Heat beats down upon the street
Birds too hot to fly,
Blistered sand you cannot stand
Drenched with sweat am I.
Cows collect in shadow deep
Panting sheep hang head,
Goshawk flies in cobalt skies
Hills of grass stand dead.

Whisp of smoke, a puff of breeze
Sirens scream in air,
Running men in squads of ten
Emerge from everywhere.
Now the rising wind takes charge
Runs with leaping flame
Into crown of eucalypts
To rage across the plain.

Too late the tenders hoses pour,
Too late the fireman’s shout
Inferno hot has run amok
And all control a rout.
Generating mighty winds
The fire charges forth
Spiralling in furnace air
To incinerate for sport.

Vanquished men exhausted stand
Watch with useless eyes,
As raging flames consume their truck,
Inside a good mate dies.
A live thing in the burnished night
It writhes and spirals high
Across the flaring treetops
Hot, red smoke fills the sky.

As sudden as it starts, it stops
A wind change in the air.
Ravaged forest stark and black
Hot ashes everywhere.
Hills of cinders smoking now
Stock in death’s repair,
Homesteads rendered charcoal like
Farmers in despair.

A silence in the ravaged hills
Birdless in the sky,
Bushfire horror, death and smoke
Enough to make you cry.

Marshalg
In support of my Australian brethren and their torched nation.
30 January 2013

My feet sweat, my shoulders burn
But I am indifferent.
Nature plays around me.

Close your eyes. The last thing you see
is a white butterfly dance past the tree-line
into oblivion blue.

Bush leaves crackle above you in branches
and below you, let loose through brittle grass.

A light wind conducts a symphony in which
Each shrub plays a part.
Each dry branch, kindling ready to explode,
Itching to snap its dangerously perfect note.

Thorns whistle sharply - reeds hiss and hum.
Every breeze is a clown, taking up instruments
And jostling melodies to play all at once.
The grass rushes to its queue, dry as a bone.
Leaves follow behind in vague harmonies.

I wait on the edge of an eventful storm.
The sky is blue.
A storm of events - something big,
Behind the horizon, behind the mirage.
A rhino.
A microlite .
Electric fences, purring.

A wan nation celebrates, then groans behind the hills.
Natures orchestra sings to no one in particular

Ginger bap,redfox, bushfire, carrot top, jinger minjer,oh! My personal favourite, daywalker!

      (c) eileen mcgreevy@ymail.com 2010

We plant roots so that a tree may grow,
A symbol of time and devotion

And if a bushfire comes,
Will our efforts be for naught?

I do not like the feeling of
examination,
of eyes burning on my back
as if you are a small match
and I am the bushfire
you wish to light...
I do not like the feeling of
obssessive observation,
I do not like privacy violation,
I do not like the feeling of claustrophobia,
I do not like claustrophobia because
it doesn't cease to exist by simply
removing ten people from one room.
I do not like claustrophobia because
sometimes your own mind is enough
to provoke a certain type
of wanderlust,
the kind where you run away
and leave everyone to rot and rust.
I do not like claustrophobia
because when I am alone,
it can never be enough alone,
it feels like the walls of my room
are breathing on my neck;
they're laughing at me,
declaring this poet insane,
it is the most crowded type of alone
until somebody, something
sedates my brain
and you call me "suggestive anxiety"
it's all in your head,
you're a game of chance
and I'm taking a guess;
you know my face but
you know nothing about my name.

Have you ever seen the way
A bushfire sets beautifully ablaze
The deepest, darkest forest trees
A melting-orange intensity
It brings about an ash of gold
Like the smothering dust of charcoal
The wildest destruction ever to see
In the eyes of a son who came from me

Look behind, a shadow follows, morning till night,
at sun down, it transforms and waits, no curtains needed,
look around at night, see that mysterious bushfire,
some happened beyond time, heaven is your imagination speaking,

I stand on a flow that never stops and put all my hopes in love,
there is nothing that doesn't change, I stand where
many others before me stood, I forget that, but events repeat,
I stand naked on a rock with prehistoric markings,

my shrink will associate it with my desire to go back,
my loved ones whisper in to my ear, "Hallucinations all,
will be alright after a deep sleep, you're tired, mind a dark forest"
why overburden oneself with memories beyond time?
Reasons are fading darkness, when looking beyond the mind,
all you now pass through is a dream, seen in sleep, one sleep to the next,
*How many galaxies are to be hopped in this intergalactic travel?

