I've got an affection, this affliction
It's bringing me down,
But all the while I am bouyed by such an emotion.
It invades my mind, muddles my devotion-
Nearly makes all function impossible

This diseased mind has only one mission: to be with it's affliction- this affection, you see.
The only cure is in vaccination, filled exactly with what infection you bring
As it courses through my system, I can feel the sorrow soothe;
The panging in my heart stops...
Did my heart stop?

Yes,
This condition, no longer contagion
It makes me happy to say,
Is with sensation, fighting cessation...

Still my only ambition is for you, my love, to stay.

My mother's love got taped on reels and spools,
Cassettes she threw on on an old-school deck,
On wheels that spun straight through our lives and went
Unbreaking. What played in us played there on that
Machine, so we were soundtracked to her old-school
Tunes, to folk stuff - sixties hippy **** -
That pulled our radar-hearts around and made
Our souls attend. We'd be bouyed-up on soundwaves,
Beats her hand MC-ed, her finger soft
On PLAY, and sometimes, when the mood was right,
We heard her too. Who knew that half a world
On, on some late night slot, some other tune-in,
I would find her track, and be rewound?
Her sonic reverb tells me, “dance now, dance”.

Kick everything you know..and kick it into touch
It's what you want to do
But the question is..
How much?

Would you lay waste to words..
..leave untasted tested fomulae
Free the inner creative soul
Dig a hole in which to hide..beside me?

Fashion sentences from scimitars
Cut the ties that bind us up in silken sentiment
Use excrement to describe our slide into the bowels of earth..
..or is that outside your comfort zone?

If so..
Then I suggest you stay at home and watch the soaps.
Fill your mind with suds...for whatever good that will do.
Leave change alone
And change will leave you too
Stew behind those lacey nets
For you all bets are void.

But bouyed up by the travesties that weigh down our communities..
..if you can't fight...
..then Mister....You ain't worth a light.
Don't want to call you dim ..but here's the thing
With you around..it's hard to get up off the ground.
Just stay at home
I'll fight the battles on my own..as I have always done..
Not often won.
But I don't give a ****..I use my words like a battering ram.
It's who I am...it's what I do.
Who and what are you?

A collision of two stars
a clash of two realities
the pages of your notebook is filled with gems that fall carelessly from your lips
like metaphors that come and go
bouyed up with photographs put into words
your imagination is your detachment from reality
and this makes you fascinating and intriguing
like drinking coffee under the stars
or staring into the rainbow reflections of a soap bubble
If she’d let me,
I’d step into her world
just to see how she became such a hopeless romantic
If she’d let me,
I’d hold her heart in my hands and feel how heavy it is
Like an iceberg that floats upon her ocean
Weary like poison in my blood
I’ll wade through her waters
and feel salty despair crashing at my feet
I’ll stare into the endless infinity of her liquid brown eyes
and search
for the faintest hint of my own reflection
staring back at me.

I 'm done switching; the road has turn swiftly and now I 've had enough
I 've got a cloud around my heart; that's why I 'm hard to love
And now it's raining on me; so I think we have to talk
I have to object my thought before my heart 'd start to burn
The weight of love bouyed me up till my head knock against the sky
Love split my chest open and left my heart with swollen scars
When our love start to diminish and things start to change
From thickness to connect-dots till the time when you slip away
Now I 'm a victim of hurt; and pain has made his prey
And it promise never to leave until you stop hating me
I know you think I 'm a player coz it looks like I 'm playing you
Until you understand my life and what I am going through
Look deeper in your mind and let your heart certify
Good deeper in your thought and let your eye amplify
Remember our good time of laugh and fun when you 'll tell me your love story and I 'll visualise them in art
When you 'll ask me if I make your sky blue or black

my soul
bouyed
in the
sea of doubt
then
anchored
to
the joyful
shores of heaven
where i
come to rest

My days are filled with a sense of nostalgia
for those that haven't happened yet and
longing for days gone by.

Bouyed by an effervescent iridescence
anchored to the shore of
absurd accusations
vital to self-realizations manifesting
into a festering static buzzing
                                                    to
                                                        no
                                                            end.

It was the place where I'd step from the train
and the sea air bouyed and supported me.
It felt just right. No sense of human drain
and exploitation. There I could just be.

Then I thought about it: About the men
so so beautiful and sparkling who chose
other girls. About the sweet fishermen,
surfers, beekeepers, gardeners, those

cool cafe workers, the greenie coop
community, musos, artists, weavers,
woodworkers and keepers of chicken coops.
Reality checks sometimes find dreamers.

Of all those lovely people I admired
not one reached out to teach me anything.