The dark encloses me It is bloated and vampiric, just fed And I am a foetal ball of fear Nested in a womb of my own making And from this poverty of light There is no escaping Perhaps there is a tunnel’s end That in my blindness I cannot see But until then The dark encloses me Continue reading The Dark. A poem.
The rain falls And every drop Is a memento A moment of you Remembered And merging Into a pool Of longing That grows By the hour Until the sun Comes out And every Shiny fragment Disappears And like you It’s gone Continue reading Memento. A poem.
This was a submission for a uni course I recently finished, answering a question about Australian copyright law. I included Alpha Girl and Beta Max because copyright law is pretty dry, and I don’t actually say that much about it here. … Continue reading Copyright Means Rent.
How dark the walls That hide our shadows Dancing in the light Of images cast brightly Mapping regions lost And angst so bold To fill sedentary lives With excited sobriety Continue reading Movie. A poem.
My very last breath Suspended and succinct Drawn fatefully in duress Through a lifetime of failure And subdued success A turn of the corner Like a turn in my eye A fitful melancholy Forever present in mind My black dog companion Always here by my side The pall of loneliness More expansive than pride Who is there to remember All the good that I did All gone now, replaced By a requiem of sins And what now of love? In truth, all I needed That unrequited soul To whom my heart seceded This very last breath Perhaps like this will … Continue reading Last Breath. A poem.
Time Is inexorable It marches implacably And bears witness To its end Continue reading End. A poem.
Survivor You seek the truth Perhaps you’ll find it So full of survivor guilt In time your questions Will be answered Survivor You toss and turn at night Reliving all the moments That can’t be changed Will you ever Overcome your pain Survivor Get to your feet Climb back from the brink This is not defeat But a new beginning Only you can choose to be Born again Continue reading Survivor. A poem.
I pushed off the door and bolted to the pantry, glimpsing back briefly to see the flame-haired mistress of the blade standing in the frame as the door swung open and hit the wall. The pantry was bigger than I expected, a central corridor lined with shelves of food products—more like a mini-market than a larder. The old butler was beckoning from a shadowy open space at the end. I ran and dived in. He slammed the door shut behind me. It was black as pitch for a moment, until I heard the click of a zippo and a small … Continue reading The Sale. Part 6. A short story.
Your sins were profligate Rose and fell with the tide But the full moon did wane And the tide it did change You found absolution Nearly drove you insane Arose here in the twilight A much better man Left behind your trespasses Washed away out of sight But reminders remain As they should, of the pain A better man arisen From the tide’s angry refrain Continue reading Tide. A poem.
Do you dance Upon my grave A smile and a tear Washing away the dirt Do you twist Do you turn Arms upraised Do you hate me Do you miss me In a frozen moment Do you dance for you Or for who we were Continue reading Dance. A poem.
This life As much as I hate it Is all I have So suck it up And get on with it Make it a life Worth loving Continue reading This Life. A poem.
I ran. The old butler had a head start into the corridor, but he was shuffling at such an antiquated pace I easily overtook him. I glanced back at the mad woman approaching from the living room, knife flashing in time to each stride. “Where?” I yelled, manically. “The kitchen, sir,” he replied, pointing a gnarled digit to the door opposite. I rushed inside and waited for him to catch up, which he did just as the crazy lady exited the lounge room. “My mother was killed by a vacuum cleaner,” she cried, stabbing the knife into the outside of the … Continue reading The Sale. Part 5. A short story.
These souls have travelled far Worn down to the quick In need of retreads And emotional glue So they can walk Together again Continue reading Souls. A poem.
I saw you again today. You hadn’t changed at all, but of course I shouldn’t have expected you too. After all, it had been but a few weeks, and nobody can be expected to change much in that time. Your … Continue reading The Spell. A short tale.
You were a little thief Who stole my life away With lies and deceits I was the little thief Who turned your life around With misguided conceit Behind our facades We were together as one Just little thieves And now our day is done Continue reading Little Thieves. A poem.
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