Sometimes, when she sits on the step, she thinks about places. Places connect us to memories, as does music and scent.
She thinks of the cool water of Nelson Bay and the pretty lighthouse on the hill. This connects her to her sister.
She thinks of the grey days with coffee on every corner, a European feel, and a charm only Melbourne emits. This connects her to her home.
She thinks of young days with a hammer for macadamia nuts and corkscrews for coconut eyes in Mareeba. This connects her to her origins.
All of these memories play behind her eyes, as she looks to the red dirt full of cracks under the Australien sun.
The photo is of the place we hammered macadamia nuts as kids.
She challenges me to
climb her walls and
touch her many places.
I could spend a lifetime
moving and feeling
my way through her soul.
Her wild beauty keeps me
still, as I contemplate
this part of her wild whole.
She is the land, the seas
and the sky, yet I am
the lover of this part of her.
You’re like a drug when
I watch you on the screen.
You make me believe I
could fall in love with a block
of unkempt cheese.
Dude, how did you do it
to yourself and to me?
Unattainable folks with cash
and bad haircuts,
but you’re a bit nonplussed.
My feet tingle as you hold
that piece of plastic in your
hand, but how old are you really?
You’re fucking the cardboard box
of my life with a blunt knife,
but I don’t really care how you do it.
Continue to undress in irony,
or act like your the ultimate corporation as you place your name on every plaque.
Whatever the case, dude, you’ll be using a walker soon and I’ll be wishing I’d said something nice to the lady down the road before she died from a pinprick.
In the quiet of the night,
I hear the whispers faint.
There are created noises,
but there’s the noise of it.
Images of what once was,
but now is something else.
The noises do grow louder,
as my pounding head spills.
Your shadow soul calls,
so I move to your ghost.
In the quiet of the night,
I kiss your corpse lightly.
Hills of green can be seen far and wide, although, down here forever is blind.
The sky is shy today, as he decides that we all need a decent dose of grey without rain.
Winds flow through the castle which once housed our family and our loved hearts.
The sky knows what my heart feels, but he’s always been good at knowing this.
I’ve travelled far and wide to try and escape the pain I feel missing you, but I cannot keep going forever.
The sky tells the rain to hold off. The rain tells the sky to fuck off. How like a married couple these two are in retrospect.
Walking along the Kyle, I know the time nears. How wonderful that after 100 years of your moods, you and I will meet again.
The rain begins to fall. It looks like the rain won that argument. Perhaps I will too.
In the beginning, the world spun out of control. A course through hell would see you stand at 20 on the precipice of destiny. The choice you made was harder still, but the journey would be won. As 40 creeps closer, you look to the future with bright eyes and wise lips.
Pale blue eyes and long curly red hair; a wild beauty.
Sweeter than nougat until she spoke. So sharp and wild, with intelligence to boot, he smiles. He thinks, “Did fate play a hand in this meeting?”
Perhaps he’ll know when they’re older; For now, let’s be young and wild.