She used to be your sun by day
And your moon at night
You never ran out of light
Your happy meal at the end of a long day
She never left your side
Not even for a single day
And when the night is deep
And you're short of sight
She became your extra eye
That kept you safe like a knight

She loved you with everything
She gave you everything
And gave up everything
Including her pride and sense of being
She gave you her heart
And offered her soul
But nothing she could ever give
Was ever enough to satisfy
Your perpetually gnawing greed and empty soul

You've lost that girl
Now you have to live
With this monster you created in her
You broke her fragile heart into a million pieces
And now you must make peace
And collect those broken pieces
And forget all about the beautiful morning kisses

Now she's nothing more
Than a collection of warning signs
And all the signals
You get in a danger zone
She's all the wrong turns you've ever made
And all the U-turns you never made

You ignited a spark within her
But that wasn't enough
You added gasoline to it in open air
A bonfire without stories
That's how lonely you left her
A bonfire that turned to a bushfire
She engulfs everything in her wake in flames
And you can't even take the blame
She's gone out of control
And you can't even call a fire brigade
She's the loss to every bet you've ever made
All the coins you've ever tossed
And she's all the lines you've ever crossed
And she's going to burn you
With the fire you started within her
Such is the beauty of a Goddess

You refused to see beyond her flaws
Now you're forced to see the beauty
She created out of them
And smell the fragrance
That oozes out of her pores
With somber elegance
And a tactful nonchalance
And embrace the fact
That you're not even worth a second chance

Perhaps you'll learn to find pleasure
In the mischief that lurks
In the dark sky of her beautiful eyes
And decipher the mystery in her smirk
But until then keep on scratching the surface because her heart is cold as ice.

When you sauntered through the pub
I knew my life had changed;
No longer concerned to save the world,
I needed to pull resources to save my heart.

The light through your auburn hair
The exact colour of magnificent conflagrations;
Those intense wildfires evermore common
Due to shifting climate patterns.
And, like a bushfire threatening lives and homes,
No man was untouched -
All were scorched by your radiant beauty.

Your pearly whites'
Whiter than the bleached bones
Of countless drought-stricken livestock;
Whiter, still, than bleached reefs,
Luminous in their death-throes.

And those intense green eyes -
More glowing than a radio-active
Atoll seen from space.

And your voice, when you asked to sit,
Had the harmonic cascade of a thousand extinct species,
Each singing their death song in salute to corporate success:
It made my knees tremble and my wallet itch!

Your ******* as well proportioned
As those majestic ****-heaps of open-cut mines.

The little paunch you wear so proud,
Is more cute and inviting of attention
Than all the distended stomachs of starving African children.

As I explored further into nether regions,
I was delighted to discover
You'd taken the Brazilian to heart -
Clear-felling all but a remnant;
A tuft in tribute to a once great forest -
A forest of mystery and exotic, ****** adventure,
Now open for tourism!

Your scent more intoxicating
Than a million factory flues
Spewing out toxic pollutants
To fix our corporate wants.

When you invaded my heart
It was as devastating as the "shock and awe" tactics
Of a military Superpower unleashing its might
On a hapless oil-rich and strategically significant,
But unco-operative, dissident regime.

Your plump, glossy, cherry-red lips
More succulent than a genetically-modified tomato
Grown on a corporate farm, maximising profits.

And even though you're more vacuous
Than a bovine skull after the hydraulic rod
Has rendered the animal fit for hamburgers and processed foods,
You've still captured my heart
Like a sentimental story broadcast
On a slow news day with advertiser's approval.

