Monday, November 30, 2009

The Jotter

The scent of the written word is in the Melbourne air,
the writer enhanced by the morning breeze.
Enchanted by the rising sun's glare,
this day's jotting shall be with ease.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The Ghost

Dream colored ghost
Wants me the most
As their host
Like jam married with toast

Friday, November 13, 2009

Little Capsules Of Growth

Flowers on the inside
Make me bleed
Jagged thorns
No food, No water
The rough has life enough
Petals, buds, stems stagger
Roots on the inside
Unable to reach oxygen

Little capsules of growth
Help bloom
From a plastic box
No life exists

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Under The Rubble

Come to me in your darkest hour
I wont leave at the strike of twelve
Things that have left me sour
Inside your mind I'll delve

Please do not attempt to cheer me up
If it makes you feel better
like you do with lemonade and a cup
Write it in a letter

Under the rubble, I'll be
from the dust, ash, fire and mud
Under the rubble, I'll be

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The Squabble (Part One)

The wind howled and swirled. It would not deter him from getting his sun for the day, his dosage of vitamin D. Through the gust it could see him. He intently questioned himself, feeling as small as an elf. Feeling as if his heart was growing nearer to it's storage capacity. A yearning inside, to hitch a ride on a bus, train, tram, car, truck, ute, lorry, station wagon, beatle, horse, bike, tricycle, skateboard. Any kind of transport would send a fear up and down his spinal column and through his nervous system and confuse his brain. Finally quiting the squabble his brain and heart would play. coercing the thinker he yelps aloud

"stop feeling sorry for yourself,
it's not your worry"

Looking through memories his brain plays, rewinding back in time to when he was 3. Panicked and confused. All alone a young boy lost in a weird new world. The supermarket only a few moments ago his oyster, full of games for sale, is now his jail. The exits seem a few miles long and even if he was to run for anyone of them in a mad dash, he would still be stranded. Balls of liquid stream down his face, the aisles close in on him, they form a jungle of pants and shirts. He falls back onto his bottom. Then with no tears left he lets out a whaling cry for help.

The fear is brought to the outside of his aging body. Wrinkled lines filled with perspiration...

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

This Bird's First Day Of Life

Dog defending,
Bird nesting.
Dog barking,
Bird hatching.
Dog attacking,
Bird falling.
Dog biting,
Bird hurting.
Dog retreating,
Bird tweeting.
Dog realising,
Bird recovering.
Dog sleeping,
Bird learning.
Dog watching,
Bird flying.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Fender Funny

A link to a funny bit of the soon to be released film 'Remember Fender'. Documentary film can be un-predictable especially when your subject is famous Video Artist child prodigy Ralph Fender.

From the Fender Team we hope you enjoy

Remember Fender - It's Dangerous