Tag: writing

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.