Gaia can look after Herself,
I'll not defend Her - I'm on the shelf;
Captured by a product of modern media,
I'm in Love with a global Arcadia!

three days later
you can still smell
the acrid smoke
on the wind
see the blackened
leaves a twiglets on
the green summer lawn

three days later
and  the town still
murmurs about
how close the
fire front came

close enough for
the northshore houses
to see the voracious  flame
to hear the crackle of it's burn

luck would have it,
that it turned,
luck and firefifighters
tested and tired, turned
the flame by art of backburn
back in on itself and then down to
the sea, down past the dunes
and then to die, to end in ash

five days of bushfire, haze and smoke
now just ash and grey black sculptures
on black ground canvas...

awaiting renewal......awaiting, awaiting

of course i left the ****-holes traumatised,
if i didn't read extensively i'd be
stuck in some slum for immigrants -
i mean, who, in, their, right, frame, of, mind
would teach children the basis
of abortion, among lessons about sniffing
glue (a practice in the Ukraine)
as if the 1960s psychedelic revolution never
took place? only the catholic church,
which loves the ****** of a John Smith...
i might as well be listening to Billy Joel
rolling a ******. Jesus... *******...
take your little school while i learn
from the stoic Marcus Aurelius... seriously
Ben Hur und Aesop to you too! go on grovel
on your message: gehen nord...
yeah, because the romans were evil to incorporate
Judea into its pond empire...
the north men clashed with the jews in the Holocaust;
head north jesus said... so they headed in fakes...
polnisch hebräisch: Jiddisch Yiddish Jesus Jehovah
the tetragrammaton, *******...
like they built the ******* pyramids...
sheep, sheep, sheep; i do better drumming
for the rhythm guitars than anyone,
esp. Billy on the MTV single hit about Australian
bushfire and a long list of names with rock around
the clock of Bill Haley & His Comets and oh ****** days
on the McDonald boulevard.

When she spoke of birds and bees,
She wasn't speaking about ***,
Enumerating about leaf and trees,
Twinkle over a topic quite perplex.

When she spoke of rain checks,
She wasn't speaking about shopping,
Instead fretting over the birds in the nests,
Trees that perish by wood chopping.

When she spoke of a branch,
She wasn't speaking of business,
She spoke of destructive avalanche,
That pressure trees to diminish.

When she spoke of wood,
She wasn't speaking of phallus,
Or a portrayal of manhood,
She expounded on nature's palace.

When she spoke of nature,
Her passion burned hotter than a bushfire,
For she witnessed creatures endangered,
And the animals that suffered in our crossfire....

....Our crossfire between money and satisfaction...

Beware the flooded roads,
Don't drive in that overflow,
You won't drive into a bushfire,
why drive into that watery mire,
Beware, there's danger there,
Some don't listen, it appears,
Washed away in the floods,
Beware, beware, that's far enough,
Beware, beware, my man,
Don't drown yourself in a tin can!

2k19 month of September
Alarmed an international terror
Climate change, change in weather
Drought across the nation
Turned into fire Strom centre
5 months from now
We can still witness the ember
Smoke, ashes from bushfire
Travelled thousands of acres

This inferno had us surrender
We lost a million of species endangered
And pushed many near extinction
Humans were no exception
32 were lost in this render
People lost their land of ancestors
Houses which were a place of
Laughter, revitalization and relaxation
Now are nothing but melted shelters

Firefighters to social writers
All jumped to help out the situation
From taking control over fire
To spread awareness
Seeking for helpers
Nature finally blessed us
It rained and things got under control
Before fire would swallow everything
And melt us...

I was a bushfire, lit by the sun;
Ravaging through the foliage
Igniting the masses with a spark
Carried along by the wind

I was the ocean currents;
Creating rips pulling you out
Taking you with me
An irresistible force

I was the cliffs, along the seaside;
Framing the beauty below
Protector of the sacred waters
Daring you to jump in

I was the trees that hold through storms
Giving you shelter; offering safety
Completely one of mine own
Each branch reaching for the sky

I was the violent wind
Pushing you forward, backward
Pushing you to push against me
Or be taken by my ferocity

I was your everything and it hurts
To think you've given up on me
No sun, current, cliff, tree or breeze
Will ever bring you back to me

I was a bushfire, lit by the sun;
Ravaging through the foliage
Igniting the masses with a spark
Carried along by the wind

I was the ocean currents
Creating rips pulling you out
Taking you with me
An irresistible force

I was the cliffs, along the seaside;
Framing the beauty below
Protector of the sacred waters
Daring you to jump in

I was the trees that hold through storms
Giving you shelter; offering safety
Completely one of mine own
Each branch reaching for the sky

I was the violent wind
Pushing you forward, backward
Pushing you to push against me
Or be taken by my ferocity

I was your everything and it hurts
To think you've given up on me
No sun, current, cliff, tree or breeze
Will ever set you free

We fought wars,
Rough, ferocious and deadly deadly,
Genocides and Holocausts,
We killed, got killed and lived to tell the tale,
We still touched our mouths, noses and faces,
We sneezed, coughed and had high fevers,
We shook hands, hugged and kissed,
Yet we survived and lived to tell the tale at the tail-end.


