When I write, I give it like blood
all my emotions like DNA
unique to me
only it can be shared with others
it passes through to the world
I’ll never know if it lives on
a day
a week
a month
a year
…forever
but I won’t stop bleeding my words
I’ll still give away my life
for longer life
for my story
no idea where I was going
where my footsteps were taking me
not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed
I’m running toward something
my faith in a girl next door relationship
built on the stock of only a few summers
we were school break friends and I just had to see this
according to everyone
and everyone was going to be there
that was the promise and with a pinky swear
I was a nervous boy in a foreign land
on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds
speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones
making what would become a beautiful memory
under the bright big moon
along the sparkle-kissed river
surrounded by the sounds of the teenage
on a warm night in August
by the trestle bridge
today, the air was different
I paid attention to the seabirds
watched the tide go all the way out
to my left, a boat hummed away from the harbour
to my right, lost sheep chew green grass into yellow
a car passes by and the people wave
while Jack the black cat sits still on a picket fence
and Patti, the old neighbour strokes the last drop of paint
…against his saltbox home
I am shaken by something I can’t understand
an algorithm of existing in a moment of my life
seeing clear because that life stopped me in my tracks
pushed my breath straight to my lungs
grew my heart for the love of living
filled me with the longing for more
I know now that there is something more to every day
my heart was smothered and my soul blinded
until my spirit had enough and awakened
Another ten paces and I fall again
to my knees
the truth too unbearable
like the scorch of the sun, it will burn hot
no running will get you further away from it
no amount of water could ever cleanse
no sound can drown the songs of deceit
when devils are allowed to dance all around you
their voices are soft, tempting, and following
their gestures a play before only my eye
pull me and push me…my story, my actions, my ending
I’m in a trance and see the world beyond this painful pane
fraternizing with demons and laying proud in the shadows
but the promises I have received still lure me
so for now I will bed the malevolent
and risk the glass being broken
Lying awake in the dares of the night
between the seconds of darkness that it created
anxious, with a pulsing heart
a sweaty grip
gripping tightly so wishing for light
I watch the shadows and silhouettes patrol
alone by vicinity
crowded by bonded blood
the air steals my voice
blankets smother my breath
sounds muffle the familiar
it’s only me now
in a world of living nightmares
it was always only me
this life is a puzzle
with many different pieces
let me throw away the black ones
so something beautiful can be complete
You are a flower
a flower long picked from the garden home
with just today as a reminder of when you began to grow
seasons pass and nothing else seems to want to flourish anymore
your bloom was what kept these old roots alive
now, the rain never comes backs
the sun only hurts
the moon listens, but that’s all
the wind is gone before I know it
not one thing about life is life
in this garden home
without a little flower
In the night
like a ghost
nothing is ever seen
premeditation a superpower
skewing the real, while dancing with the devil
visiting worlds very far apart
the sky in one, a sky
the other could be anywhere envisioned on the spot
in the sweat, in the sins, in the climax
flying close to the sun
is a high like no other
a racing heart is a drug buried deep in the same shadows
but one beam of light and it all goes away
the curtain comes down
no more beautiful horizon
no more escape
One Saturday
an old used-up weekend in my life
back when I was a small boy who took shortcuts home
I remember that Saturday and how golden was the hillside
how the fences cast shadows through blades of long grass
while it danced when the wind played the lead
along the way I ducked clotheslines with flapping white blankets and wool socks
that made dogs bark for no reason
almost home I stopped to take a drink
from a cold stream with those floaty things
a puttering engine in the distance pulled me up for a look
when I do I see a fishing boat breaking the glass harbour
I become lost in the triangle wake of that trail the vessel leads behind
as its crew steams toward their living into the greying eve
while seagulls give chase for little company
it stretches a few seconds for me for some reason
captivates me, holds my breath, takes grip of my soul
until the lighthouse steals away the attention
enough to break my trance
in time to hear the voice of my grandmother who sings my name
through the hills
beckons my return from the adventures of my childhood
it won’t be long now, just cross the torn bush garden and the triangle stone
like I remember…one Saturday
Earth To Ash 