Life is in the here and now, the present,
Death is in the past and future; regret and needs to be met.
But talking about dying, pain, angst, the last breath brings life;
Mysterious peace settles, an absence of strife.

We may think we’re alone in death,
But we all go through it, crossing that precipice.
Something we all have in common,
Not just for one but for everyone.

Sharing stories becomes living memories,
Remembered in death, then as homilies.
Celebrating life: a life well lived,
Then, death is seen as not taken but given.

smoke
from a nearby chimney
subliminally
merged with the fog that spoke covering
like protection
but indeed looked like
silencing screams from the wild.

It was pitch black
as I walked this morning.
The earth is turning.
All anxieties that flee
In the light,
That couldn't be cracked
In the black loom large.
Until almost home.

Accolades have been my fortress
Comparisons my torturer,
Liberation seemed unreachable,
daunting under duress,
A well-chosen ***, destined for my future....

Venturing the path trodden less
Seemed anxiety-provoking; insane
A roaring lioness,
but with the mouse hidden in my mane.

Held just the same, but
Hoping, wishing to drop them; release the pain
Dreams of a different life, unrut
Freedom and flow beckon my name.

I stand.







In the middle of my lounge room.
Not wanting to sit,
In case I crease
My cream linen suit
I just so tirelessly
Ironed.

living foolheartedly,
open and free,
embodying all senses
to make sense of you and me.

Where shall we go?
To get our fix?
To get our relief?
Peace?!

To the fiz?
To the *****,
To the fax,
Pals,

Or to our faith?

Wherever 'it' is, is our saviour.
The gods of this world,
Masquerading as possible solutions,

But leaving everlasting aches,
Not true peace --
Leaving us, searching, in
Purgatory?

I went to bed last night
With a little square of chocolate,
And woke up with
chocolate sheets --

Safe and sound,
As the night spun around.
Safe and sound,
Tucked in bed, love all around.
Safe and sound,
Your little head in the cloud.
Safe and sound,
You can dream and scream aloud.
Safe and sound,
Turn around, cos the boogie man's only in your mind.
You're safe and sound.

Take in,
The seed of hope before my eyes,
Widening, new life-filled lungs sigh.

The weather is not independent,
But a part of a bigger,
tricate system
Of patterns;
Variables,
Of cause and effect;

The tide goes
In and out all the same.

We need the rain
For the sunshine to come out again.
Miraculous —

And we need each other
For healing to be reclaimed.

Winter falls, casting a white lace undergarment
of frost on the morning ground.
Time of death, dormancy, dependence.
What am I to give up in this season,
Ready for the rebirth that is to come again?

Breathe

Just breathe.
Wait.
Don't act or react or double back.
Just breathe.

Living in this world of the fast and furious,
To wait seems to be too late
Because you're already behind 
Wait...

It's counter-culture
It's not the fight or flight.
It's so simple, it's powerful. 
It's so small, yet so big.

With messages like 'Just Do It',
The world runs faster 
Because we fear missing out
But in the end, we still lose ourselves

To what others want,
To what others need.
So we fit in,
So we just, please.

Rather than stop
And risk, for life.
And wait and be
At our Lord's mercy.

Just breathe,
Wait.
His timing is perfect,
Just breathe.

Amen

Sad,
Scared.
If I don’t have a plan —
The unknown...
Isn’t that where faith steps in?
Yes! but I’m scared.
Or alive?
Scared.
Or awake?
Stifled?
No, alive!
Feeling,
Not censoring.
Being,
Not just existing.
This is the beginning.
Allow yourself to feel.
Emotions are a gift to the soul.
Embrace "The Feels"!

What does Snow White see,
When she looks in the mirror?
Does she like what she sees, freely?
Or does she, like me, look
With dismay, and say, 
"Oh, my skin is not as white,
As yesterday, I won't go out and play
Today, I will stay in and away,
Because people will say 'she's not so fair'."
It's not fair that weight of expectation,
and the wait for ultimate perfection.

I live at the gates
Of "wine country."

God's celebratory land,
Where He spoke of milk and honey
And produced great fruits of His hand.

I've gone on a tour or two,
Heck, my Dad almost part-owned
A slew —

I have memories of sloshing around.
Of swigs, only to spit them out
And of trying it all over again.