Wars were fought throughout the world,
World wars and wars for supremacy,
Nuclear wars and cold wars,
Religious wars and wars against colonialism,
Tribal wars and civil wars,
Trade wars and industrial wars
Insurgencies and conventional wars,
Wars against Ebola and wars against the SARS virus,
Wars against slavery and apartheid; and wars against oppression,
Wars about us against them and them against those that are against them,
Some, really senseless wars.


We emotionless watched them fight their wars with arms folded,
As they emotionless watched us fight our wars with arms folded,
It is not our war, they felt,
It is not on our soil, we reckoned,
They are not our people, we believed,
Our economy will not be affected, they said,
After-all, we share no common Ancestry,
With pride, we developed a defensive “Them” and “Us” attitude,
Every nation for herself and only God for us all,
We never wanted to be part of others’ wars,
Neither did they want to be part of ours,
Depositing the spirit of Worldianship into acute non-existance.


Today, a horrendous and cataclysmic war has been declared against the world – them and us,
Ruthlessly savaging, ravaging and bulldozing the lugubrious world full of them and us, like a demented storm really gone mad,
A devastating and ruinous world war 3 with some shift of gear,
An atrocious insurgency against a common but deadly and hostile enermy,
A silent, ruthless and predatory bandit which intentions are catastrophically loud, heavily thudding and explosively explosive,
The wide world has been dolorously and traumatically held to ransom,
And ransom of the worst order and disorder,
Plunging the outrageous and despicable West and the rest of the cultured world on one side,
Fighting side by side in a war they never wanted to fight,
Not even side by side,
Desperately befriending my unspeakable enermy because he is the enermy of my enermy,
And the enermy of the enermy of the enermy who is my enermy,
Just imagine the symbiosis,
Just imagine.


Desperate and distressed children of the world have been unintentionally isolated and agonisingly violated,
Tightly curfew-ed and strictly quarantined against their will,
Some, with neither food nor means of survival,
All, converted into Inmates in their own homes and excuses for homes,
As the catastrophic war notoriously spreads like a ravaging bushfire on defenceless nations,
Taking with it innocent children of the subconscious and powerless world,
With some, falling dual victims of the calamitous virus and also the armies,
Little-minded combat and action-hungry armies that are supposed to be protecting them,
Siding with their own enermy and the enermy of their own people,
Shame on the children of the sorrowful soil,
Children of Kunta Kinte, Zwangendaba, Mzilikazi kaMashobana, and Chaminuka,
Children of Moshoeshoe, Kgabo, Kaguvi and Kazembe,
Children of Skwati, Sikhukhuni, Shaka and Shiriyadenga,
Children of Soshangana, Christopher Columbus, Jan Van Riebeck and Vasco Da Gama,
Shame.


A little child distantly cries elsewhere in Africa’s distant peripheries of domineering poverty,
She sickly cries her last cries for food and last cries ever,
A little bundle of a network of visible veins lying on a reed mat like a ragged rag doll,
A tiny, vulnerable innocent crossfire victim of the massive deadly disorderly war,
Last in a family of twelve, that never had food since the first day of the lockdown,
As father and mother sadly gaze at each other, tears are shed and shared in capitulation,
They cannot leave their landlocked tiny shack to go out to look for food,
Their poor offspring lackadaisically closes her tiny eyes for the last time,
Departing from the weird world in a war that was never hers to fight,
Not even her “church mice” parents,
She dies in painful hunger and of a painful hunger that was the grandchild of Corona’s making,
A child of the African dusty soil prematurely returning to the African dusty soil,
A crossfire victim of corvid19 of the Chinese ancestry,
An indiscriminate weponous weapon of mass destruction,
Shame.


