For Al, who left us, Nov. 22, 2014

With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.

Al,
You ask me when the words come:

With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,

Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for body restoration,
Transpositional for poetic creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.

Al, you ask me from where do the words come:

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here, 
poem aborning!
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied!

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
__________
(this poem more than most,
for its birth celebrates
my loss, your loss,
which cannot be exonerated 8/7/18)


__________
written at 4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012

Greenport Harbor, N.Y.

You see way back in the nineties I was a hooligan from way back, but I didn't really like my father despite him being so nice to me, I said to mum that I don't understand what bugs me in dad, but I still fought or teased him, because he couldn't be my kidnapper in his previous life because all my childhood lives that were kidnapped while my dad was my dad, you see dad might've been a foe from when I played footy as Albert Waldron, yeah that might be right because I might have been a bit scared of talking about that thinking dad was an atheist or a non church going Christian who believed in heaven and hell like my mother
I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to dad about what I see in him
Because he was my dad, I know he was nice to me, but at that stage I hated his authority that he brought up, and as an adult I fought back, I was visioning war veteran or maybe he was a footy star when I played footy as Albert, you see I treated dad more like a football mate than a dad like I said how are you going cobbler and dad said mmmmmm a little boy mmmmm
He never said that exactly but in fact he was wondering why I was fighting him by saying come here briany why are you fighting us and I ran off saying oohhhh you are just a football mate but mum and dad were worried about me, and despite me still acting like a spoilt little brat, they said give him medication to calm his anxiety
Down, because my problem was anxiety and mum and dad got in my way, and I was drinking to get rid of my previous life thoughts but I became the person I never wanted to be, sometimes I told dad I was a hooligan and he said a hoodlum which was his name for a hooligan but really I was just thinking that isn't me to think things like that and before my dad's mother passed away, I yelled at my parents because they gave me a ****** room while they got a good room and dad really annoyed me, you see I might have been seeing this football player I fought with as Albert Waldron
You see dad was finding it hard to get through to me but I was thinking football foe, I have no idea why I teased dad, he tried to joke with me and all I see in him is that footy watching man
And despite him not watching the footy with me, I still saw them in him, ya know a cool kid to pat and Lyle even if I wanted to be with them because I was the footy fan of the family because I was Albert Waldron back in the late 1800s and early 1900s and I might have remembered dad from the crowd or an opposing player or even member of the pub I drank in and I was hearing voices in the pubs as I mucked around with the footy players as they called dad a great big old fogie
And I was him but I still was scared because I was still thinking of people being nice to me, ya know treating me like a little cool kid to the drinkers
But I had to grow up because I am not Albert Waldron anymore
I was in my mobile home and I was visioning people going about their duties like running and jumping having fun and fighting tying each other up
And I visioned dad getting really worried but I saw the football supporter coming down to rib me about Norwood losing but it was modernised by the raiders and the swans who weren't very good back then and one guy in the pub yelled at me for drinking from the jug and I said
Mate, I am just having a beer
You see there was a different atmosphere at the pub with dad
Yeah, I know it was father and son but when scott showed up
I was hearing voices from back
When I was Albert Waldron in my previous life
Scott was a fellow player and dad was this man cheering
I thought dad was teasing me
But really I was hearing his previous life as the old
Man in the Norwood football club, you see dad was in the middle of my voices and dad told me I was on my way to having an heart attack from smoking and drinking but I gave up drinking and smoking to try and stop the fighting but I fought dad for the last before September 11 2001 and that is where the voices stopped
But that wasn't true, that was where dad got sick of me and that was where I was determined to be Santa Claus but dad and mum was worried because of my past as a kid chaser from when I was st Nicholas of AntarcticIa and Blackbeard the pirate but mum and dad were worried about that we were fighting about that and I was visioning that old man at Norwood pub of dad's previous life and I was santa for 10 years and now my mind is saying dad is your dad but whether he was that old man in Norwood pub or Betty Campbell now, he was still my dad

captured in the psych ward, meet olly thomson



in the dark night a good samaritan named olly thomson was having a lot of problems

with his mind, you see it all started when he was visioning his little cat diamond was turning

wild to his eyes, and he had this vision from god to heal diamond, with his voices telling him what

to do.   first diamond jumped onto olly’s computer, like he was sending a message, and the first

voice came saying, you must get rid of diamond, cause you see he is not diamond, he is much more

than that, you see at first he thought it was his best mate brett who died, and wanted to save him

and he was saying come on calm down diamond, calm down diamond, you have to remain calm

i will heal you diamond and then diamond started to fight back and another voice from an old school mate peter

saying, it’s a raccoon, **** it, we don’t want any of them in this country and then diamond let out a little meow

as if he was very scared and then linty chamberlain came into olly’s head saying, you must **** your cat, for it

is the dingo that killed my baby daughter Azaria, and olly’s dad said, it’s our cat diamond, he could be brett

he could be a raccoon and he could be the dingo that killed azaria, and diamond was dead and olly said, what have i done

and olly’s parents came down after they called the police, and they wanted to know what was bothering olly, and when

the police arrived, first they had a word with him, and then they carted olly off to the HDU, to get a mental health assessment

and as olly got caught the old mens kids who used to be his friend said, your not like us anymore olly and we don’t like you anymore

olly and illy said one word in the back of the paddy wagon, which was, i am the guy, your mother warned you about, you see olly

got that saying off the movie cabin by the lake, and the police ?shut the paddy wagon door on olly and drove him off to the HDU,

and when he arrived, all the mental health professionals were there, and olly was kicking and screaming and ron gave him a shot

of ****** to calm him down and then when he was completely calm the nurses allowed olly into the HDU, where olly did nothing

but watch the television, and talk to the nurses and also olly got on very well with charlie chaplin and patty roe, who had very good

conversations, and harry at the first glance of olly said, i am going to **** you, and ron went over to olly to ask him some questions

about why he is in there and olly said i am 323 years old and born on christmas day, and i lived underground while the dinosaurs

were roaming around the earth, and ron then brought out the breakfast trays, and then handed out the morning medications

and illy was handed risperidal, which was made to calm him down and he stayed on melleril as well, and at first risperidal was

helping him write stories, fact or fiction and he wrote a story which one of the nurses read saying, olly was the great don lane

and the don lane show was olly’s way to escape his painful voices, although none of that was in the poem he wrote about

him being don lane and then tommy came out to watch TV and olly touched tommy on his ***** saying, you are my best mate

on my pirate ship, and i remember tying you up in the bottom room on the deck and tommy said LEAVE ME ALONE YA ****

and went over to the nurses to put in a complaint about olly and every time olly’s parents came, and at the second they leave

olly jumped up and threw a very big tantrum needing four doctors to calm him down, and then olly went back to his chair to

watch TV and wait for his next visit by his parents, you see olly was a bit of a loner, you see his only real friends are his parents

and that was the reason why he killed his cat diamond, and he said to harry, ya know i am 323 years old and born on christmas day

and harry said, can you shut up, i don’t want to hear your constant chatter, because i have killed many a man, and i am devious and

cunning enough to **** you, while your in here, and olly said, i was the original santa claus and harry said ******* ****, i don’t care

who you are, you are fucken bothering me and then harry got up and walked over to hassle the nurses and then ron came out with

the lunches and olly said, thank you, i can do with a decent feed and charlie chaplin said yeah, but it’s not a decent feed here

and harry said, you expect me to eat this slop and threw his lunch all over olly and he said, is that any way to treat your ancestors

you see i am 323 years old and born on christmas day and my first life was your great great great great great grandfather and harry said

shut up **** and get the **** away from me, olly wood and olly said he was a hooligan after that, robbing banks and stealing ships

i even stole blackbeard the pirates ship, and chopped blackbeards head off and harry said SHUT UP **** and after lunch, ron went over to the TV room

to talk with olly and said, do you know you are ******* people off here and olly said, of course, but it ain’t my fault, i was merely stating out i was

harry’s ancestor and ron said, here is a eppelin, ok, it will control your overactive imagination and olly said, i am 323 years old and born on christmas day

and then said, i could be, you don’t know, your just a lousy psychiatrist, i am the spiritual healer of the land and ron went into his office to search

the web to find out olly’s problem and there was this new drug which can calm an overactive imagination which was seroquel, you know 700 mills

will control your mind, but it can hype your overactive imagination, so we may need to give you another drug called serenade, and keep

him here in the HDU for a few weeks to be monitored, as this medication mightn’t work and then at 5, ron brought out the dinners and ron spoke to

olly about changing his medication, to seroquel and serenace, but you must cooperate with us, because for some people seroquel can hype

you up, and the serenace is there to calm the seroquel down and olly said, when i was a kid, i was treated like an llke an old fogies kid  or a hooligan

and i reckon that i need something for that because, i know my mates have moved on, but my illness says they moved on swearing to never muck

with the old fogie, olly, he’s not like us, cause he goes to bed early and olly said, there is another name he was called, a old bludger or a dole bludger

which could be because he had no cool friends when he was at school, and olly considered himself very cool and in 1 hour, ron brought out the nightly medications

and first to tommy, then to charlie and over to patty and over to harry and then he gave the seroquel and serenace to olly and olly said can i have a coke please

and ron went away got olly a cup of coke and clocked off and bought a pizza and went home to watch TV, and falling asleep on the couch, as usual, thinking

today went very well, he THINKS.

