Crikey it's Hot!

Australya was covered in heat
So high, that it cooked all the meat -
All the lamb and the pork,
The beef on one's fork;
And even poor old johnny's seat.

Two nights ago, it was so ridiculously hot that sleeping was out of the question. This is the result of that. I apologise profusely.

No Left Feet

Chase the sun
as it descends,
tread lightly o'er
the threads of dusk.
Grasp hold the fleeing
trails of light
and open wide your eyes.

Strathfield Station, 11pm

Fluorescent lights shine coldly
on warm red bricks,
contriving a twilight
where few wander
and fewer linger.

The purple air
clings to a row or two
of less than shiny
steel chairs.
Their transcience is palpable,
their design unwelcome
and begrudging.

An ashphalt gash
inflamed and bulging
scores a wound down the wall,
along the ground
and out of sight.

Time moves audibly,
yet blindly.

Poor neglected train station.

Sunshine, Lollipops and Moonshine

When the moon begins to drop
and turn a pretty pink,
I'll call my Uncle Shanahan
and drown him in the sink.
He'll prob'ly start to yell at me
for making him quite dead,
So I will tie him to a chair
and hit him in the head.

Ridiculous and lame, I know. But good for breaking things up a little.

KL Airport

This soul is silent,
a pre-dawn vista.

Silhouetted trees lay black against
deep blues and deeper greens.


Nothing moves.


A whispered stillness murmers,
hiding both
the creatures of the night
and the wonders of the dawn.

All as yet unmoved.

Yet Still Not Unexpected

I am not the one who was,
I do not fit in these shoes
(They are too small,
they cramp my toes).
She isn't who I am,
But nor am I, it would appear.

They were the bearings on my compass,
Which still points North -
though I've proof of that no longer.

I am, it seems,
In actual fact.
But not.

De-Militarised Zone

No man's land,
Eyes slide.
Perception bends around
that
which cannot be comprehended.
An anti-drug,
buzz-less.
A fluffy white cloud
In a missing sea of blue.
Drifting,
Ode-less.
Grief-less, tear-less,
No less disturbed.

Melbourne Airport

Today's strange thought:
I wonder why
This person I have not talked to,
I do not know
Nor even know about
Is company.
I fear his leaving
Just a little.
Perhaps because he
Smiles to his book
And sits on the floor,
Despite his suit.
 

Tick

Our time is fleeting,
I know it well.
And fleetly yet
It passes by,

Yet I possessing
A sum unknown,
Allow it, passively
to fly.

Sanity, the Penguin

In rose-pink drops, the fragments fall.
The air itself is shattered,
The green-lit sky extends its arms
To those who've been discoloured.

Delusions of a half-crazed mind
Engulf these hands of speech.
Those drapes of blue have fallen too
In Ceremonial
Happy thoughts
of pleasantries
and offices
like matchsticks.

She thinks her brain has been encased
In ugly mouldy yellow.
Watch it grow.

I blame this on the drugs. Okay, so they're just antibiotics. But still.