Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Thirty ‘Goodbye’

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day30 #goodbye

While I was deleting old files on my computer I stopped every now and then to read an old document, or glance at a photo of someone I haven’t seen in years.

After a moments pause I deleted each file, memories surfaced, but I dismissed each one. Goodbye.

There were quite a few files. I swear I’d already said goodbye to these memories, these thoughts. I might as well make sure. I search out anything that might have significance, I see faces of people who were once significant. No more. Goodbye.

I find a few files I can’t delete. They are not on my computer, they are just images, sights, sounds and thoughts in my head. Though sometimes it would be nice, I can’t say goodbye to everything.

29 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Nine

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day29 #limerick #gameofthroneslimerick

There was a young king from kings landing.
No respect for those he’s commanding.
His wedding was quite fine.
Till they poisoned his wine.
The way that he died was outstanding.

28 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Eight

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day28 #3togo

Shine, Safe, Blue
Sly blue sign
Choice of mine
Coded design
Between one line
Why so blue?
Shiny, sharpie
Lucky you
Turning sharply
Follow eyes
Tracking, training
Admiring gaze
Heart slow beating
Why so few
Diffusing, counting,
Then there’s you
Bright, confusing
Light and shade
Colour my love
Thought and change
Thunder above
Small blue spot
Space holiday
One blue dot
Is where I’ll stay
Right here on earth
By willpower or pill
Feet grasp the ground
It takes some skill
Mindful games
Keep sick at bay
Mind up in flames
But not today

28 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Seven ‘Page One -Remix’

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth#thedirtythirty #day27 #ifeveryonewas #bestreadwhilelisteningtopageonebylemonjelly

Imagine if you can, what it is like if there were no status updates at all. Nothing. Very few people are able to imagine such a thing, no status updates at all.

Now let us. You and I, try to imagine something one hundred times harder. Not just if there were no status updates at all, but if every status update for a month was a poem. The very beginning of the Poetry Month Apocalypse. Page one. nothing but poetry. The status updates themselves without form. A void. Only an emptiness. Formless. A dark endless waste of poetry.

No living thing no plant or tree no bird or animal.

This is before poetry, before anything at all.

a void, sitting silent, still.

And then.

Poetry Month.

*cue music to go crazy to express just how insane this moment would be*

If all 624 friends I follow on Facebook, all posted a poem every day. In groups, on the timeline, on tumblr, just generally in everyones way.

If everyone, I mean literally everyone. Each day in April was writing a poem. There would be nothing to see but the poetry, Facebooks algorithms would end up broken.

Not just my friends or your friends, everyone. Every soul who has uttered a word. The poems would be so large in number, to read them would just be absurd.

I’m not suggesting it should happen, but lets imagine if it did. The world engulfed in poetry, like a massive spoken-word squid.
If it happened, it would be, a poetry big bang. Our words reaching for the stars in a frantic sprawl of slang.

For now I’m happy with just a couple of my friends here joining in. Keeping up with all the reading, fitting my own posts in.

It’s been a massive month for writing, but I don’t think the world would cope. If every one of us did this all month, it would be a little out of scope.

I invite a few more to join me, next year around this time. Though lets not get too excited, only some of us should rhyme.

*This poem best enjoyed in the context of the following brilliant track by lemon jelly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pn9X0u7xYtg&feature=kp

26 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Six ‘Magic’

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day26 #magic

Well practiced slight of hand made up at least half of the show. The rest made up of secrets only the magician knows.

The reason I watched the show is there’s no better feeling than being fooled. Bamboozled, confounded, mystified and even schooled.

A lifetime of misdirection, onlookers baffled never sure. He’s always practicing and inventing things they’d never seen before.

One of his secrets was the reason he grew up to be a magician. When he was younger, bullies left him in a rather bad condition.

No one ever did again. He became far too fast to catch. Disappearing, reappearing escaping from peril without a scratch.

His journey a response to those early schoolyard rivals. Creativity can flourish as a method of survival.

So this magic, we’re enjoying, has been crafted out of pain. No one knew this, while he fooled us all again and again.

Some magic has no reason, it’s just magic on its own. It’s not inside your wallet and it’s not there on your phone.

Spending time with friends and loved ones, staying up a little late. Forgetting past misfortunes and not knowing what awaits.

Find wisdom in your struggles but also let them go. There’s more to life than lessons, relax and let it show.

26 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Five

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day25 #money #secondperson

(If you had a fortune)

You would spend almost nothing (If you had a fortune) on heaps of pointless little things that you hoped were not forgotten.
At first that’s what you’d do, then you’d have to get creative.