The Blue Canoe*

Had dinner at the Blue Canoe again,
A once every summer ritual,
Open aired, open to the senses, this eatery lies,
Nestled in the grasses, on the bay, in the port...

Had the onion rings that come
Wrapped around a boat mast,
In size order, smallest on top,
With BBQ mayo, superseding ketchup.

Watched the ferries shuttling,
As the sun collapsed, exhausted,
And slipped into the bay for a quick swim.
The ferries must work till 1am.
No dunking for them, either.

The clouds were magnificent.
No, I cannot write a poem about the cloud colors.
Their shape shifting inexhaustible,
Mine eyes high on their creativity,
I'm just not good enough a poet to tamper with that sky.

Green apple wedges and Caramel dipping sauce.
Best desert idea. Four bucks.
After dinner, see Wolverine?
Nah. He'll keep.

After-dinner stroll.
Want to try the carousel?
Suddenly the Nana~Grandma is seven again
Twice? Yay!
Of course, I do, snag the gold ring.
Yes! Red ticket! Free ride!

The band is playing Henry Filmore marching tunes
In the open space nested next to the carousel.
Old people liking old music.
Oom Pah Pah. Cute but boring.
What! No Mraz? We've been had!
Ferry home. Water smooth.
Breeze, a steady, warm two knots.
Time and Temperature? Perfect.

We drank a sparkling rose.
We had a sparkling evening.
Long week, tired at the molecular level.
I think I took my jeans off, nothing else,
Never made it to under-the-covers-land.
Woke up at 245, to write it all this down,
Recalling the last time we ate at the Blue Canoe.
When I was a better-poet
For then, I wrote....

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your ship babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian Prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
Declaring, without stuttering this time,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, a very old bartender's recipe,
Salt air, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, marine gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order,
Onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment, now satisfied.*


August 2nd, 2013

Ask me for directions, meet me there, so we can compose jointly, drunk on senses overloaded...

Brian the cool vinnies bloke


you see brian allan was looking for something to do, to get him from being street trash

and a very nice lady named rowena said why don’t you work for vinnies, and brian said why not

and the next day, he was given an interview with helen, who was the boss at vinnies, and

she thought it would be great to have someone to do the bins and vacuum the floor before the start

and after 4 weeks of being there, brian thought he would like to be santa claus, and had to make uo

a proper reason for doing it, so brian said, i like the idea of giving the kids, who hate shopping with parents

a treat and helen thought she will make gingerbread men, to tickle the childs taste buds a lot,but helen was

in a bind, because i haven’t got a beard and she suggested i spray paint my real beard, but my parents were against that

because it would go against everything that santa stood for, but brian got angry with his parents and told them

that if they spray painted his beard, there will be no smart alek of a kid to pull his beard off, and as brian said that

his father yelled out, THAT’S ENOUGH, thinking i cared nothing about the kids of this city but that offended brian a lot

and made him hit his father, and this got brian really hyped up on being the best santa claus in canberra, and then

when brian explained to helen that it was causing a stir with the family to spray paint the beard, helen decided to

get a fake beard for me to use, and on the first day i played santa, i offered some of the adults gingerbread men

and they said, save them for the kids, and one little girl, who had the same resemblance to my eldest niece, said

i was a fake santa, and the santa at the mall was more real than i was, and some of the vinnies ladies brought their

own grandchildren in to get their gift from santa and i did my first year of santa, despite some smart a lek of a kid

attemptng to pull my beard off, but i was too smart for him, and after christmas was over packed my santa suit away for the first time

and then i met david who did the shoes, and i found him very good to talk too, you see i said when he dies he will be the

shoe shine man in heaven, but he sounded like he hated the idea, and he liked to joke around with stephen and mable and

i vacuumed the floor and then went outside to empty the clothing bin, and i did this all the time, ya know every day, and i had ken and brian

to help me, but brian thought it would be cool to bang on the clothing bin, while i was still in it and i told helen and she said

you should speak up for yourself, because i seem to let people walk all over me, and really i can’t be bullied by this so called brian

character, and then i started something new, you see i thought, it would be nice to to cook lunches 3 days a week at the new mental health

building, called the rainbow and i learnt how to do creative writing as well as meeting the messiah and a man named barry, who was a

really cool poet, sort of reminded me of my father, mainly because of his poem sounding like banjo patterson and henry lawson, and barry

was a lover of fitzroy, and supported the brisbane lions afl club, and i went to the club i do the bbq for, to watch the game with him and

he left before the end of the match and, i continued to go about my merry way, cooking meals at the rainbow and going on trips with the rainbow

having sing-a=longs and one man, warwick, swam 45 km at once and helen got a fire engine and i sat in it, and a star canberra raiders star

came to vinnies and signed a ball for me and my second year of santa claus went well also, i wrote fly burgers also that year, which was

funny and when i read it out, everyone was laughing along with it and they clapped it, and i read out the fact i missed scott macdonald also

and i went to queensland that year also, and when i got in my santa suit, i was visioning i will tell the kids i am an australian santa and instead of

living on the north pole, i lived right here in canberra but my parents who were strict on keeping kids imaginations flowing, hated me disillusioning

the kids minds, you see here is a poem about the aussie santa

ya see g’day mate i am the real santa

i don’t live at the north pole

i live in canberra australia, ya know the hot place, around christmas day

ya see ya know christmas is great as i do my gigs at vinnies

and as a treat i give out gingerbread men and lollies

you see christmas is fun for all ages dudes, yeah it’s fun oh yeah that’s right mate

i hope you don’t do ya santa gig way to ****** late


you see i thought i was given this gig, to bring the cool into santa

and one year i was doing my gig with an orange soda

who loves orange soda, i love orange soda

is it true, oh yeah it’s true ooh ooh ooh oh yeah

and in the following year, i was feeling fine, and my psychiatrist reduced my medication and that pushed me straight to the psych ward, where i thought

i died, and the psych ward was the gate to heaven and that ended the cool vinnies kid reign but i came back and i was more interested talking with david

and doing santa claus and that year i was checking tapes, but that only lasted 5 months, because there were getting more tapes coming in, i couldn’t keep it up

and santa was the thing, and because i was a good worker, suddenly everyone wanted me, but that was because of my manly charm, and helen left and glenn

came in and he had this little jingle, brian brian brian everything is fine, brian brian brian he’s a friend of mine brian brian brian makes the carpet shine?

you see his name is brian brian brian, and glenn sang that song to me every time i did the vacuuming at the shop and then after a few more santa gigs, glenn left and

paul s came in after vinnies had no boss, but i was still santa claus there and paul s was the official photographer for my santa claus gig, and that made me feel cool

and now, i am not santa anymore, but i really enjoyed the attention.

The Roman Road runs straight and bare
As the pale parting-line in hair
Across the heath. And thoughtful men
Contrast its days of Now and Then,
And delve, and measure, and compare;

Visioning on the vacant air
Helmeted legionnaires, who proudly rear
The Eagle, as they pace again
The Roman Road.

But no tall brass-helmeted legionnaire
Haunts it for me. Uprises there
A mother’s form upon my ken,
Guiding my infant steps, as when
We walked that ancient thoroughfare,
The Roman Road.

drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?

life is our poetic reality,
you are the best ever
metaphor,
the one poets
keep stealing from
each other,
at the intersection
of our eyes crossing

your disruptive crying poetry,
bring to me in NYC,
and I'll take you to
poetry slams,
tango parties, a real Chinatown,
blow smoke up your nose,
Waltz step on your toes,
drink with you
in Central Park at five am,
visit half a dozen museums,
take you to the ballet,
and then you can maybe,
cross a few to-do's
off of our mutual
intersections

care taken,
if you want hide deep,
but to late for thee and our world,
your name on the roster
of poets by night,
tinkers, soldiers,
and some who tailor
poems bespoke
for the ones who
dare not reveal their true (s)elves
in the words they write.

