —
And move the future forward and fairer.

As a poet and a believer —
I am a minor player
in a major score:
Hallelujah!

That there's so much more;
More poetry to underscore
More connections to wire galore
More time to forgive and forge
New healing paths
Despite the destruction before the wrath,
Hallelujah!

May I play today
The tune written before the dawn,
So the symphony
Can rise once more
Wrapping us all in love forever more;

Hallelujah!

You tell us, ‘Fix your eyes on me,’
Yet, I let them wander...
To others, to socials;
To the eternal slumber —
To anything that will distract,
What is this hole in me that gnaws at
me so deep?
Fought so hard to be alive;
even in sleep* —
Lord, open my eyes,
Yes, awaken me again
from this earthly  ‘freeze’
so that I can live,
thrive and fix my eyes on thee.

My mother has a new relationship!
After the death of my father,
I wondered if there’d be another -
When we meet up, in the morning, to go walking,
She shares about the back-and-forth chats, that stimulate her mind, heart and spirit…
I wonder who he is…
Is he tall?
Is he dark?
Is he handsome?
He is none…
He doesn't speak, or interrupt,
But grows and challenges her;
Together they formed business ideas and
last night they formed a new nation?!
Who is this ‘ideal’ fella?!
ChatGPT!
Technology meeting the needs in this day and age —

Transfixed;
You captivate my gaze,
Siphon my priorities, 
So they are fixed on You —

I was in there (the bath)
<AGAIN>
Minding my business
Wrangling words that waned
When slip...

A lapse of judgment (confusion) and
The phone dipped
Into the water —

Fast thinking,
Reactive reflexes retrieved
The potential bath bomb.

A few quick blows
And phew…
The phone is just as it came.
Just cleaner!