God will wake thee from rest

No comfort, he won’t

Tis a teasing taunt

Cold death wrapped in sacred deception

Mothers love fading

Stroke of brow

Reach out for remnants fading

edges of place and time

Warm hand touch ice of mine

Become mother to child in helpless reversal

Smooth my brow now mummy gone

Tenderly sing

Slippery darling

Do not cry

Do not cry

Do not cry

I can’t sing my own lullaby

Mother stay … you fade too fast

I grasp at the air

the breathless rasp

Soften my landing

There is no arms

Crush of broken limbs

I hold my own limp hand

And ….





Funky Duds

Favour done

New funky duds

Heart crushed in submissive recognition

New shirt

Presents given

“Oh but it’s for her last birthday”

Father who gives generous morsels

Dangling on a thread

Truly magnificent woman

Complete blindness not one eyed transgression

Next gift making a statement in my home

My home

My home

You have me in yours by default

She has me in yours by default

I dont want you or hers in mine

Mean heart?

Mean mind?

Crush of heart, sadness of mind

Spirit soars in flight like sea eagled majesty

Above the petty heartfelt grievances

Liberation of soul that can never be sullied

While I flail in the mud

Both lived simultaneously

Fucked and sublime

How do you still do this after eons?

I head out


Crush the moment under redback sole

Breath in the solitude


First Generation

Life lived

Life not found

House of work

Gardens joy

The light that dances

in my heart

transfers to nothing

in the light of her exuberance

Her profession

Desire to create, to tell, perform

crushed beneath the voice of the “artist”

Reaching through the fog of domesticity and christian sensibility

No scars, a battle never fought nor won

Vain tapping on the window

Watching the colour of the street

Yearned for … pain and struggle

Recognition for existence, community, food, spirit


Culture of white noise

White goods

White skinned, pale faced,

private school girl

mouth sewn shut

what voice

Voice bleached by the sun

Planted here, watch and yearn


First generation

Selfish wonder

Eyes dancing

Hop and glee


Will this impact me?

Selfish wonder

Heart takes flight

Eight year unfolding

Does he delight

In my feminine allure

Or sees stupidity

Girl to boy

Boy to man

Girl to girl

Woman to man

Man meets woman

Confused sensibility

Heart tenses in anticipated rush

Dare to see this pink cheeked blush

Friendship tentative can it take wing

Trampled idiotic misplaced longing

Support, love, slap on the back

Use the humour, keep on track

Follow the dance, the back-stepping game

My friend I search to find your name

He/She, call me sir

And in my heart that flame does stir

I don’t dare disturb this universe

Yet hope in heart my thoughts rehearse

Be my friend, I need that you see

Let’s stay safe in masked tranquility



desired object

wood grained



grandfathers pride



This thing has no answer

This thing has no retort

This thing is faithful

This thing is mute

This thing is easily controlled

This thing hums to the pressure of his thigh

his foot, the ball and heel

This thing cannot challenge

This thing cannot touch

This thing cannot embrace

In love, full swoon

What is the attraction?

Its beauty is static

It is not unpredictable

It cannot explode in anger

It cannot question motives

It cannot highlight weakness

Never again to feel that complete safety

union of heart, knitting of wound, present joy

Past yearning

Never to feel complete love

It was a lie, a taunt,

Life lived in cold hard, walled resistance

Seems more sweet when comfort vanishes

Lonely pain mocks the hope

that dared not rear its ugly head

Anger that has no victim to rage at

An archer with no target

Arrow pulled back in bow, tense anticipation

Held static, aching tremor, agony but no release

When will the archer rest?

To lower the bow is to admit defeat

To keep it upheld is to hurt, to hurt, to hurt

Sharp vision, hopeful vigilance, cling to pride

To joy, to love

To an immature coldness, a narrow vision,

A very small world.

A very small target, pin-point, all paths merge

Complete release and beauty marks the spot



Easy convenient conclusion …



The roar

wall of water

sweeping all in its path

Drowning destructive determined


swirling debris, trapped and held


tossed, dragged by its hair screaming

Hurled onto banks, discarded on limbs

Boughed, weighed, battered, hurt

Relieved the truth has passed

Sadness wells … screams

This vista can never be the same …

Innocence shattered

Can this scarred lansdcape heal?

Water that nurtures, cleanses, soothes, satisfies thirst

destroys so immediately

No remorse, no apology

Can this place recover?

Can this place of tender beauty

ever regain its innocence?

Marred, used and beaten

Perhaps some tendrils yearning for the light

will take pity on her battered visage

and choose to lift their faces to the sun.

Tarry here …

until she feels safe enough to show her grace

once more.