1431
poems in ye old inbox,
genteel knocking,
whispering thru stolid front door
love me a little lot,
little lot, love me?

these are the holy-of-the-holies
attention-me-crystal-cries,
prayers, wry observations, nature collations,
me and thee adorations,
heart rendering
screams of need,
these are the moments in your life
raw-roughened gifted
or threaded smooth cursed,
but tendered unto my caring

am old man.
my poetic voice is just
memories that are
repetitive lies and lines.

speak in simple sentences declarative.
this is nature's way.

darkness approaching is indeed my
au courant poem, mon actuellement.

I have seen betterdays

ain't young enough to be afraid no more
write what pleases me.

this day leases me
what pleases me
and this is as close as I can come
to being human
and writing my flawless poem.

Anything I can do to keep you,
happy and poetry-free
from midnight
till the **** crows
and slumber trumps
the restless words
that will wait
till mo(u)rning born,
and the kingdom of poetry,
awoken,
comes alive

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger,
by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment,
now satisfied.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me

long have I searched for my
flawless poem,
knowing it my be
my next one,
each a doorway to the next

this one, and the
one before,
never good enough,
keep the essay going
in fourth gear

I taste skin,
like a good poem,
the cheek, the shoulder bare,
the in between spaces,
the minty hint of décolleté,
the ankle chain,
turning my breath heated,
tips of red noses,
I take and
I keep
and no,
no refunds, no returns

nowadays,
grandpa's tools
outdated, shelved,
in their final
resting place,
blades dulled,
the technology
of his verbiage,
rusted by old age

the reads diminishing,
his touch, antiquated,
his best days, resting on top of
the ocean internet waves
his summertime buddies,
sand sun grass and
sea air perfumes,
singing,
"awe, we got ya,
cosy and comforted,
awaiting you in your chair,
overlooking our truest
sheltered applause"

so I write for me,
write for her,
for with her,
in love's sight,
life is
easy like Sunday morning,
and
that's why I'm easy,
like Sunday morning

wake up unscrubbed,
sleep still in the eyes,
dream crusted,
probably unaware, child,
that you are a poem
sleeping

when a little girl,
reverting, designing
real from dreams,
processing, reforming,
the dreams lusting
to be poems
to go awandering

don't
let the sin memories
of ancient words,
black gold bubble up
with the first striking of the blade

Delve
(excavate your soul deep)
Not

I did not come this poem to write
I did not come to repeat
Solomon's poem,
nothing new under the sun

don't,
daunting
wish to delve into my delusions,
my original sin
the deceit
the conceit
I am unique
I am original

*Experience anew,
Each time,
Say:
This is my first time,
This is my first work

I do not need your validation.
I validate myself
and in doing so,
who else
comes along
for the ride
on our tide?

create with no shame
create with no measuring stick
only this:
everything that is done well
                           is good art

Be Fertile and Radiate

captured in the psych ward, new year special




it’s new years eve and ron bought along his punch bowl and a few sushi dishes

as well as party sandwiches, to make the people in the psych ward have a good atmosphere

for the new year, and this year charlie chaplin man was going to read all of his poems as the

entertainment and the nurses did a lot of work so the patients feel calm enough to enjoy

charlie’s show, so medication time was before the show and even charlie, because he was worried

he would yell very loudly if he didn’t and then it started

ron said, ok guys we are going to have a mini new years eve concert run by this man charlie chaplin

charlie said, welcome and happy new year and my first song is   The schitzophrenic


You see I am sitting at the mall
I am having dillusions of people teasing me, and I wish this will all stop, oh please, just leave me the f..k alone
And then I hear voices that aren't really being said o hear Jon killed my best friend named Fred, the thing is I have no best friend, oh year
1 2 3 4 do the schitzophrenic
From the first diagnosis till the day you reach 45, you see if i take medication it can be controlled yeah oh yeah
I am schitzophrenic
Then I went to see my psychiatrist and he told me, to try and get a life, I told him I was blackbeard and John F Kennedy, he just threw a smart *** comment my way, I thought that comment was rude and ******, yes it is hard to be liked when you do
1 2 3 4 do the schitzophrenic
Yes it's easy to do, just let me hang out
You see with my medication it can be controlled, ooooh
I am schitzophrenic
You see I get paranoid when I see people around and right wing governments want us locked up
It mighty hard to have this illness and I cab say this
1 2 3 4 do the schitzophrenic
Do it once and you get all hooked and after that you feel like a geek, cause your a schitzophrenic, and also with medication it can be controlled
Oooooh I'm a schitzophrenic
Yes, that's true

charlie said, that was a great song and it’ll get you started ya know, the next song is maybe later


maybe later, i will get what i want

maybe later, i will rediscover the beauty

of being alive in this great world

it’s just a long-awaited journey

from beginning to end

and i will try and enjoy the moment

in the psych ward spotlight

i say, please slow down, your moving too fast

please almighty one, let me live long enough to give

a poor old soul a home

they don’t want a bench and they don’t want an old burnt out hall

it’s not fun for me

to look at these big buildings

with hot shot business types, when your not one

it’s enough to drive you mad

please make me except it could be later




the next song charlie sang was standing on the inside looking out, a song that explains what we are going through


standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

you see i was visioning i was in glenelg bay

but instead you get doctors saying how are you enjoying your day

i wished i was well and enjoying my life

instead of being in here wasting away

then i called out to almighty god

and the best i can get is a man who claims he is jesus christ

i said, no, were you nailed to the cross

and he said yeah after i rode in on my horse

and i said wasn’t it a donkey you ran in on and i was

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

i was getting bored, so i asked the nurse

to give me a pass out to the cafe

because i was starting to lose my mind

and when they said no i let out a little wine

i said please please please, mate, this place is driving me mad

the inmates here, smell really really bad

so the nurse made me a banana smoothie and i said thanks

and took it away to my bed, walking past every room before mine

i even tripped over a piece of fishing line

then i sat down in my glenelg bay apartment sipping my smoothie saying

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

dinner time came and i had fish and chips

it was ever so discusting, ya know like hospital food

i opened my orange juice and gave it one almighty sip

and i ate my chocolate mousse, yeah it is as tasty as

when dinner was over i went to the TV room

to watch the news and home and away

then some dude came into watch it with me

and he said, did you know i was GOD, i said, no

as i sat there thinking i was

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward in the psych ward

in the psych ward trying to get bet-ter


charlie chaplin after that song was over sang his small poem titled a smile has nothing on us, here goes


whether you let out a big smile or not

you could add it to your melting ***

what you need is a great big melting ***

big enough to take the world and all it’s got

every thing that you can eat

my rundown car is really neat

the coffee urn is piping hot

boiling whether you like it or not

but your smile comes through and through

like a fresh flower, blooming every day for me and you

i try to smile all the time

cause  it’s very fun to do

i like smiling, cause it’s fun



charlie then announced his next song saying spare me, because when your poor you always say spare me. here goes


spare me some money for the bus

spare me some money for the bus

spare me some money

so i don’t look like such a dummy

spare me some money for the bus

spare me some cutlets for my tea

spare me some cutlets for my tea

spare me some cutlets

and some vegetables

thank you very muchlets

spare me some cutlets for my tea

spare me some wine to go with that

spare me some wine to go with that

spare me some wine

so i can feel so divine

spare me some wine to go with that

spare me some chocolate for after that

spare me some chocolate for after that

spare me some chocolate

so i can have what you have

spare me some chocolate for after that


charlie then said, my next song is every day is a day of disappointment because being here really *****


Every day is a day of dissapountment

One day as I was walking down a busy street, saying g'day to everyone who u walk past, then I went back through the park and I saw so many walks of life, from the beggars asking for money and the rich refusing to give it to them, and it all sounds so crazy as I walk through doing nothing like that, after that I felt a bit peckish, so I went to the take-away to buy myself an hamburger with egg and bacon and there was this weird looking fella standing at the door, greeting each customer with a smile, he didn't really work there, but he will never be told to leave, cause he ain't a threat, oh no, then after that I went to the grocery store to buy enough supplies to last me for a week, or maybe more, I could hardly know, then after that, all that shopping made me a bit thirsty, so I went to the sports club and drown my day away, with a ice cold fosters lager or a ice cold can of VB, after that I will get so drunk o could hardly stand up and my friends drove me home and they also walked me inside, just to make sure, I don't collapse on the front lawn, you see, your day seems to go from good to bad, if you make the wrong choices and that makes every day, a day of dissapointment, after that horrible night on the *****, I got up and had a hangover cure, consisting of two raw eggs and worcestershire sauce, yes that sounds so very tasty, yes I love it and live by it, it really makes me feel like I can have a party in my mouth and everyone is invited to spend about a year or so, at the local sports club doing one thing every single day, and then after that you won't seem like every day is a day of disappintment for everyone on this earth



charlie then decided to pretend he had a best mate named albert waldron and back then albert gave him lyrics to a song, here it goes