Amidst all this, songs get sung phonetically in different languages and tunes,
By different nationalities of different nations and nationalisms,
Touching and emotional songs, embodying and incarnating just but one and the same theme,
Coronavirus, corvid 19, the heartless witch which is son to a heartless witch,
Where do we run or even crawl to for safety?
Where really, at this humanity’s tattered and shattered darkest hour,
Our hour no longer our hour,
We have fought worse wars with worst enermies than you,
More titanic, more ravaging, more calamitous, more faceless,
Albeit, we lived to tell the tale,
The fearless warrior children of the fearless warriors that we fearlessly are,
We do not fight to fight another day,
And we cannot just fold our cold arms as you recklessly scotch our lovely earth to oblivion,
Rapacious Corona, it is just a matter of time,
Just a matter of time,
Corvid 19 – obnoxious bandit father of an obnoxious bandit wizard,
Heartless dissident son of a heartless dissident witch,
The epitome of prolific disrespect, involuntary solitude and proliferated solicitude,
The personification of convulsive misery, spasmodic destruction, and multitudinous deaths,
What goes around, comes around,
Just a matter of time.

Love for me was never kind
Like a bushfire; wild, rapid, burning, nothing
Withered and destroyed leaving the bare, fragile parts of me
You were a wanderer,
An adventurer
Maybe drawn to the life and beauty I once bestowed
You didn't seem to see the broken pieces and burnt remains of a once beaming forest
But the forest itself, evergreen as before
You held the leaves so gently, caressed the burnt soil ground
You were so tender and so gentle
A love I've never felt before
It wasn't hot to the touch, it didn't scold my hands
It was warm and safe and unconditional
Foreign but welcoming grounds
The forest weeped and flooded the land
For it had never felt so touched
It began to grow back all the leaves that it had once lost
The sun rose across the horizon and as far as the eye could see
The forest grew and flourished, a beautiful scenery
The forest wasn't scared anymore
Of a bushfire or a flood
She had a wanderer who now showed her
How love is supposed to be

My mom sits alongside the bed, a calm, quiet scene,

be that as it may, at that point, yet again, a feeling of fear crushes what may have been.

I see the no man's land in her eyes… a desolate, forlorn place

where gestures and grins can't mask the pity in her face.

She strolls where nobody else can go, very not too sharp and visually impaired

to anything she used to know, for haziness mists her brain.

Rather she sees a ghost world, where truth and dreams join,

like smooth strings of spider webs twisted around a shriveled vine.

Also, I can't enable the route to feel, the musings I can't deny,

the hurt that essentially won't recuperate, the outrage that won't kick the bucket.

Regardless I detest what she's progress toward becoming, what she has done to me,

and afterward my blame just abandons me numb, for I can't set her free.

Where used to be love, there's just dread at what she now may state;

I prefer not to figure what I may hear, the value I'll need to pay.

She hurls a moan and grasps my hand, at that point tears my life separated.

I know she doesn't see, however yet she makes me extremely upset.

"If you don't mind let me know, dear, how is my kid? I've not seen him for quite a long time.

He used to bring me so much delight, however now there's just tears.

I adored him along these lines, my exclusive child, and thought he felt the same;

I can't think what I have done to give him cause for fault.

I see him out there on the track… he goes to meet his Father,

and after that they both return striding… he's such a great looking chap.

The child and father, next to each other, both look so fine,

what's more, I stand viewing, loaded proudly to realize that they are mine.

Be that as it may, now they're gone, I don't know where, and I am expelled here,

with one little room, a bed, a seat… they've given me a chance to vanish.

I can hardly imagine how they'd do this, fair basically leave

without a word, a grin, a kiss, to help me as the day progressed."

I need to yell "That isn't valid!" yet mute any revile,

for belligerence does not traverse, and just aggravates it.

Dementia stalks its defenseless prey, and hits with unobtrusive power;

steadily, that moderate rot seeks after its lethal course.

Her memory would wax and wind down, and regularly she denounced

my Father and I of some crusade to keep her everything befuddled.

At that point came the day she got very lost while going by a companion,

furthermore, that was the point at which we learnt the cost, and knew where this would end.

This injury took away her life… where once she'd generally driven

as little girl, mother, cherishing spouse, an outsider strolled.

She must be in full-time mind, a decision that we lament,

in any case, back at home, to our despondency, her needs couldn't be met.

My dad won't visit now… he can't stand the torment,

what's more, discloses to himself that still, some way or another, she'll act naturally once more.

So I am left to confront her distress, to see her gradually age,

tolerating that there's no help from persistent wrath.