Spending big and spending wide and spendings rising like the tide.
If you had a fortune, you’d spend it on endorphins, you don’t remember what they are but hey isn’t science awesome?

You’d give away all your money, then they’d give some of it back. you’d put it into envelopes, with instructions on the back.
You’d eat a few new meals you’d not yet learned to cook. You’d travel f____ing everywhere, just to take a look.

If you had a fortune, not money, if you had.
If you had an awesome mother, and at least an alright Dad. If you had even one sibling, if you had a rockin friend. If you had these you’d hit fwd, you’d hit reply, and you’d hit send.

You have a fortune all around you, money works along the way, but no amount of money understands what I’m trying to say.
If you had a fortune, it wouldn’t change a thing. Throw some change below a stranger and listen to her sing.

24 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Four

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth

#thedirtythirty #day24 #freewrite #limerick #billmurraypoem #billmurraypoetryslam

There was a fine man named Bill Murray
He once stole a fans bowl of curry
They’ll never believe you
Rides his own kangaroo
He’ll be at the slam don’t you worry

https://www.facebook.com/billmurraypoetryslamaustralia?ref=ts&fref=ts

24 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Three ‘Villanelle’

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day23 #villanelle

I wandered into the darkness again.
It’s the only thing I know is true.
It’s darker now than it was back then.

Close my eyes and count to ten.
Darker from my point of view.
I wandered into the darkness again.

For reasons I cannot explain.
My heart feels like its cut in two.
It’s darker now than it was back then.

Here in the darkness I remain.
The way back known by just a few.
I wandered into the darkness again.

My feet bare as it starts to rain.
A darker place I’m walking through.
It’s darker now than it was back then.

A darkness that I can’t contain.
It happened when I followed you.
I wandered into the darkness again.
It’s darker now than it was back then.

23 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Two ‘A letter’

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty Two

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day22 #lettertoachildenduringwar

Hey,

A friend asked me to write you this letter. I wish I knew what to write. I heard you live somewhere on the brink of destruction.

I can’t begin to understand what you are facing. All I know about it is buried in a few bad memories. When I’ve seen violence up close it has left holes in the world afterwards.

In my case I could walk away from these empty spaces for the most part. Find new locations and hide out around corners until the world felt comfortable again.

From what I hear it won’t be as easy where you are. There are fewer corners left, and the damage being done can be heard through the thickest walls. Sleep may be difficult soon.

Many of us don’t have a choice in what we face. In a better world children would face less violence. And those who survive it will have stronger words to guide those still facing it than mine.

21 Apr 2014 / 0 notes

Poetry Month - The Dirty Thirty - Day Twenty One ‘Winning at Easter’

#dirtythirtypoetrymonth
#thedirtythirty #day21 #culturaltraditions

At least one day of the easter weekend this year was spent with family. I spent Saturday visiting my twin brother and his 8 month old baby. It feels like a lifetime ago that I can remember easter having any significance at all. When I think back that far I am transported to my childhood.

As an adult, I’ve been known to fill my easter weekend with friendly games of Texas Hold’em poker and anything else that might kill the time where nothing much is open.
As a kid, easter was my first taste at bluffing, as if a poker game was going on. The game was to convince your siblings you had eaten your share of the Easter eggs already.

Once they believed you had eaten yours, they would let their guard down and begin to eat theirs. As soon as they had made this mistake the truth would be revealed. You had hidden your eggs and bunnies, not eaten them. Now you were the kid with the most chocolate left. If you could ‘win’ at easter, this was how it was done.

Many years later and hiding chocolate that appears in the house overnight has been replaced with a well timed visit to the supermarket on the day after Easter Sunday to score a few favorites at 50% off.

While I was visiting my brother on Saturday we shared a few small eggs along with some other food. The tiny Crunchie eggs were scattered in amongst the plain chocolate solid eggs, subconsciously I ate more of those ones. My brother making an off hand comment that he’d noticed more of them were going missing than the others. Without realizing I was doing it I placed one of these eggs into the pocket of my jeans, almost as if I didn’t want to get caught taking more of these particular eggs. An action very similar to when I was much younger, hiding chocolate eggs from my siblings to ‘win’ at easter somehow.

I forgot it was there until a little while later when I realised to my horror I now had melted chocolate in my pocket, it had made a mess of my wallet and the plastic that holds my go card. Still trying to ‘win’ a bit more chocolate after all these years. I guess some things about easter just don’t change no matter how old you are.

20 Apr 2014 / 0 notes