Alfred Waldron looking back, oh yeah



You see I was a great footballer, man
Yes, I was so ace, but it was a long long time ago
About close to 1 hundred years
You see I payed in South Australa
And I played footy very well, and after the match
I would go to my car, and get my BBQ an start cooking the snags
Yes, I loved that, it was really really cool
Everyone thought I was an average cook
And they all came over for some meat
Yes, I even had some nice cold beers
Yes, I think thats so very cool
As I cooked the meat, the other players were saying
Come on mate, cook us some nice beautiful Aussie snags
I also played cricket, for South Australia as well
And I even took my BBQ to the cricket for after match food
The only way you can do that now, is if you just stayed local
And some days, like at the footy and the cricket
Every player got very vocal
I was a real Australian guy, who loved to play, footy or cricket
And I loved the BBQ at the end, yes it was so esquized
Yes I had the muscles, and I have lots of those
Everyone enjoy eating a snag a sausage
And then an egg and bacon roll
Since that footy life ended i felt cool


ron said to charlie just one more song because people are yelling and we can’t control them, but charlie we will have the midnights fireworks for you, ok



charlie said he has got his fresh old legs going wild here it goes


they will dance

they will run

into the midday sun

they will race

warm embrace

be a bit lazy

head to the pub

go to the shop

to buy some clothes

angels coming down

worshipping the town

playing football

driving cars

around the good old town

having drinks with the guys

fresh flowers for sale at the shop at SHOPRITE

SHOPRITE SUPERMARKET

CUTTING ALL THE FOOD BILLS YEAH

spiders coming through the window

to destroy all mankind

makin g lamb for dinner

nicest you’ve ever seen

i said i will stay home and watch my mate, mr bean

yeah, your fresh legs go wild

when they do all these things

and before the end, charlie got the entire staff and patients to sing auld lent zine at 10.00 pm

because everyone was getting tired and cranky
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne!

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu’d the gowans fine,
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot
Sin’ auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl’t in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a right guid willie-waught
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye’ll be your pint’ stoup,
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!




ron and charlie were helping each other clean up while the other patiens were being injected with ******

from yelling too much and after the cleanup was done, charlie went to the TV room to watch the fireworks

that were on at midnight on the TV, meanwhile, ron clocked off and went to the pizza hut and went home to

watch the fireworks on the TV thinking, today, ron made charlie a happy man, by letting him do his concert

it wasn’t till midnight but they can’t do that in the HDU.

With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.

Al,
You ask me when the words come:

With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,

Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for for restoration,
Transpositional for creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.

Al, you ask me from where do the words come:

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment, now satisfied.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
___

4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012

Greenport Harbor, N.Y.

Time an temperature...bottom right of
tele-visioning screen.
And now...torrent crystallized vertically, horizontally.
Fixity of the epochal *****--aegis to the
refining floodlight.
Reflected back to virtual reality, Jacob Boehme's
pewter dish.
Numbing, the iced pillow of cold illogic...slid
the presented head...melting.
Warming up and up to harmony and chaos--
reintegrated by and by Now.

With each passing poem,
The degree of difficulty of diving ever higher,
Bar incrementally niched, inched, raised,
Domain, the association of words, ever lesser,
Repetition verboten, crime against pride.

Al,
You ask me when the words come:

With each passing year,
In the wee hours of
Ever diminishing time snatches,
The hours between midnight and rising,

Shrinkage, once six, now four hours,
Meant for for restoration,
Transpositional for creation,
Only one body notes the new mark,
The digital, numerical clock of
Trillion hour sleep deficit, most taxing.

Al, you ask me from where do the words come:

Each of the five senses compete,
Pick me, Pick me, they shout,

The eyes see the tall grasses
Framing the ferry's to and fro life.
Waving bye bye to the
End of day harbor activities,
Putting your babies to sleep.

The ears hear the boat horns
Deep voiced, demanding pay attention,
I am now docking, I am important,
The sound lingers, long after
They are no longer important.

The tongue tastes the cooling
Italian prosecco merging victoriously
With its ally, the modestly warming rays
Of a September setting sun,
finally declaring, without stuttering,
Peace on Earth.

The odoriferous bay breezes,
A new for that second only smell,
But yet, very old bartender's recipe,
Salt, cooking oil, barbecue sauce, gasoline
And the winning new ingredient, freshly minted,
Stacked in ascending circumference order, onion rings.

These four senses all recombinant,
On the cheek, on the tongue,
Wafting, tickling, blasting, visioning
Merging into a single touch
That my pointer finger, by force majeure,
Declares, here,  poem aborning,
Contract with this moment, now satisfied.

Al,  what you did not ask was this:
With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poems birth diminishes me.
___________

4:38 AM
September 8th, 2012

Greenport Harbor, N.Y.

the 3 mental health conditions i have



depression, when i lose my jobs, and  when i lose my way in life, i go into a deep depression

or it could be anxiety, like like i go out, but when people treat me like one of their mob, i go into

a shell, saying, i am not a hooligan, i am a family person, and i would winge about this for days

i was thinking that other people, were trying to fight me because i am trying to be a street person

and the voice was saying you and your brother ain’t like us, you see, i always have been teased

by other poor people, because i am poor too, and i remember in the bar, i wanted to go to the bar

to have a beer, and these men wanted me to play with them, i was too young to understand, that they

were just using me, and i felt i was getting hassled, day in and day out, by the working class, it doesn’t stop

me from helping them, but i prefer to help the homeless, or disadvantaged at common ground, and

i look at common ground plans, and it could be how i visioned, when people yell at me, i go, leave me

alone, mate, i am a family person, i felt people were taking my job away from me, every day, i know now

that they weren’t, but i felt people were saying, i am sorry, your not cut out for helping us, today

i was really crazy, i implied to this man, who was doing the washing up, that i wanted to do this

he was upset, maybe, it is not depression, it’s me being anxious to help people, with my past, voices

saying don’t muck with brian, saying he is still a shy person, and despite all the good things i did

i left them, but the reason why i did, because, i was paranoid, that, i was being put in a little situation

by the people at the rainbow, like me being *******, in the craft room, i remember that note very well, i was

very uneducated about this, and i was trying to make it up to my mum after yelling at her and dad when i was young

and when i was drunk, and i wanted to be nice to everyone, but my kindness could have killed me, like i was

arguing with everyone, getting defensive so to speak, and i ate a lot of food and nearly died of obesity. well

i could say, i did die, of obesity, i am getting voices, every time i say i want to **** me when i was young, when i mean

the evil streak in me, the voice says, don’t, i liked that little guy, and he really did like that little guy, it could have

been created from the simpsons, there was a problem when i was working at the rainbow, i gave into temptation, where

i mucked with people who mucked around, but i still did my cooking and creative writing, and now, i have so many stories

to share with my youtube generation, but i was making mum and dad relax around me, and that is all i care about, and

then the crazy delusions i was getting when i killed my loving family cat, delusions were coming into my head, at first

i thought it was cool, i was hearing old mates and all my family, all gathering and the voices were great, and i tried every time

my parents got cranky, i tried to calm down, you see my parents would cry over spilt milk, literally, and then wondered why i

got cranky with them, i made a joke saying dad, don’t cry over spilt milk, dad got cranky and said, implying he was a clean person

and we should feel guilty about dropping anything on the floor, i said to dad, accidents to accure, and dad said, yeah but you need

to be more careful, and i wanted to escape my parents, because they were such projectionists in everything they did, and i found

out that leaving my house in a mess, was my way of playing cool for them, maybe in 2004, they were cleaning my house for me

before i went to hospital, but, i found mum and dad, as i said, real perfectionists, everything had to be perfect, i found it hard to

understand that my house if messy could spell eviction, but i was living in the backyard, yeah, mum and dad help, but i find a little

too much, i was doing fine when i moved in my new flat in hawker, i cleaned it every day, until i went into hospital, but dad

