safe harbour

a tree, far away,
fragile to the forces
of nature
but well grounded.

a lone cannon
maybe
but i've never known
you to shoot off
without good reason.

you do not choose
to live in a box
like others
creating mansions
and cascades
and freefalls all
carefully sculpted
in mountains of paper.
we both love living
in those paper mountains.

so alike
but different
in the detail.

forceful
or forthright?
who cares?

when it's all
stripped bare
between us
inside those paper
mountains, you mine
for diamonds while
i like to harvest
the shadows.

you are wise
council, when
all around me
is in disarray
you float a boat
on my tears.
you are wise council.



for martin.

voodoo doll

i do to the voodoo doll.

i do to the voodoo doll who.
i do to the voodoo doll who is you.
i do to the voodoo doll with pins.
i do to the voodoo doll with pliers
i do to the voodoo doll who is you with pins and pliers.

one hit

you break my heart, and my face,

with one hit, of your fist.
battlefield bed,
homegrown warfare.
terrorism is everywhere.

wallflower, or tightroping on a quiet rage.

fear of chemistry,

electricity
best kept at a distance
measured in empty arms.
looks like laughing/
feels like crying.

unprepared for the

impromptu moment,
too rational
or too damaged
to let a little
spirituality in.

for even in the great unfolding
there are still
mis-understandings
where someone says
‘something’
and nothing is
clear anymore.

for you, at two

this is to you my little mirror gnome, strong and mighty,

unburdened now and chasing a life that

excites you and ignites everyone around you.

you are the seed and the farmer,

you are the beautiful flower,

you are wisdom and discovery,

you are history and the future.

you will learn the language of the seasons,

tie them up with your instincts to carry

lightning in your veins.

you will fall in love with the moon nightly,

not to any prescription or code of honour

but from a faith so deep and mysterious it cannot be named.

on some sundays and during thunderstorms you
will struggle with insomnia, and monthly,
always monthly you will be reminded that

life is a struggle but you are strong.

affirm yourself often.

bang your own drum loudly but listen out to other beats,
they will inspire you.

some days you will be singing in rainbows,

others are nothing but the blues.
celebrate both days with grace.

let the sound of distant buses be a dreaming

of possibilities to take you places.

don't fall for the fast laugh or the quick

friendship, worthy people take time and are

the framework on which to build yourself.

be loyal to your sisters, treat yourselves

with respect then everybody else will.

aim always to be better than yesterday.

dream in architecture, dream in riddles,

dream under sunshine and in the halflight,
dream in truths, dream in solutions,
dream for your own amusement then
dream for the entertainment of the world.

i wish you to speak the profound and run

with wild abandon. i want you to be proud, stake your claim,

hold boldness in your heart and in your hands.

when all around you is madness i want you to

come to me and be your own kind of crazy,

i can say ''i understand''

because we are family.

tribute

the blackbird of unhappiness

lays dead on my feet,

shot with lithium

and other feelgood drugs.

it’s written like a habit

all over your face.

your tunes ride on

the ties that bind

so inspired by crime that

kylie had to die

for nick to hit the mainstream.

i love you like coffee,

you make me so edgy.

you caught me maintaining

my secrets on a leash,

wearing your songs

like wet socks on a dismal day

(ringo starr in the minor key).

because you can feign sadness,

but you can’t pretend togetherness.

so tell me i’m beautiful again

while i play morrissey music

till there is no tomorrow

just you

and me

and his words

killing me softly with a blunt object.

did you ever wake up in the middle of a nightmare?

where a man from the 1950’s has just cooked the barbeque in the great outdoors and is walking the tray piled high with hamburgers over to his all american family who are eagerly awaiting the feast at the picnic table and it’s all fresh and healthy and completely normal and even a little bit sweet until i realise that he is on fire, he is literally engulfed in flames. trying to recover from the shock of what i am witnessing i approach from the north to look across to his family who are also ablaze yet behaving in a serene charade of real life. i look down to realise that i too am on fire. it hurts, sort of, but it’s more just cumbersome when you’re in the middle of the inferno, and noisy, so noisy. i contemplate the pain, or lack thereof that anyone is suffering when i look overhead, up into the trees, where against gravity there are people lying face down and horizontal, looking like a troop of ballet extras or circus folk in their green body paint that camouflages them but not quite until i realise that they are all in the throes of grand mal seizures, they are fitting before my very eyes and i just know that television is the devil. they will be there for eternity, an eternity of fitting. it kinda puts my pain in perspective.