Thanks for the kind words, glad to know someone out there is reading and enjoying :)
11 Dec 2013 / 0 notes
The windows of the bus are speckled with thousands of tiny rain drops, little streams of water trickle down them like tears escaping the sky. The cityscape in the background shifts and slides, buildings changing perspective as the bus moves slowly over the bridge. The sky is slightly misty and the air has the cool essence of rain wafting through it. As the heat of the day is slowly drowned by the dreamy breeze I am flooded with memories. Thoughts colliding as they are uncovered by the clouds opening up above. Later, the rain itself a memory, I sit at my window, tiny points of light shimmering behind the tallest of the nearby trees. Some days disappear before you have a chance to hold them in your hand, and some are part of the master plan.
8 Dec 2013 / 0 notes
It only takes a moment, to miss someone.
It’s a bit like those seedless watermelons, the seeds are never actually all gone. Thats probably impossible, and who is going around messing with the very fabric of our fruit like that in the first place. How did that start?
We’d sometimes like to think we can carry on with our lives and literally forget all the things that have made us smile, and then later upset us. Just forget them completely and move on without being bothered by a stray memory, or an uninvited thought.
Sometimes when you miss someone, you suddenly miss everyone. Everyone you’ve ever loved, lost or just lost touch with.
It only takes a moment to miss someone. It takes a bloody long time to remove every seed left in a watermelon just for the sake of it. Just to say, there it doesn’t have any, it’s pure, it’s fresh, it’s like new.
Sometimes I’ll take the time to miss people for the sake of it. it only takes a moment, after all.
5 Dec 2013 / 0 notes
Crash, goes the floor beneath. Wheels carrying it forward until lights command them to slow to a halt. Flashes of sunlight show themselves on the corners and edges of things, occasionally pausing with a sustained hot light. Emergency vehicles are parked end to end with a crowd of people surrounding someone lying flat on the asphalt. The scene moves out of view as quickly as it arrived and the journey continues, wheels turning and roads bending. Crash, goes the floor beneath, shadows gliding just below, or just beside. Today’s light begins to dim.
3 Dec 2013 / 0 notes
Walked home underwater today.
Lost thoughts green lit, met me halfway.
The trouble with travelling the same way each day.
Is never knowing quite what to say.
The water rises steadily as each week goes by.
If you can still get through it no one really asks why.
Wrote some music here, down upon the ground.
Converted these lost thoughts into some sound.
Underwater for what seemed like months.
The surface shimmering with light up above.
Perhaps it’s just the way it has to be.
Sometimes we are all submerged, sometimes we are free.
2 Dec 2013 / 0 notes
There’s a little coffee shop, I don’t visit anymore.
There was sugar in my breakfast, there was sugar on the floor.
Farewell caffeine my old friend. A while before we meet again. Withdrawals dark, my mind bends.
I did live before I met Miss C, maybe not as wide eyed or furiously busy as afterwards, but I was alive as far as I can remember.
Perhaps I can live again. Find my way without her. I bite into an apple and remember reading something that claimed apples could wake me up just as effectively as a cup of coffee.
It wasn’t even coffee that was the problem, it was these cans and bottles of sugar wrapped in bright nonsense with just the right hit of addictive chemical caffeine. Just enough to really rattle you and make you think twice about not making a habit of drinking them.
I have never been a fan of holding onto a habit or vice for no good reason. I remember even at a young age being utterly perplexed that my father would not quit smoking. Later in life feeling sadness as he told me he felt he could not quit because he did not have the willpower.
There’s a little sugar stall, I don’t pass by anymore. A friendly little place selling candy from a wall.
Farewell caffeine my old friend. A while before we meet again. Withdrawals dark, my mind bends. Farewell miss C, this is the end.
(One week without caffeine and counting)
7 Nov 2013 / 0 notes
A dream followed me home the other day.
Whispering as I walked along.