still wanted to be a dad, and i wanted him to be a friend, because, him and mums way wasn’t helping me, i understand where

it should help me, but it flaming didn’t, ya see i hated that little situation, where dad and mum were treating me like a 4 year old boy

so i brought back the memories for dad, saying why don’t you smoke again dad, saying, you seemed happier when you smoked

because, dad said, don’t argue with me be a BUDDHIST, i am a buddhist, but unlike christians, buddha allows a bit of teasing as

long as it is done in a peaceful, dad is dead, and now dad is betty campbell, but i want mum to one day understand this, because

i feel she is dwelling in all this, and she is worrying about me, but, i prefer the life of enjoyment, and i like community spirit

you see i liked and still like how men used to say i am doing a wonderful job, i was visioning dad turning off me, like he was

dwelling in the past, i told dad that his father is macauley culkin, but he actually is ryan clark, and mums dad is macauley culkin

i know this cause i am cronus, i liked when men said to me, keeping busy, mate, keeping out of trouble, mate

because i liked helping in the community, but mum and dad, i feel, were treating me like an old fogie, when they were complaining

about me doing volunteer work, i liked volunteering, every job was fun, mum and dad just worried about me, but in hindsight

i didn’t want them to worry, ok i never liked all that being my mums son, nor i hated being a little kid, i sit there and let us big adults

muck around, i liked how i was feeling down in the dumps, and i rang up dad and mum and we’ll doing the same thing

then i heard dad say, i am not mucking around in cool kid groups with brian, like a real **** would say, you see i was being an adult

i hated how dad tried to be like the in crowd, there is nothing wrong with that, but he looked like he was worried, i felt like saying

STOP WORRYING ABOUT YOUR SON BRIAN, AND RELAX, i tried to get him to relax by asking him to watch the cricket

and other shows, he refused, and now dad is dead, he is betty campbell now, but dad obsessed with doing everything perfect

if ya wanna copy dad, fine, but, i want to have better people around me, ok, to have PARTIES, dudes

rather than just doing it with mum, i am saving for adelaide on nye and the carols in the domain as well in sydney

PLEASE BUDDHA, BRING DAD CLOSER TO ME, ON TV, i miss him

A thousand miles west of me
She lies in a nursing home bed,
Oxygen and medications
Prolonging the end of a well-lived life.

This night, the weariness settles around me,
A grim comfort promising sleep,
If only I may close my eyes in surrender....
As if my staying awake somehow sustains her.

Eldest of her sons,
Sometimes wise,
Sometimes wiseacre,
Sometimes a visioning prophet,
Sometimes a fumbler in the dark,
I am empty of words tonight.

What wisdom have I now
When wisdom's called for?
Decisions to be made, and naught to say:
I'd give my kingdom for the wisest way.

Oh, I have prayed,
Have pleaded with the skies....
I suffer in the silent darkness.
Knowing Mother's youth and strength are spent;
Time's inexorable turning pulls her in,
Body nearly gone, reason razor thin
Tell me her fight's a battle Time will win.

But now, while the hovering remains,
The wretched anguish overhangs my soul,
And memories of Mother, young and strong,
Tireless and loving, industrious, filled with song,
Make poignant my pre-mourning hours.

Ordinarily able-bodied,
stop me in my tracks
I don't mind
a few days rest
weekend plans
you wreck

Detours don't phase me - obliterate stigma, my response

I'll walk or crawl or submit to the sidelines
I'll ride or sit or be a tour guide
Attendance, no question
my life's purpose
in one day gathered
I go, no hesitation
re-visioning the day
lesson learned, past mistake

Detours don't phase me - obliterate stigma, my response

different, I imagined the scene
life's greatest mystery:
reality versus dreamed
unseen struggle, just as real
ridding shame and damnation
love is the answer here

Detours don't phase me - obliterate stigma, my response

me :  “hey what does love mean to you? how does it make you feel?”

   **him : “Love is something two people share, it’s not something only one person can find. Love is zoning out of reality to find yourself subconsciously visioning you and that person building a life together. Love is taking a chance and giving up the one thing you can’t live without, to build a life around something else entirely. Love makes me feel as if I’m going on an adventure where my safety and well-being cannot be assured. I’m setting out on an adventure where the possibilities are endless. I feel like Bilbo Baggins signing that contract. Towards love I feel nothing less than thankful because I’d not be who I am without it today.”

  me : “i love you”

  him :  “I love you too.”

THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY, THE MESSIAH SAVES BRIAN



YOU SEE BRIAN FIGHTING WITH DAD WAS WEARING THIN, AND BRIAN WANTED TO

GO ON HOLIDAYS, HE STARTED OFF GOING TO THE BEACH WITH OTHER MENTAL HEALTH

GROUPS, AND THIS IS WHERE HE MET THE MESSIAH, WHO WAS A STRUGGLING POOR PERSON

LIVING IN ****** NEIGHBOURHOOD AFTER ****** NEIGHBOURHOOD, AND BRIAN FOUND OUT

HE WANTED TO BUILD A TEMPLE IN ISREAL, AND DIE THERE, AND I SAID, THIS GUY IS CRAZY, SO

I DON’T WANT TO GO ON HOLIDAYS WITH HIM, BUT DUDES, MY LITTLE SHY BOY KEPT OF CREEPING BACK

AS I DIDN’T WANT TO UPSET HIM, AS HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND, I LIKE HIM HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND, BUDDY

AND THEN AFTER I TOLD HIM THAT, AFTER HE HUNG AROUND AT THE MENTAL HEALTH DROP IN CENTRE

KICKING A BIG BALL, AND MAKING THE BOSS SAY, STOP THIS IS DAFT,

AND I GOT INTO A FEW PROBLEMS WITH MY GAINING WEIGHT, MAKING ME FAT AND ON DEATHS DOOR

AND THE MESSIAH, WAS HAVING A FIELD DAY TEASING ME, I CAN TAKE IT, BUT HE JUMPED UP AND DOWN

HAVING FUN, BUT THE JOKE WAS ON HIM, WHEN ALL THE ADRENALINE, WORE OFF, AND HE LOOKED

NEGATIVE AGAIN, AND I FOUGHT MY DEMONS, THINKING HE NEEDS  SOMEONE TO GO ON HOLIDAYS WITH

BUT WHEN I ASKED HIM HE SAID NO, BUT I FELT AWFUL, CAUSE I WANTED TO GIVE HIM A MATE FOR A WHILE

TO GO ON HOLIDAY WITH, I WENT TO ADELAIDE ON MY OWN, IN 2009, AND THE MESSIAH RANG ME UP, AT NIGHT

AND I TOLD HIM ABOUT MY DAY, AND AFTER I GOT BACK HE STARTED TO TALK ABOUT, WANTING TO GO TO

AMSTERDAM, IN HOLLAND AND BARCELONA, BUT I WAS VISIONING, THAT THE MESSIAH WAS A BIT TIMID TO

GO ON HOLIDAYS, SO I KEPT ON PUSHING HIM INTO GOING ON MANY HOLIDAYS, BUT HE JUST DIDN’T BUDGE

SO I WENT TO BATEMANS BAY ON MY OWN, AND ACTUALLY, I TOOK THE MESSIAH ON A FEW DAY TRIPS DOWN THERE

AND DUDE, I REALLY ENJOYED THAT, AND I WANTED TO TAKE HIM TO OTHER PLACES, BUT BECAUSE WE WERE DIFFERENT

BUT REMEMBER WHAT PAULA ABDUL SAID, OPPOSITES ATTRACT, BUT I AM NOT GAY, OK, I JUST WANTED TO SHOW

THE MESSIAH HOW TO ENJOY A GREAT HOLIDAY, AND FEEL BETTER ABOUT STANDING ON HIS OWN TWO FEET

THE MESSIAH HAS MORE CHANCES OF GETTING TO AMSTERDAM RATHER THAN BUILDING A TEMPLE, WHAT BOGUS CRAP

LATER ON, ME AND THE MESSIAH WENT ON A HOLIDAY TO MERIMBULA, FOR 6 NIGHTS OVER THE NEW YEAR PERIOD

AND IT WAS FUN, WE WENT TO TURA BEACH AND WALKED TO THE OTHER BEACH, WHERE THE NYE FIREWORKS AND CONCERT

WAS BEING HELD, AND I WENT TO THAT, CONCERT WHILE HE LAID ON HIS BED, WATCHING TV AND SWIMMING IN THE POOL

WHICH IS FINE, THE MESSIAH WAS ONE DUDE, THAT WAS FINE WITH ME PARTYING, BUT WHEN IT WAS OVER I WAS TOO

WORRIED THAT I WOULD WAKE THE MESSIAH UP, SO I SAT IN THE BATHROOM GETTING RID OF MY GREAT POPULARITY

CONTEST WITH ALL THE YOUNG DUDES, EVENTUALLY THE MESSIAH WOKE UP, AND I SHOWED THE MESSIAH THE PHOTOS

OF THE COOL DUDES I PARTIED WITH, AND ALSO PHOTOS OF THE BAND AND THE FIREWORKS, YEAH THIS WAS RADICALLY AWESOME DUDES

AND THEN ME AND THE MESSIAH WERE GROWING AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER, BUT THAT IS FINE, BECAUSE, I ACTUALLY

