Naked Heart

Let my clothing fall

And step into the oceans chill

Let my defences down

Welcome my racing heart

Give thanks that I am able, still

.

Ritual acts refine me

Habitual ones define me

Maybe I’ll let you see me

Beneath the skin that binds me

Under my ever-watchful real me

.

Be kind to others always

It’s a motto to live by

And it is easy enough to say

Harder though to play –

Life is, a double edged sword

.

Opening my heart to you

There is nothing harder to do

But your spirit welcomes mine

Allowing light to shine

On my mystical heart sublimed

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Murmur #7 (Dissent)

Since the beginning of democracy,

It has been there.

In the sixties and seventies

We chained ourselves to machines

We protested with slogans –

Make love not war

Ban the bomb

No nukes…

And we grew our hair.

The eighties and nineties came

We shouted it in our music

Punk

Grunge

Techno, and

Rap

We threw away old music conventions

Made it our own and screamed our angst

The two thousands arrived

We whispered

No shouting from rooftops this time

Or from Wall Street windows

Nine eleven.

Terror quietened the murmur

But didn’t stop it.

We spoke softly of it in homes

And workers clubs

And it simmered in our minds

And now the twenty tens

Our phones remind us

Nowhere is free of the murmur.

It’s read by tourists

While sipping cocktails

Served by underpaid indigenous workers

It’s tweeted from exotic locations

Usually only concerned

With cocaine and flesh.

And why is this murmur encouraged?

Because the murmur of dissent

Creates the dissenter

And the dissenter is easily bought.

Once you have enough dissenters

You have the ultimate tool…

Power.

Tanka (Dumb)

let the water flow

so wastefully to the sea

it’s stupidity

you call yourself a vandal…

because it’s cooler than dumb?

Haiku (Future dreams)

sunrise and free time
thoughts travel beyond this day
peace in this moment

Locked Away

Deep,

Deep,

Deep,

Deep

Down inside of me

There is a door, and

It’s locked...

I must have lost the key,

Or did I throw it away?

I know there is something in there. 

I don’t know if it’s pleasant

Or unpleasant.

I’m not spending too much time

Thinking about it...

Or trying to open it. 

For now, I’ll just sweep around it. 

Falling in Love

 

She smelt real nice.

So I put on my real manly voice,

G’day I said

With style and grace.

She looked into my eyes –

My guts liquified,

My palms sweated.

Hello she said,

And smiled a sweet smile

I’ll see forever in my dreams…

I wait every day at that bus stop.

 

Anchovy Paste (some like it)