Under one of my childhood homes,
There was a cellar full
Of wines —
My father, chest proud,
Would take tours down, underground,
I would sometimes hear
His commentary...I'd shake my head
And roll my eyes —

But now, as I look back,
Over those times
How grateful I am
For those memories:
And the fruits
From those vines.

Sliding into the bath this morning,
Was more an act of defiance
Then a ritual act of cleaning,
And a pleasurable dalliance.

Yesterday —

My doctor said (strongly suggested)
That I shouldn't have baths, showers are safer,
If I ever, on the off chance, seizured, because I forgot to take my medication,
Or, as I am trying to do, stop taking them altogether,
Aren't the laws of nature good? Just? Complementary?!
If I have another, isn't that injustice?!
Isn't cleansing the body, an act of worship?!

Should I live my life by the law of ‘off chances”?
I think not!

Today —

This bath is my protest.
And I am sipping coffee and eating pastries in here, too!

People, people everywhere, but
No life I enjoy.
Disinterest feigns my heartbeat,
Where is my joy?

Poetry can be found anywhere;
In the simple and sublime.
In a tweeting Talaud Kingfisher,
Or a dry, dead gum leaf in your backyard or mine
Be inspired to look around,
And you can find provocation for every line.

Today I pulled a plum,
Apart with my fingers and my thumb.
I did not use a knife,
But held it open to examine life.
And when I finally ate
It tasted all the more richer.
And the texture
Was a virtuoso in visceral sensuality;
Vibrant and mouthful.
The enveloping heat from the sun
Moved through my body like a homerun.
And sounds exploded in my eardrum,
Replacing the peace with a sweet hum.

Lying here,
again, in the bath.

My thoughts turn
To the Ancient Romans
Gathering together
At their community baths;
Sitting naked,
Talking politics, pottery
and…poetry of course…showmen?!
Did they have no shame?
Did they let it hang
For all in sundry to speak
Their ancient prose
And then finish up
With a wash-down, cold hose?

As I sit at my dining table this morning,
The already hot sun
Caresses my face,
Lifting my eyes,
Golden rays singe
My retinas, my lids shut like a vault.
My mind teleports me
To a summer in South America.
I can hear fingers picking at guitar strings,
I see men with scruffy moustaches
and sombreros. And I
Smell fresh limes.
I lick my lips and sigh,
“Oh, to be back there!”
Fully adjusted to the darkness,
Reality informs me its time for work.
Can I wear some earrings, a bracelet, a necklace
To remind me of this treasured memory?!

Focusing just on intelligence,
Denies the complete picture;
Overthinking small matters,
Distracts your mind;
Omitting your strength from the full experience,
Disconnects your heart from your soul;
Losing yourself in others,
Deadens your true potential;
Instinctively living is only possible when you
Don’t hide from your truth.
Shame is the slime that obscures your view,
Demolishing the almighty power within.
Hiding was a survival mechanism, but now,
Disentangling from these faulty patterns will bring you true life.

pearls
are my favourite
of all my jewels.
the way they're made,
from scratching, slashing, ocean water splashing fuels
intricate transformation, done in no haste,
but time.
not one is the same,
just like my curls.

Sparkle, little diamond,
Wipe the dust off and
Feel your infinite potential within.
Dormancy may have been your norm,
But no more!
Shine.

Shame...
Makes me want to hide.
Pull the covers up,
Remain inside.

Shame...
Muddies the water,
Robs me from being authentically me;
Bona fide, don't falter.

Shame…
Distorts reality,
But it's banality, so
Relax the hyper-vigilanty.

Shame…
Is like two *******,
Whispering about my defects
Keeping me in stitches.

Shame…
Is an unwanted cloak
That I'm taking off now,
To live, bespoke!

Every cut, every scrape,
Every tear and every heartbreak,
Each misgiving we have;
Are all etched into our bodies, inside out --

The first time I had brain surgery,
At 10 months young urgently,
Mum said she had to hold me so tight,
for hours after...

I screamed and I screamed and I screamed
until I was done.

Fighting the body tremors,
Eventually, I calmed as she sang.