HELPED A POOR MAN, GET BACK ON HIS FEET, THEN I WENT TO THE GRAMPIANS AND ALSO MELBOURNE ON MELBOURNE CUP DAY

AND I WON $72 ON PICKING THE WINNER ON THE MELBOURNE CUP, GREEN MOON, AND BACK TO ADELAIDE AND SYDNEY

AND I WENT TO A BASEBALL MATCH, AFTER GOING TO BONDI BEACH, AND I HAVEN’T GOT A JOB AS SUCH, WELL I HAVE GOT

A JOB AS AN ARTIST AND A WRITER AND A YOUTUBE ****** ENTERTAINER, YOU SEE, LAST YEAR WAS DIFFICULT, CAUSE I LOST MY DAD

BUT, THE LAST TIME HE PICKED ME UP, WAS THE TRAIN STATION AFTER THE BASEBALL

I DON’T SEE THE MESSIAH MUCH NOW, BUT I REALLY HELPED THAR GUY, UNDERSTAND, THAT YOU SHOULD PRACTICE WHAT YA PREACH

I WANNA GO TO ADELAIDE ON NEW YEARS EVE, AT THE END OF THIS YEAR

GOODBYE MESSIAH, THANKS FOR LETTING ME HELP YA, GET A HOLIDAY

little daddy waddy

******* his thumb

just like a stuck up little brat

i am a man, ya know, run of the mill

though i am penniless, but

that doesn’t stop me from being talented

but dad teased me like a stuck up little brat

is what he looks like to me

yeah, he helped me

but i wasn’t his cool kid, back then

what is wrong with me

to him, i was trying to be a cool kid

dad, to me was a nerd

cause he probably only liked together people

i tried to gain his respect

but i learnt together means theory for *****

i am never going to grow up for dad, but he isn’t around anymore

i am a real real man and dad was like a little baby wa wa wa wa wa

i liked pat in my head, because i didn’t want to pick fights with dad

i was visioning dad as a perfect little gentlemen, what’s wrong with that

i probably hear laughing at my mental health TV station idea, what is wrong with that

that’ll be fun for the poor and suffering to have a mental health TV station

mentally ill people love entertaining

i hate voices in my head saying to rob my stuff

i was a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

who’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

brian’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

ha ha ha, i hear voices of old mates protecting me

they look like geeks who are trying to be like little homely kids

dad never understood that i was trying to be nice

he didn’t understand i liked partying at shopping centres

i wanted to be a real hotshot cool kid, to all the party young dudes, i liked that

i chucked a tantrum because dad wanted me to be with disability workers, i wanted more

ya know mucking around in groups with them, yeah they are nice

but i am an independent artist and writer aqnd youtube entertainer

mind you carers are helping me be an independent artist and writer

i was having delusions that my mates pat and lyle were treating me like a little cool kid, they ain’t my daddy’s though

dad was, i never got on with him, i wish i did

dad tried to say, your one of the young dudes, treating me like him and mummy, i hated that, but i tolerate that now

i heard old mates saying, leave the more big bad brainy winey, your not like us, NEVER

when i committed that awful act on an 11 year old boy, i heard my mate pat say in my head

you are not ever going to be treated like one of US  young dudes ever again

the voices say to me, i am a cool kid to the young dudes, but i ain’t better though

then the voices say, ***** are better, i told the voices, i am not a criminal, i am not a pheadphile

i am party loving, poetry loving cool man, dude

the voices can say **** till they are blue in the face, i ain’t getting worried, but the voices are annoying me all day, I HATE THAT

i tried to be a little cool kid playing cool for people going to bed, and dad said, uhhhh! get away from me, kid

dad was a man, and now he’s little betty campbell, see ya betty from cool man brian

you see dad up there in NIRVANA, i am the only disabled person in our close knit family

and you are being forgotten too, in a way, in the cool way, dad did say, he doesn’t wanna be cool

well, this affects betty’s mojo

Part 1: The Gift

Everyday had become the same, gray canvas and painted in it,
The inspiration of lifeless eyes in a dead portrait;
In this endless pile of everydays, somewhere I felt the chains fall apart,
Her shadow touched upon the gray, still expressions start to become art.

Long I hadn't turned the way,
The little path gleams, tucked away from familiar sounds and passing cars;
Lost in clever grasses, where a fragrance rests and sunlight falls,
In soft gold streaks, between the trees;
There's magic there,
It lays its silver dust upon the ordinary of passing days.

I was an old Peter Pan,
I'd moved on into the crowd;
But then, from within her deep brown eyes,
I felt a little magic pierce inside;
And before I knew, I watched my concrete world,
Laden with a thin snowfall of silver dust.

There was late an evening at her home,
An open window let in the sky, and between us,
My feelings, unstated, wrapped the quiet like a silken stole;
We listened together, Loreena Mckennit's high-pitched voice sang the dead lover's tune -

"Her eyes grew wide for a moment,
She drew one last deep breath;
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight...
Shattered her breast in the moonlight
And warned him - with her death."

I had felt the song a plenty times,
But I watched it now stream upon her, huddled in a yellow wool jacket,
And drip into her soul, behind closed eyes.

There, as the night raced by, the plan fell upon me like a flash;
It was ten nights to her birthday, February the 7th,
Ten nights I would make her a gift.

Office mornings passed like a dream,
Her hair a cascade, the touch of those eyes -
The excitement of that dark bottle perfume on a moonlit date;
And a bright bulb glowed late hours,
I painted in silence her favorite lines;
One page a night,
Visioning in color, Alfred Noyes' that timeless tale.

The green sketchbook had waited these empty years,
Waited in dust for a spark in dead wires and a deep brown smile;
10 pages of dark and red, and the 11th would be mine,
A rainbow across a clear blue sky,
And below it, my heart poured in two white lines -

"Here's something beautiful to think of. We have a lifetime ahead of us to be by each other's side and chase dreams together."

Part 2: February 6

I woke up early to a broken spell,
The winter sky had faded, my window let in the clear warmth of spring;
10 pages done - today I carried a rainbow heart;
Nerves jangled, and a tear drop rolled,
Alone a witness to a numb vessel's flickering hope.

Like every morning I waited,
Our corner of the cafeteria was bathed in sunshine glow;
Here we shared that one cup of tea, and spilled random conversations,
That I mostly lost in her eyes;
I watched her walk towards me,
Yellow kurta, and the bright morning's charm, caught in a smile.

And then came the blow.

Her words that morning - how could I lose?
Her words that morning fell like ice on the rainbow,
And spread upon the freeze like the veins of a crack.

'I like him,' she said, 'the boy who sits across the room,
I like him, and I haven't told anyone yet,
I thought I'd first trust you.'

I don't know how I held that cup of tea and my eyes stood still,
For I lay before her, shattered on the floor.

A lifetime of repression was rehearsal,
Now was the stage and I played my part;
The trauma of her words seeped into my blood,
It imploded like a black hole inside - no form, no sound, no violence,
Just distilled, irrepressible force;
The pressure screamed, but all outlets held,
A tear touched my eyes, and in two blinks I swallowed it back.

Did she notice? She was endearing, absorbed in the boy,
Who asked her out on her new year night,
To bring in this springing rivulet of joy.

Alone that night, empty the 11th page stared up at me,
I could not think of the rainbow, as I wondered first how does a dead man breathe;
As the dark grew deep, my heart turned into a noose with nails inside,
If I could only paint that instead,
With happiness hung upon it, dripping blood down its still legs.

No!
Somehow, could I finish this rainbow - her rainbow,
If only somehow my hands didn't shake,
And this cry would stop so that I may concentrate;
I looked at my phone, the dreaded clock never stops,
It was 12, and it read, as it were, the 7th of February.