Waiting for a moment as I crossed the street.
Flickering as I paused a song.
The day was full of empty stares.
The dream follows me home again tonight.
Wandering beside me as I climb the stairs.
Waiting patiently out of sight.
The night was barely lit and well deserved.
A rush of images bright and torn.
A dream cannot be well observed.
Some dreams are fresh and some are worn.
A dream followed me back to town the next day.
I mumbled as she gave me change.
I had some things I’d like to say.
These awkward moments, sometimes strange.
We dream here, now. A dream that’s loud.
A shared dream amongst the crowd.
Buried moments, underlined.
Borrowed fragments of my mind.
I followed a dream back home to bed.
Edges mending and corners met.
I’d been out all night inside my head.
A joke I don’t entirely get.
The dream is real, the rest is just, a memory begins to rust. The light beyond becoming dim. A lake without a rock to skim.
Awake now, at least it seems that way. Forget the dreams from yesterday. Embedded things etched in my day.
30 Oct 2013 / 1 note
So caught up in this weekday, over budget, short on time.
Then a weekend made of work days, spare a moment, walk and rhyme.
So caught up with my doubts, clawing at me like a test. Quite unnecessary shouts, without sound and without breath.
So caught up in my moods, subtle colours fading fast. Ride some laughter to the bookstore, then read up on my past.
So caught up in decision, indecision at its best. So caught up without traction, no time to see the rest.
So caught up at the chemist, so caught up on the bus. An unfamiliar handshake, the edge begins to rust.
So caught up trusting sorrow, then caught up finding fear.
Too caught up with tomorrow to see whats already here.
Untangle, breathe and write down, something, anything for peace. Till what’s caught you, got you caught up, stops, desists, and cease.
13 Sep 2013 / 0 notes
Walk it off, slow down, wonder why.
Wear it out, spoken words, let them fly.
Hold something, while it’s cold, take a sip.
If in doubt, words held back,
From your lips.
Ever so jaded, until I return, lost in time.
Step between, what we burn, somehow feeling fine.
Catch twenty zero, numbers falling true.
Falling for a moment, fell for one or two.
Have you been feeling jaded?
Jaded by this view.
Taste and sound is faded, remember just a few.
Still I’ll take a minute,
to soothe my soul.
While first world problems take their toll.
Ever so jaded, just for now.
It doesn’t hurt, it isn’t loud.
Ever so jaded, just for you. Get some rest and see it through.
8 Sep 2013 / 0 notes
Ever looked out the window of a bus looking for inspiration for something to write only to see billboards with donuts on them, the words “Customer only car parking” and and endless stream of meaningless traffic, numbers and letters arranged uselessly in almost no order at all, fixed to the front and back of each dull vehicle?
The bus driver is yelling something out his window to a car beside us at the lights, this bus driver does this sort of thing. I can’t be bothered turning my music down enough to hear what he’s going on about.
A bright poster for $2 hot chocolate adorns a passing public telephone box. I catch a glimpse at the line at the post office and ponder whether my bus ride is more tedious.
A newsagent further down the street is completely empty. Surrounded by rotating displays holding seasonal greeting cards and decorated with tiny shards of cut out text suggesting you can win millions.
An enormous tree casting shadow over a park and littering the sidewalk with a blanket of leaves rolls past.
Highlights from the news, barely visible on a dimly lit screen on a pub wall. “Wall of water”“Biting claims” an ad for target then a tiny dog is dragged past by his owner and I am plunged back into the endless traffic.
I keep my eyes peeled for a third tacky seven eleven ad, that has become a game at this stage.
All that’s left is to transfer from my bus to a train and try and avoid being given 3 copies of mX.
This afternoons headline “Hostage Horror”
Delightful, just what I wanted to read.
A few train stations left till I’m home, the day finally running out of boring things for me to read. For full terms, conditions & exclusions visit tpg.com.au.
2 Sep 2013 / 0 notes