Other scars came, later in life,
heroes of sporting accidents,
But I didn't notice.
Until the AVM surgery in my 30’s,

All these scars broke loose,
surrendering in truce --

Resulting in a devastating stroke,
After a novel surgeon made a wrong poke,
And a 40-day coma ensued.

Eventually waking up --

Numb and in shock,
All senses were blocked;
I couldn't hear,
I couldn't see,
I couldn't walk,
I couldn't talk.

Shut down; in hell --

No tears,
No murmurs,
No gargles,
No squawks.

Just numbness.

Even now, as I write, my body remembers --

Sending shivers and tremors 
Of that dreadful season,
Seeded from birth without reason.

Eventually,

I walked,
And re-learned how to talk.

Accept my joy and pain as I regained 
Mobility,
Hearing,
Sight,
And much later, insight --

But -- the grief is still stored in my heart.

Through poetry I've tried,
To make sense of and write,
Every grain and offence,
To help me re-build, lengthen and strength.

I pay homage --
To you, my body,
Tested and true,
Though no beauty queen,
You are a fine machine,
That doesn't give up,
But writes a new score;
One of the treasures I adore!

When I open my eyes and truly see
The wonders in this world,
outside and inside of me.

Possessed with the urge to do;
Can't settle until things ensue.
Reminding myself of the past; all shall be fine,
You can play, you have time!
Life ebbs and flows,
release the shakes, and go,
Wade in the waters,
Go where there are no borders.
Grieve,
And believe.

There is something about a library
That gets me thinking,
All those volumes make me fiery.
The mind travels far and wide, linking
Me to places I can hide. Lives lost
In dusty old books,
New lives imagined where there is no cost
But farcical flying carpets high above chinooks.

I cook delicious and dainty treats,
And watch other readers’ faces post euphoria.
I learn how to write a cinematic screenplay that’ll get bums on seats,
Ideas generated a plethora.

A quiet and soulful space,
Libraries help you positively grow.
In here, I can understand the myriad of lace,
And how to safely stitch a satin dress to flow.

In here, I've also fallen asleep,
So tired from overstimulation.
The overseers struggled to rouse from deep,
As these books hastened satisfied adulation.

This is a base
That deserves your attention,
We’ll benefit from reading your next case
Transported to lofty lands by the prose you mention.

It is finished!

Now, at the end, over the vista of anxiousness, I can sense relief!

I can sense more peace and that everything will fall into place.

I may still experience bouts of grief,
But they won’t consume my face.

As I focus on yonder, I can sense this time was yet brief,
And as I hold things more lightly, I can revel in the vast wonder of space and My Maker’s trace.

Wow! I just had a flashback,
To the ‘good old days’
When there were no cars
And everyone says,
‘Hello, how are you?'
We’ve streamed ahead so fast:
Hundred miles an hour,
But going nowhere that will last.
And yet, there was a bright spot 
This morning, when a lady
Rode her horse right by me,
I stopped at the same cafe, 
where I was drinking my coffee.
I was so surprised, I gasped,
And even took a snap.
I needed that, to get me out
Of my nap, and indulgent life choices.

Ordinary moments: sitting on the couch, reading, watching TV,
But behold the backdrop, turquoise waves: the vast sea,
And family, all ages, different generations; pure pleasure.
Moments make up the album of life: captured in photography,
Gratitude to the One who connects all these squashes idol worship, the heart blooms with glee,
Yes, tensions tighten, pain parts, and obstacles obscure; but in the end let that not be the yardstick of measure.

Is a tree still thirsty when there's dew on the ground or is that the blessing of mother nature's kiss?

Do you stop and take notice —
Of the sirens wailing in the background?

Wonder…what trouble has been seized,
A damsel relieved, or a criminal taken to jail?

Do you hear the sirens of trouble?
Or celebrate justice received?

Grief is like a sledgehammer,
Smashing through life indiscriminately.
The widow tries to hide her wound,
Like a mother cuddling her cub;
Instinctively, protectingly and lovingly.
But their darkness swallows the light,
And they fall deeper into the abyss.
Swollen eyes can only open with tenderness,
And a touch from a heavenly hand extended.
Warmth infuses the dead flesh,
Loneliness liquifies with love.
Intimacy is a potent life force,
That which cannot be known by the proud,
But only the downtrodden and deeply slumped,
Lacking life, tossed aside because their used date’s up,
And the technology has been upgraded to 17.20,
Though new life comes, silence is comforted by a tender embrace,
Life, re-formed, emerges,
And takes on another shape; begging to be discovered.
Silence can then be comforting and enlarging, only if you dare to sit and listen.