Part 3: The Birthday

She opened the door, bright eyes of delight;
'Happy birthday', and the present I handed her, wrapped in deep yellow gift paper;
'Don't open it now', I whispered, 'you'll never guess'.

I did not stay long, I feigned a sickness,
But as I walked back,
I imagined how she would open the yellow paper, and find that green sketchbook inside.

I knew how her eyes would turn upon the painted lines,
This was not a gift of paintings, she would know -
These were 10 pages of my soul;
And upon the 11th page she would find,
The seven colors of light upon a clear blue morning,
And below it, words painted in white -
"A life I wish you, as bright as the rainbow sky."

standing on the inside looking out, the psych ward story




standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

you see i was visioning i was in glenelg bay

but instead you get doctors saying how are you enjoying your day

i wished i was well and enjoying my life

instead of being in here wasting away

then i called out to almighty god

and the best i can get is a man who claims he is jesus christ

i said, no, were you nailed to the cross

and he said yeah after i rode in on my horse

and i said wasn’t it a donkey you ran in on and i was

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

i was getting bored, so i asked the nurse

to give me a pass out to the cafe

because i was starting to lose my mind

and when they said no i let out a little wine

i said please please please, mate, this place is driving me mad

the inmates here, smell really really bad

so the nurse made me a banana smoothie and i said thanks

and took it away to my bed, walking past every room before mine

i even tripped over a piece of fishing line

then i sat down in my glenelg bay apartment sipping my smoothie saying

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

dinner time came and i had fish and chips

it was ever so discusting, ya know like hospital food

i opened my orange juice and gave it one almighty sip

and i ate my chocolate mousse, yeah it is as tasty as

when dinner was over i went to the TV room

to watch the news and home and away

then some dude came into watch it with me

and he said, did you know i was GOD, i said, no

as i sat there thinking i was

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward trying to get better

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

standing on the inside looking out

in the psych ward in the psych ward

in the psych ward trying to get bet-ter

ya see, in the outside world, people should respect everyone, and if ya can’t

do that, you should be declared mental, but i might sound like a rich arrogant *****

i don’t mean to sound like a rich *****, because i give money to world vision

and i was a bit of a ******, because in spite of hearing that saying, i would do anything

for you, even slit my wrists, it might be that i disagree with saying those kinds of things

maybe because i love my life too much to do so, ok, you see, i remember those days

in the psych ward, back in 2004, for killing the family cat, or in 2013, for throwing my stuff

over the balcony, even my iPad, and i made dad mad, but dad, must have known he was

going to die soon, so he backed away, i don’t like arguing with my parents, i just found

them hard to get your say, like, i thought dad was treating me like a robber, or someone

who is committing crimes, actually i only went to the pubs, cause nobody judged me

well a few did, especially when i wasn’t that good, but i wanted my parents to respect me

i liked eddie, back then, sure, he teased me, but teasing is northing, i am sure i wasn’t going

to get fought, if people i knew left eddie alone, but all he did, was take my woman, and

only weirdos, worry about losing old women, and i was feeling popular when i hung around with him

it’s sort of the same with steve, he was angry, and stole my stuff, we played pool, pool, is cool

and we went to big bars in the city, and i remember going to the private bin with him, and i slept

on his lounge, yeah, it’s only a ****** neighbourhood, because they ain’t getting a fair go

some of the things i like in life, is people who leave money, to cure *** or cancer and

i like the kiddies getting a bit of money in children’s charities, i give, beggars on the street, if i got it, i give

i like people to donate food or money for the homeless, and i would appreciate when i work at common ground

i can cook them two hot meals a week, and entertain them with my poetry, you see i hated those situations

in the HDU, like a teenage girl jabbed me with a fork, because, i can help young dudes, keep out of places like that

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE HDU, IS NO PLACE FOR THE YOUNG, they would be scared of the yellers

the bikie ripping the TV, off the wall, and my family disagree with me doing this,telling stuff of my past, but

i feel i have to do, i don’t want their approval, i just want the gunk out of my head, i am a writer, an artist

and a youtube entertainer, in the last 2 days, i have been hearing voices of people calling me a woosey

and i don’t want to think i have to be careful, mind you, i don’t want to get fought, fighting ain’t my thing

dad laughed at my intelligent, i wasn’t aware that he was saying my fun in fighting is over, or i wasn’t

aware, he only laughed, at the spur of the moment, i am worried people are treating me like dad

all that fighting is in my past, and i don’t want to be told to shut up, the witch doctor and steven bradley

who murdered my last two reincarnated lives, were saying in a voice of the ****** at the charnwoon inn

who tried to grab me, saying, hang on, are you the guy from the charnwood inn, and in 2004, i heard

a voice from mark marl or, help me, i wanna get back to bowling, i know now, that is a bogus voice

mind you it could happen, if ya not careful, that was the voice of previous lives and nothing more

i was trying to muck with dad, saying mum is shy, but i found out, that dad preferred to muck with

my brother like that, well, that was the reason why i got jealous, now, laugh if ya want, but i was

visioning dad and mum wanting to do what i did with pat, and treat me like lyle, and i hated that

cause, i am not going to muck with dad like Pat, even if i was lyle, cause i was being young back then

ya know pat had heavy metal, ya know, lyle had air supply and slow stuff, i didn’t know much back

then, and when i was figuring things out, all dad cared about, is himself, i was a strange crazy person

thinking a few kids saying i was one of their mob, would make them be daddies, but maybe they are being

nice, and daddy figures makes them feel great, it makes people respect you, i thought patrick was respected

highly respected, but like most young dudes, some naughty said like a nice old lady and not a terrible grumble ***

and he was very helpful and we had fun together, dad thought i liked life in wood berry, ya know being isolated

well, going to the show was good and going to the football was great, i preferred the footy kids better than

the homebodies, but the truth is, we’re all the same, dad never took me to any footy match, only basketball

and he complained, and as one mate said i am a complainer, not going to give up keep on complaining

i also said a few words behind dads back to the messiah, about his grumble *** frown, i am not shy

to have a few words, as the messiah said, dad is mr cranky, and i looked as i agreed with him

you see, what was about the past in wood berry, forced dad to treat me like a rotten hooligan

i don’t want to go back to the HDU

i don’t want to be shy, i am a writer

i liked dad and mum coming over for christmas lunch at my place

dad looked to deeply into our fights

for me, it was FUCKEN schizophrenia

when i got out of hospital,in 2013, i spent all my money celebrating my freedom

mum and dad got mad, I AM POOR, and need people to understand

I HATE BEING SHOVED INTO LITTLE JOBS

big jobs like theatre, and poetry slams

i still hear dad, cause i believe in the paranormal, he is betty campbell

even if i meant to be angry with him it was because he was mr cranky and i have schizophrenia

i would love them to find a cure for mental illness, but that might be impossible

because mental illness to me, is a trauma from previous lives

saying i am a fool or a clot or anything else

as you might have guessed, i hate people judging me

i am going to ROME TO MOVE on saturday

i know only kids dance, or party, but that is just a clechate

i am going to the show on friday, cool man

i am doing the play again this year

i am cool

Had him since he was a baby sitting on my lap until he grew up
What a baby dog he will always be
This curious Airedale who befuddles me
Outsmarts me
Friends, oh he has friends
Especially people
What a cute face they always say
As he looks at them quizzically or innocently
I don't always tell them that his brain is working overtime
And this seeming charm is a facade.
Escape artist watching me garden and taking off to visit the neighbors
Once ran away during a thunderstorm down a busy road
to be rescued by strangers and taken to a nearby town's vet
Heartbreaking, wondering where he was
Not the last time he disappeared
Once on a mountain hike where only the visioning of a friend brought him back
Now he is twelve
How much longer do I have to be with him
To sense his vitality
His love of life
And love of walks
And love of chicken stuff
He will always be special in my heart and the hearts of others.

Ever walk into the dark hoping you'd get grabbed?
Ever held a knife's blade dreaming of the stab?
Visioning all that's wrong,
And all the ways to make them right.
Staring into the night sky waiting for the first glimpse of light.
Suddenly the light hits you,
The moment you look away.
Reveling all the scars,
Reminding you of the old days.
Each one of them was painful.
Each one of them made me smile.
Now I wait to be finished off,
Covered in oil,
Ready for the fire.
When I ignite my eyes will be on the night,
Standing there motionlessly on fire.
The unending pitch black night sky won't look as bad,
As the smoke raises higher.

