Thursday, September 27, 2012

The Ox's Lament

I haven't said a word of truth
in I don't know how long
What thread is use to seal the lips
to quell lamentia's song?

I haven't seen a different view
since glory was a boy
Will acetone clean retina
for the brush of Higg's void?

The ox isn't lost
it's just looking at birds
the dirt turns to dust
but the birds still return
all sparkled with rust
revolution still burns
the ox isn't lost
it's just flying with birds

I've never touch the skin of god
I've never built a ghost

What fossils form the will of man?
What follies forged this vacant land?
What prize received the tasseled beast?
What well to tap for our release?

Saturday, July 7, 2012

P/S

will the winter take me home?
cos i've been skulking round the dawn
if you see the place i'm from
mark it like the cross
mark it like the cross
mark it like the cross
of two kissing trees

the feuds of summer dried my veins
so i build my machines to bring the rain
you see a tempest come my way
hold your breath, swim deep
hold your breath, swim deep
hold your breath, swim deep
to me again

all your tears fall down my walls
begins corrosion of my dharma
and defeat seems deeper
and my humour and my passion
bubble darker
bubble darker

this cavernous vessel
and all its hiding places
but no marrow
this ocean so deep
but still as i lie

precipitation/sorrow


Friday, June 1, 2012

Scratch-guard

I wanna live long ago on frontier peaks before the land was razed
I wanna believe the tomes of the fallowed meek and the glory days
I wanna live like a child
I wanna live like the wild
I wanna wanna sing in the morning

Some people put their faith in religion
Some people put their hope on stars
Me, I know this faithless itching
Will never depart

I wanna live in the snow, where fallen leaves afford the only way
I wanna believe in ghosts of fallen trees and better days
I wanna live like the free
I wanna bathe in the sea of clarity of my history

Some people put their faith in each other
Some people find their dreams in a bar
Me, I know this faithless itching
Was there from the start

Monday, February 6, 2012

Why I Don’t Swim!

The floods came slowly that year.

And we played a masochistic game of ‘What’s the time Mr Wolf’.
We knew that they were coming but when we turned our back
all was still and we ignored the creeping waters.

There had been floods before and lives lost but each new wave brought with it a fresh sense of urgency fresh fear
and a fresh frozen will.

I would often spend the days leading up to the drownings, watching the CALIFORNIA BOYS
and the CALIFORNIA BABES surf the swelling blue ocean

with such a sense of

abandonment.

I was jealous that they had found their Zen amongst the chaos of the water
or maybe they were just acting.




I had always been a decent swimmer.

Some of my favourite early memories are composed of swimming in the indoor
heated Maidevale Pools.
I remember being intoxicated with the chlorine.

Amongst my memorabilia are certificates of achievements from those lessons:
25 meters was a long way for me back then worthy of recognition.

However

my earliest memories of the sea were not so pleasant.

A summer holiday to Rottnest Island On the first day of beachside frivolities
my fair young skin was pounded by the sun
for the rest of the holiday I was imprisoned in our cabin

not being able to sit or lie down for the tennis ball sized
blisters all along my back.

I felt like the Elephant Man.


I have decided that swimming pools make a mockery of the sea.

They capture it. Contain its chaos. Water within becomes poisoned with the regret of being captured in the first place.

However

I have learnt to respect the sea and I garner wisdom from the grace of its eternal movements.

But I never swim within knowing that a rage lies beneath
a fraternal rage
for all its imprisoned comrades.

Waiting for the opportune moment to rise and devour us all.