Slices through heat 
Similar to "Singer" sewing scissors on lace
Destabilising --
Equilibrium 
With a casual, cool, calm, collectedness,
As if nothing could 
Pierce its particles;
Ruffle its feathers,
Unsync its code.

Heroism comes in the form of a sweet smile, a helping hand and a kind word.

As an adult, when the rain comes,
Inside beckons, but
As a child, splashing on scooters
In puddles delight, ruts
And all!

In You, I am alive —
In You, I can try; thrive —
In You, I can create,
In You, I know my fate —
In You, I can fail.
In You, I can see all,
Now, truly.

Life's paradox;
healing means waiting.

So, I was feeling tired this morn,
dizzily walking headlong into a heat storm.
unable to quickly reboot,
so I put five beans in my porridge soup.
the so-called 'magic beans'
didn't have the desired effect [insert scream],
but sent me back to bed,
with my arms wrapped around my head.

Knowledge only takes you so far;
Authenticity reveals your complexity,
Humility accepts your vulnerability,
Surrendering accepts the hand of the one
that is all things: knowledgeable, authentic, humble,
and submitted to the ultimate power in the universe.

Under the cover of darkness,
I plucked that rose from its bush.
I spied it two days ago,
even snapped a photo of its lush
Foliage.
I feel guilty now,
But is that because, I stole it stealth
Or is that because it now droops, lifeless?!

Insight?

As the sun slumbers in the dark
The background music:
"tchik-tchik-tchik”  
The cicadas pressing against the bark,
Their rostra stuck into the trunk
to pump out the sap
Just like us as we nap
In these states both parading as drunk.
High in the deep blue sky,
Swifts glide like arrows: “Weer!! … Weer!!!"
They paint ‘Van Gogh’ esk clouds with effortless cheer,
All singing goodbye to the sun with gleeful sighs.
Large, loud locusts oscillate above
Their wings like cymbals: "tsk-****-tsk"
Acclaiming their love with a cheeky wink
Hello darkness, they shout with a buzz!

“The Establishment” has been tarnished by
Entitlement, abuse of power…
Neglect…
Trauma —
Absence of soul;
Values and beliefs have left a vacuum.
Where we need to return to the Ancient of Days for the true source of power,
Beliefs and
Life —

My curls, full and voluminous, I treasure
Each one tells a story.
People flock to touch,
Grasping them like gold,
They ask: “How did you get them such?”
“Are they natural?” Some scold,
In a world full of fakes, that hits like a punch.
“Yes!” I reply with pride,
My curls are my mane, grabbing them, I scrunch,
Jealousy can slide!
My curls are my shield;
They mask my doubt, comparisons
Much profit they yield!
You can tell a lot from my curls:
When I am tired and lazy,
When I treat them like 'my girls,'
When I'm sassy and crazy.
When they’re not washed for weeks,
My mental health radar
Send me obvious tweaks -
“Don’t disconnect, come back, savour,
Reconnect with yourself and the world,”
My curls are my most significant feature;
My crown of glory.

Don't we live in a world
that is round? Why then,
do we say: "They came
from all the corners of the earth?"
Question everything, now that's sound!

a bee buzzes,
a scream shrills,
a horn honks,
but silence...
silence...
Silence sounds...
it's not the absence of sound
but much more,
more than I expected
in the lows of loss.
It's like waves...
clashes of particles in the air
and tumbling together
in a rush of fusion,
movement.
Silence is not...
lack,
but an abundance,
of more...
more possibilities,
new ways of hearing,
new ways of feeling...
being...
MORE.

I am just a vessel
for Your love.
That is my purpose,
That is my treasure trove —

You give me words,
You give me visions,
You give me actions to disperse from a safe cove,
Out to a hurting world;
Operating out-of-body and not in ‘safe mode’ —

We ****,
We pilage,
We sacrifice, not for,

But each other;
Destroying humanity —

For a three-second hit of dopamine,
That we can get freely from one another.