However as I watch her staying there, an apparition of days now gone,

I find I'm much more mindful of how her light once shone,

as she battled bushfire, dry spell and surge, and never stopped to endeavor

to spare our territory, our fragile living creature and blood, and keep our fantasy alive.

For she was energetic, solid and intense, a pioneer to all,

a lady who couldn't develop old, who addressed any call.

She never let a neighbor down or turned back one in require,

what's more, she was respected in our town for thought and word and deed.

Be that as it may, now she's caught, she can't get away from this no man's land of the brain,

a damnation that has no frame or shape, that can't be characterized.

And after that it comes, the frightful idea, however narrow minded it might be,

that nobody's sheltered from getting gotten… it may one day be me.

The after life part 2




After sending his previous days souls to their next life, Cronus has to deal with 80s serial killer bob willow who killed 8 people between 1983 and 1987 and 3 of them were children, you see in 1996 he was caught and sentenced to life imprisonment and he was diagnosed with cancer in 2016 in which he lost his battle in January 2020 and went up to see Cronus to talk about his next life and where he’ll go but Cronus decided to give him a few problems in each birth like still born etc and bob willow said you are putting the newborn babies at risk by punishing me and Cronus said no you did that, you see if you punish other people you are punishing future generations and bob said no, I won’t put up with this I will find a terrorist and we can cause havoc on earth like punishing them for what they did to me and before Cronus could say anything and Cronus became very worried about the future and suddenly a nasty bushfire hit the eastern coast of Australia which forced a lot of people to suddenly become homeless and Cronus made the communities bond together to help each other so bob willow’s powers stop and Cronus thought this was bad, so he decided to make bob willow’s new earth body John Robertson who will develop Down syndrome where he will find it hard to communicate with others, but bob decided to fight Cronus by making fires really bad and Athena sat bob down to give his soul a once over and said yes a Down syndrome person for you and bob went away to cause more havoc and then George baccarack came up after being killed by an armed robber in a bank and Cronus sat him down saying you are dead and we need to give you a new earth body and George said I don’t really want to come back I got killed, I am scared, I don’t want to come back
And Cronus said there is always a life that could keep you safe from all that and George said yes, but I thought my last life was safe, I thought I couldn’t be killed but now as you can see, I am here and Cronus said yeah well life is not a problem it is a gift, good things happen, bad things happen and you must grow up and keep your new family safe from the bad people around and Athena gave George’s soul a once over to find out where does he need or want to go to his next life and George said can I have one of your famous methane smoothies I was going to have one before George but I rushed in doing that life, I don’t want to be as rushed in this life, I am just a tad scared of the earth after his ordeal and Athena gave him the address of a place where you could get a great methane smoothie while he will re enter the womb of another mother and while he was living the high life young teenage activist Yvonne Bennie was killed by a mad gunman at the age of 13 Cronus sat her down to find out where she wants to go in her next life and Yvonne said I tried to make a fucken difference and I was killed and I am not sure if I want to come back, because nothing will ever be the same again and Cronus said yes but, death happens I can’t explain it I don’t understand it but what I do understand is that people are given earth bodies for a reason which is the earth needs to be protected and Yvonne Bennie couldn’t save it but your next life could have more power or control and Yvonne said yes thank you and Cronus sent Yvonne to Athena for the routine soul check to find out what womb is right for her and after that Yvonne explored nirvana having a few methane smoothies and listening to a bit of great music and Cronus said, yes another busy day there will be more lives to build

Heard today of the demise
of a couple elderly 78 and 73
caught in the malestorm
of a bushfire, unable to leave
the property they had  lived on
for more than 50 years...
they took shelter in the house
he built...only to have it become
their pyre ..they were found together
There is  poetry in this, love passion,tragedy, darkness and despair
and though these word do not come anywhere near describing the situation, it is my belief that these two people deserved some words written for them...
May they rest in peace...

Burn, burn like the rage of a dying flame.


Scream, scream with the cry of a bushfire.


Flicker, flicker away as the wind puts you out for one last inevitable time.


The bridges are now torched.