This is my revision of the dark,
Picture a fire in a park.
Peaceful,
Indifferent,
Ignored by all.
A child watching,
Holds her doll.
And in her eyes,
There is the sun.
And the revision,
Has begun.

Every second of every hour, my heart lays heavy as thoughts of you race through my mind,
Oh my son how I am missing you.
Hours turn into days, days into weeks, never a moment passes by, I try to chase a happy thought visioning  your beautiful smile,  it never lasts long enough and once again I cry,  Oh son I'm Missing You.
Hearing your voice on the phone is a blessing every time, I never let you know that when we speak your voice tells it all. I can read you like a book just by your tone. Some days I hear a young man grown up so much but other days I can hear your pain and sense your fear and I know how bad you wish you were home. Oh my son I'm Missing you .
Every Holliday is sad for me as I know it is for you. Sweet baby boy of mine, two years have passed, it seems like forever since I've seen you. If we can just hold on a little longer, this uphill battle we've been on is on the down hill side of over. My Sweet Boy God  only knows How Much Your Momma is Missing You..

Green radiance surrounding atomic red
Twist and tie through the fabric of time
Mind visioning a corpse in its bed
A sole luxury without a fine

Acquiring a will
And possessing a mind
Let go and be still
For there's an answer to find

The day will come
When the disease will parish
And vibrate a beautiful hum
To such a day we will cherish

By Your Faith
You Shall Know Me
Yes.
IAM
Rise Now, Oh My Soul
As the  Illuminated Voice
Of Harmonizing Blessing
Be Love In All That You Do
Color the World Beautiful
And Know Peace
Love Grace Well
By Her Law  Resurrection
Is
Life Abundant
Visioning's KingShip
True Compass
For The Direction
Of The Earth

captured in the psych ward, throwing stuff out over the balcony





today ron had his hands full when mark kenneth was hearing crazy voices making him

throw all his stuff over his public housing balcony, mark didn’t know it *** a crime

but his voices were really driving him wild, ya know he heard voices from his family and friends

ringing around his head, you see he just started taking seroquel and it made him unable to relax properly

and he threw everything outside starting off by doing a raging artwork, which his parents hated, and ron knew

he was on seroquel, but he had no idea that he was suffering, because really it was hard, you see he was playing

the game and then some rough neighbours went into his house followed by the police and then mark was taken

off to ron’s HDU, and when he went to the waiting room he was visioning being a kid coming out of the sea after

being kidnapped, and the beach was at port lincoln and then ron went into his room and said mark what isa wrong

and mark said, i just left the sea after being thrown to the sharks and ron left him and the voice equoed all over the

HDU waiting room, driving mark completely nuts and ron yelled *******, and then ron came back to walk mark

to his room in the HDU, and then ron asked him questions saying why did you throw your stuff over the balcony and

mark said i am not sure and then ron said, we have to put you on an psychiatric order, where you must take your medication

but at present we don’t feel your safe on the outside, you could get bashed or something and mark said, can i watch TV and

ron said yes and went away to get his medication for him to take, days and days went by and this teenager was causing problems

with the cops and she was admitted to the psych ward and at dinner and lunch, in front of the staff held a plastic knife to mark’s

arm and mark said, why don’t you ******* and the doctors said, if you come in here, you must stick up for yourself and mark

who thought that this girl was a nice young girl and ron said, mark, you seem to weaken up, you really ain’t ready for this place

and mark said, send me home then, or take better care of me, so this girl can’t hurt me and ron took the girl away for the time being

and ron laughed at mark saying, he’s not like us, he thinks it’s a ****** game we’re playing, but it’s not a game, that girl was evil

but mark was so naive and very gullible that he became remotely scared of this girl and every time he spoke to ron, he asked

am i ready to get out of here and ron said, sorry mark, you ain’t well enough to get out just yet, you see mark was drawing pictures

and gave one picture to the girl saying, this is a pretty picture and i want to share it with you, you see mark hated the thought of

being like forrest jump or mr bean and in saying that, lenny was walking around expecting cuddles by the staff and he needed heaps

of medication, while mark was put on seroquel and eppelim to calm him down and draw heaps of pictures to hopefully make him

stand up for himself a bit more and ron handed out the evening meals and the evening medications and then went home and ordered

a woodfired pizza and lost himself to pay TV

i always imagined my first love, how i'll meet them, what i'd be doing. most of this i've just interpreted from reading books and what i see in movies. what can i say, i love all that cheesy romantic, "love at first sight", crap. i've never imagined what they'd look like because it can literally be anyone, i think that's both beautiful and nerve wrecking.

let me paint you the vision i've been visioning for a while, or at least one of the visions.

it's autumn or winter. i'm in a coffee shop. all you can hear and smell are normal coffee shop things. orders being made, names being called out for those orders, chatter, keys from laptop keyboards, and of course the smell of coffee dancing in the air. the smell under our noses and eventually, it sticks to the clothing i'm wearing.

i look up and there they are.

beautiful and completely ordinary. but not ordinary to me,
they're light and everything in between and out of this world.

absolute perfection.

Till today I'm still sitting alone the place where we both sit at every evening.
Those hopes and wishes made up at one green evening and those hopes still alive in my heart.
       Even today's tempest can't washed off

The tree that we both planted at that very evening , reaches its full growth with full of red flowers.

       Visioning to those flowers
       Thinking that it was you
       Is it will be the content of my heart?

My heart that flies when i see your smile
But today no wing to fly as you have taken my wings with your pass.

The thirst of water can't be replace by any other liquid.

      Let all my sorrows, mournful events be all washed away by today's
      tempest.
      The dirt that remains at our body can be washed off
      But the color of past that colored in my heart can't be washed

Now the tempest has over but small drops are still falling.
When the Sun is about to set a series of unending question rise in my mine
Will the mysterious breeze be blowing again?
Will that powerful rain be return again?

When I was about to returned home an Unexpected wind blew out all the pages of my poem

All loss
All gone
All Washed?
All Washed ! All WASHED!

---------------------------------------------------------------­---------------
must read this:
I wrote this poem at a lonely ground where wind were straying around me with a dark clouds above me. When I complete my poem i stood up to head towards home at the very moment wind blew my all pages and washed off.....
             THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH is actually not the theme of the poem. Its only my vision related to my beloved Sir.
             In my poem I used the word "Tempest" giving the striking similarity with our presents youth and all who are all busy with their works so they got no enough time to read my poem moreover most are not interested in reading poem instead of it they think only about the business for the profit, So, I know their is no one who will interest in my poem. Therefore it is useless. So, I conclude the poem with such five words and too to the title, My WASHED poem.

I see you still
Right?
As I sit here
And write
Mirror images of
Can I kiss you?
Goodnight

wholesome love sits here
in the many "may's"
in the hope for what can be cultivated
and in the hope of what can come about

in the staircase of thoughts
and in the apex of

              /\          \               /     /\  
            / s \          \   self  /     / s  \
          /  elf \          \  lo- /     /  elf  \
        /      -    \          \ve/     /  -acce \
      /   value  \           \/     / ptance  \
                            
                      
            
stacked up against each other in the form a trapezoid

               \            /\           /
                 \solid/&\stro-/  
                  \    /  ng \     /
                    \/            \ /

we share mantras her and I, sisterly maneuvering through this life

"We want to feel better" & "we want to be better",
...and so we set about finding the right equations
stacking meditations upon visioning upon affirmations upon counseling upon books of poetry, and teary-eyed artworks that carry our twisted knots that do not undo with words or the spitting out of crunched up syllables onto the ground

so we make shapes, some geometrical like the ones above

I'm craving something real,
something more surreal.
Wanting to get away,
from this ugly summer day.
Missing the fall, and the snow..
isn't that funny, don't you know?

Closing eyes, dreaming of other times.
Wanting to live back in the golden days.
Visioning a quest, something to put me
to the test.

Sparkling waters;
clock birds cuckoo once it strikes twelve.
Life of the moment, coming to an end-
as the birds nests make final amends.

It seems that all life becomes a big blur
When it fades into fuzzy memories
Of old recollections that churn and swirl
In a part of the mind once thought empty.

Faint images seen begin to appear,
Though they were considered misplaced and lost.
This past visioning will soon start to clear,
But unknown is the true price of the cost

Of regaining sight of past experience
Throughout an entire lifetime's worth of
Personal penance and inherent lament,
Addiction for distraction, a love

For misery's indulgence, evilness
Bubbling inside a decrepit heart...
Perhaps the past might have its blurriness,
But I remember so I'm not torn apart.