And so it is,
I leave the crowded house,
Look up the desert trains but I stay,
Because it will follow,
The spindrift of this cold play.
Must we fall between the concrete lines,
No peaceful space between night and white?
He raped me and it didn't feel like a kiss.
She hit me and left and I made her a pressed flower bookmark.
I tried to cannibalise myself,
Because it was better than perpetual self-hating indulgence
And all rain clouds are opacus,
They're not an option, unless there's a rainbow silver lining
To share on Facebook.
Open heart surgery must be in a darkened theatre,
Yet they fashionably celebrate the Day of the Dead.
Don't describe the restorative slicing open
Just a selfie of the happy and hair-washed, lip-glossed post-op.
No love, no glory.
Turn the other cheek, read bikini news
Cause she's safe. She's an easy whigmaleerie.
You won't need to read your narrative backwards.
But if not us, then who?
I will attempt to write about things that inspire me, get my goat and tickle my fancy, and cross my fingers it doesn't degenerate into one of those diaries I look back on, cringe and want to rip the pages out of. Wish me luck.
Saturday, 27 August 2016
Thursday, 25 August 2016
Saturday, 13 August 2016
Breaking the fall without breaking?
You knew certainty was a farce,
But gripped onto it anyway.
It leaves you gasping, knocks the wind out of you,
When the things you thought were solid
Those closest to your heart
The small things that loomed large as the only things you held true
Disappear in an instant.
You thought the colour blue was the colour of the sky
That 50 metres was the length of the pool
The stars above and the grass between your toes
And then it's not.
You don't think.
You're not sure.
And so then what?
Believe the stories we tell ourselves
Grip them so tight the noose suffocates
And blinds us.
Because what of those told to us?
Tracing true north to block out the periphery
The noise of lies and manipulative half-truths
The small things that loomed large as the only things you held true
Disappear in an instant
You were trekking south this whole time
And so then what?
Believe the stories we tell ourselves
Grip them so tight the noose suffocates
And blinds us.
Because what of those told to us?
Tracing true north to block out the periphery
The noise of lies and manipulative half-truths
The small things that loomed large as the only things you held true
Disappear in an instant
You were trekking south this whole time
And so then what?
Friday, 12 August 2016
The sky has no enemy
Sometimes in a panic, in an emergency, we scream the obvious. 'Fire, fire!'. Or 'Drive faster, drive faster!'.
Those who we are with can already see the raging flames, smell the smoke. But we yell anyway
But what about those who have lost their sense of smell? The blind man who can't see the flames that are about to decimate his home? Children who have never heard a fire alarm and don't know which way they are supposed to run? Kids who are about to pull on the handle of a pot of boiling water? Tourists lured by sparkling blue waters and sunshine who don't understand they are about to wade into stinger or shark infested waters?
Who is screaming at them? Who is saving them?
Every day, multitudes of posts ridiculing Donald Trump, highlighting Pauline Hanson's racism, revealing another environmental tragedy, revealing more statistics on why incarceration and punishment of children is a bad idea, sharing stories of vulnerable asylum seekers trail through my Facebook feed.
I read them.
And often I start the emergency screaming, as do my friends.
'Look at this! Read this! How can this happen??!'
But I've left the blind man vulnerable. And that tourist is about to be stung. That child irreparably scarred.
So what does a fireman, a paramedic, a hospital emergency department team do when disaster strikes?
They identify those most in need of their help, they categorise them, prioritise, and they focus their attention at the hot spots.
We are preaching to the converted.
And not only that, we are ridiculing the fears and aspirations of leaders who are listening to and standing up for the fears of those who are scared and angry. While we think these leaders are creating the divide and drumming up the hate, which they are, we are pushing the divide further. The more we rally against them, the more they rally against us. Them and us. Them, the 'uneducated, conservative, hateful tyrants', us the 'naive, bleeding hearts who have never known hard work or real war, who would rather dine with a terrorist on principle than protect our own children'.
The world is confused.
There is so much information, so many voices, so many opinions, so many threats. And actually we are all pretty similar. We attempt to filter, streamline and categorise all of that in order to make sense of it. We must pick the 'right box' of instructions, detect the bass line and drown it out so we can hear the message in the lyrics.
Because we all have something we're scared of. We all have something we are trying to protect.
Family, liberty, values, our house, land, jobs. Security. Existence.
In May 2015 Facebook released a study about our exposure to ideologically diverse news and opinion on the social media site. It turns out, the site's maligned algorithms filter links according to social algorithms based on our friends, to give you what it thinks your beliefs and interests are, and what it thinks you might want to read. We think we're being bombarded with more information, we think we are making independent decisions on the information we consume to counteract what we are being force-fed by media outlets.
But in fact, the tunnel is closing in.