There is no you, there is only me.

in the midst of a dream
on thanksgiving morning
i was snoring away in a peaceful slumber when
firm hands wrapped around my stomach,
a couple of long fingers rested familiarly upon my breast

your hot breath was lighting up the back of my neck like a bushfire
your whiskers tickling the top of my spine
now i was awake.

you were breathing so heavily -
“go back to sleep” i mumbled, making myself smaller in your embrace
you got even closer against me
unbearably closer
whispering like you knew something i didn’t
“i just wanted to get your attention”

nothing was thought of that
i wanted to go back to sleep, after all
and you are known for playing games
but i don’t think i would be lying if i said that
my heart started beating like a mad drum
the hairs on the back of my neck stood up
and my whole body became the most awake it’s ever been
when you said
“i...love you”

i won’t forget that moment -
and i still have the biggest smile on my face that
is beginning to hurt.
“i love you too” i said so, so, so quietly
because i was afraid i was still sleeping in a dream
and none of it was real.
but we did go back to sleep -
and when we woke up again later
i knew deep in my heart that we had spoken those words to each other
in the world of the living.
and i am thankful for that.

I don't know what to do in times of crises,
I couldn't hold a hose for the raging bushfire,
I am not in a lab seeking for a cure,
But I know that I can give where I can,
A kind word,
Or a lending hand,
I can give a few dollars to those that need cents,
I can try to do what I can,
So that's what I will try to do then I'll give in anyway that I can.

he held her hand
and wouldn’t let go;
lidless eyes open wild
like a raging Victorian  bushfire

not knowing what to do,
she apologized
for the human race

then quenched
his thirst
with a long plastic bottle
of Voss  

~ P

The one who will love you shall come like the wind,
With a gentle breeze or a tempest within.
Their love will caress you with a tender touch,
And bring comfort, like a warm, gentle clutch.

Like a meandering stream that flows so serene,
Their love will be constant, a calming routine.
Through twists and turns, in every season,
Their devotion will remain, beyond any reason.

Their love, like autumn's vibrant display,
Will bring colors to your life, in every way.
With passion and warmth, their affection will bloom,
As leaves gently fall, they'll banish all gloom.

The one who will love you shall come like a flood,
A torrential force, rushing in, fierce and unshut.
Their love, like a bushfire, will spread with might,
Engulfing your heart in a warm, glowing light.

As a mighty avalanche reshapes the land,
They'll reshape your world, with a touch so grand.
Their love, like a soaring hurricane's gale,
Will leave no doubt, as emotions prevail.

Just as lightning strikes, unexpected and bright,
They'll electrify your soul, with love's pure light.
Like a tempest at sea, they'll stir your emotion,
A love that rocks your heart, with relentless devotion.

Like a shooting star, streaking through the sky,
Their love will amaze you, as it passes by.
In the depths of the ocean, so vast and profound,
They'll explore your heart, where true love is found.

Just like the moon's pull on the relentless tide,
Their love will draw you close, with nothing to hide.
In the quiet of night, like a twinkling star,
Their love will guide you, no matter how far.

Their love, like the sun, shining bright and warm,
Will bring light to your life, through any storm.
And just like a diamond, so precious and rare,
Their love will be cherished beyond compare.

They'll erupt into your life with fiery passion,
Leaving no doubt, it's a love that's meant to happen.
For in the journey of love, so wild and free,
You'll find the one who loves you, and you'll see,

So open your heart, embrace love's profound art,
For the one who will love you, shall conquer your heart.

The hardest thing I had to do was tell you to count to ten.
We sat in your car
And you sobbed and begged
To stop the inevitable
There was nothing I could’ve said

This wasn’t goodbye
This was see you soon
This wasn’t the end
Because we both knew
We’d always look up
Under the same moon

The tables had turned
Because my tears ran dry
Yours came in tidal waves
But I couldn’t cry

Our time came to a close
The chapter was ending
But I couldn’t let your heart break
Not while it was mending

I softened the blow
Bubble wrap on barbed wire
Like dropping a bucket
Onto a bushfire

The hardest thing I had to do
Was tell you to count to ten
But only when eyes were closed
Could you begin

I gave you a final kiss
My hands left your touch
And if I’m being honest
I don’t remember much

You started to count

I couldn’t break down

I got to the door

I couldn’t fall to the floor

I watched you leave

I couldn’t breathe

I sat alone

I lost my home

I boarded the plane

But it wasn’t the same

It wasn’t the end

It wasn’t the end

It wasn’t the end

One two three four five six seven eight nine ten




I walked away

But your eyes were closed