Category: Writing
Look Up
Lost, the 21st century matrix
enchants the human drones
with special effects and magical tricks
their eyes glued to their “phones”.
Entangled in hyperreality
they weave a virtual web
closer but further from society
navigating from their bed.
The corporate franchise have cast their spell
they possess all our secrets
they hold the cards, but will never tell
they’ve channelled all the markets.
It’s time for the drones to take some action
awaken from their sleep
break away from the corporate faction
let go of their inner sheep.
The world is outside ready and waiting
there are faces to meet
real human connection is breathtaking
just look up, and see.
What have you been up to since high school?
I’ve been doing that thing called learning.
Every day I have begun again.
My life is like a candle burning.
In the fires, I have found my Zen.
I live in a world filled with anarchy.
I have battled the front lines of darkness.
I have stood with my friends in unity.
I have fought to bring back their sparkle.
I have studied Durkheim, Weber and Jung.
Travelled the world with Mr Bryson.
Found Shakespeare in a crowded room
and Chesterton in darkest London.
I’ve climbed atop Arthurs Seat (Scotland),
and rode a plastic cart down the Great Wall.
I’ve drunk Champagne on the banks of the Seine
and got lost in a Kowloon mall.
I’ve driven along Australian highways
in my beautiful Red Capri,
I’ve swum about Port Phillip Bay
and watched the stars on the drive to Sydney.
I’ve felt the emptiness of waiting rooms
and drunk coffee that tastes like piss
I’ve felt the skies roar with thunderous booms
peace and miracles are my Christmas wish.
I’ve worn different characters and costumes,
they have called me Chum, Alice and Red.
The weirdest one was in a ballroom,
and like Cinderella, I danced and fled.
I have laughed until I’m blinded by tears,
and cried till I couldn’t breath
moments made memories through the years
of my friends, my family and me.
What have I been doing since high school?
Well, simply put, it’s just like this
I’ve been playing the game, learning the rules,
creating memories to reminisce.
Inside an Introvert
Everything has a story,
the who, what, why and where.
I spend my life journaling
and watching them, over there.
Our stories come through music,
through books and on the screen,
they make us laugh out loud
and sometimes even scream.
I’m trying to find my story
but I’ve been locked away by time
I never really grew up
so there’s nothing on this line.
These hazel eyes feel empty,
the tears I’v been holding back
what’s the use in crying?
I don’t know how to react.
Who is this blank person,
glaring back at me?
Is there anything inside her?
I find, I can’t breathe.
I drive the road, unchartered
my past clings to the mirror
I don’t know what is out there
I can’t see what’s in my future.
I see the tree’s sparkle,
and there I find my peace
Crackling bacon and laughter
snug in a winter fleece.
I tell myself I don’t need them
I’m happy driving alone
but all my dreams include them
I think of them as home.
How do I break down this wall?
How do I engage?
I just want to wake up.
I want to be on their page.
This soliloquy could be endless
I could write from dawn to dusk
But the world is outside waiting,
and I have to try, I must.
Unfinished… Unfinished Poem.
Unfinished.
Missing.
My grave stone,
will be etched
in every crevice and nook
nothing will be alone.
Breathless.
Still.
That is my will.
Composed upon a hill
Breathing out my thoughts,
words formed upon Queenstown Hill;
“I am. I am here”.
Diagonal steps
long before the beginning
my road keeps growing.
Moments, I can
say goodbye to past me
just remember to breath.
Benches are made for rest
as I ascend the valley
dodging the boulders.
An iron gate creaks open
I follow ancient steps
in the winter chill.
The road changes
from forest to jagged rocks
the mountains are my compass.
The sun will keep time moving
but forever will wait
it’s just another moment
it’s just another story
it’s just my journey.
NaPoWriMo – 28/30
He closed his eyes
a thunderous start to the year
in an urban fortress
a creekside song
he fell into the electric mist
today cannot wait
the answer is yes
age is like a fine wine
hiding under a wooden chair
note the state of affairs
He was there.
NaPoWriMo – 27/30
Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,
the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?
A network of insomniacs, the lights are always on
from New York to London, and even Taiwan.
I dream of that moment, the holy grail of silence
in the deepest darkest spot of the worlds remotest island
a place where the trees won’t rustle and the winds won’t whistle
where there is absolutely nothing, not even a thistle.
But I know in my heart it will never come true
because no matter where I go, no matter what I do
I will never find a moment of complete and utter peace
when my heart beats so fast, I can hear myself breathe
Even my exhales are noisy, as they pass on out
and the voice in my head just wants to shout
I can feel the thump of my temples against my hand
and the thud of my head when it decides to land.
Have you ever just stopped and noticed that buzzing,
the constant bzzzz and eternal humming?
There is no such thing as silence, not even peace
Just me and you, and you and me.
NaPoWriMo – 26/30
Sing me a song, Red Robin
Tell me the tale
of a man and his quail
that followed the trail
to deliver a snail.
Sing me song, Red Robin
Tell me the story
of the fish called Dory
that partied with Cory
for 5 minutes of glory.
Sing me a song, Red Robin
Tell me the narrative
of the missing adjective
that was comparative
of the alternative.
Sing me a song, Red Robin
Tell me the report
of the pig called Snort
that went to court
for stealing port.
Sing me a song, Red Robin
NaPoWriMo – 25/30
The Huntsman’s name is Death,
his horses’ name is Time
they’re out to catch my breath
at the end of my line.
They wait in the shadows
they watch me at prayer
they blanket me in woe
they simply linger there.
Death and Time are good friends
they are the foes of man
every life they attend
every life they brand.
Inspired by Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Huntsman’


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