We follow users with the same opinions as our own, and inevitably, not only do our attitudes not change, we receive a warped view of the world and our previously held views become more steadfast.
It is the same for 'us' as it is for 'them'.
Now, I'm not a fan of Attorney-General George Brandis, but he does make a point about Pauline Hanson: silencing her is a "ludicrous" approach, even if her views on Islam and immigration are "unhelpful and, frankly, wrong".
In a game of chess, would you rather know how to knock out one knight, or have access to your opponents entire game plan: how they think, what their next move will be?
"I have always believed that it is absolutely the wrong idea to try and silence such people, to silence that point of view, because it's a point of view that exists in the community. Half a million people voted for Pauline Hanson or her candidates in the Senate," the Attorney-General said.
"What we have to do is we have to engage her, we have to explain why the views that she expresses about, for example, the Muslim community are unhelpful and frankly wrong."
Opposition is not our enemy. Our attackers are not our enemy.
When faced with a loaded gun, we can pull another weapon out and shoot, or stab. We may obliterate the one pointed at us, but an exponential divide, a hatred, a rallying of more guns will emerge.
Instead understand the callous glare of the gun does not see you, or us, but only what it imagines we represent.
Engage it, question it, understand it, know it.
Only then will the gaping tension dissipate.
Wednesday, 27 July 2016
Falling Dove
FALLING DOVE
Crowded House
All his life
Blown by wildfire
Like a spark
Cause and effect
One loose word
Revolution
One kind act
Whole armies give thanks
Falling dove
Born of ocean
Found by man
Lived on his own
Lift a sail
Tighten the knots
Lift him up
Barely breathing
Falling dove
Do you believe in us
Like I believe in us
Is the outcome ever
Strange enough
You keep defending me
When I’m behaving badly
‘Cause you love me
‘Cause you love me too much
May the best of fortune bless you
Could any creature be unmoved
The humble nature of redemption
The simple act of finding a use
Hoping and almost praying
Believing for a moment it’s true
I make a rendezvous
In Moscow station
A midnight passenger
The café is closed
In St. Petersburg
The door slides open
And I’m a dead man
‘Til I see her walk through
Falling dove
All his life
Blown by wildfire
Like a spark
Cause and effect
One loose word
Revolution
One kind act
Whole armies give thanks
Falling dove
Born of ocean
Found by man
Lived on his own
Lift a sail
Tighten the knots
Lift him up
Barely breathing
Falling dove
Do you believe in us
Like I believe in us
Is the outcome ever
Strange enough
You keep defending me
When I’m behaving badly
‘Cause you love me
‘Cause you love me too much
May the best of fortune bless you
Could any creature be unmoved
The humble nature of redemption
The simple act of finding a use
Hoping and almost praying
Believing for a moment it’s true
I make a rendezvous
In Moscow station
A midnight passenger
The café is closed
In St. Petersburg
The door slides open
And I’m a dead man
‘Til I see her walk through
Falling dove
Thursday, 16 June 2016
The World in Pause
When the turtle's neck peaks back out onto the beach,
to check the tide, if the storm is over;
his relief comes with one long exhale.
He breathes out for as long as he can. One, two, three....thirteen, fourteen...
For even the turtle knows, that the next wash of oxygen will be flooded with memories.
The storm is over.
But his heart is still beating. Himself the same.
And the sea shells he once knew, have been washed away.
Friday, 27 May 2016
Che l'amore è tutto, è tutto ciò che sappiamo dell'amore
I squinted in the night, scared to open my eyes
You were lying there, between my eyelashes
Breathing, really breathing.
If I stay awake,
Stay awake,
How long can I stay awake?
So this dream doesn't end.
Too good to be true
I wrapped my arms around, but not too tight,
If I squeezed you, you might feel me and wake up
And realise
So I just count your heart beats
Take a sharp quiet breath, to bring mine into rhythm with yours
Beat, after beat for hours
Not too loud though
Please don't wake from my dream.
Too good to be true.
Creeping through my veins,
Sunlight in my heart.
If I could just stay here, if you could just stay here
My mind and heart electric
Forever.
I'd say yes to forever.
Wake up, wake up!
You said.
This is real, please open your eyes
We gazed right in.
Our chests filled and overflowed.
I crawled in from the storm,
Straight into your arms.
The morning flooded in.
You closed your eyes. And disappeared
And I was left there with mine.
Wide open. Awake.
Alone.
Too good to be true.
I knew it was too good to be true.
I try to sleep, to find you again.
But recurring dreams are just nightmares.
That's the catch with dreaming.
Just the memory of being lit up
Leaving it darker than before
Too good to be true.
But I'll keep closing my eyes.
Every night the stars come
They are soldered to my soul.
Little hope lights.
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