You wonder, why the thunder? What has torn my world asunder?
Don’t feel bad, but it’s sad, and it’s all about my Dad.
He’s fallen sick, it happened quick, and pills won’t do the trick
He’s got his humour, but there’s a rumour, that tests will confirm a tumour
It was a shock, my world did rock, of my life I did take stock
But cruel fate, didn’t wait, to pile dessert upon my plate
Across my path, the aftermath, of an awful blood bath
Two vans collide, kids inside, and everybody died
We drove past, albeit fast, but the images will last
Burnt on my brain, lives lost in vain, a sight of such pain
Everywhere I see, tragedy, loss that wasn’t meant to be
But I don’t cry, though I try, and I often wonder why.
Away from him, my life feels grim, like I’m out on a limb
But I won’t mope, I have hope, and more faith than the pope
He’s strong, he’ll live long, he’ll prove the numbers wrong
He did before, and what’s more, now he has more to live for
It may be, that what drives me, is nought but naivety
But I’d look out of place, could you erase, the smile upon my face
So as I ought, as I was taught, I pick myself up off the court
And resign, to grand design, knowing my Dad will be fine.
Written January 2011, inspired by some of the sforementioned difficult events that were occuring in my life at the time.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
No Reaction
No reaction, distraction, stop the thoughts from gaining traction
All alone, in the zone, you can deal with it on your own
You are strong, but it’s wrong, to let the pain prolong
It’ll spread, all that dread, you can’t run from your head
And you can’t hide, the chasm’s wide, and its pulling you inside
It was fast, but it will last, what you repress from your past
You don’t cry, though you try, and now you wonder why
Are you so callous, in your palace that you don’t drink from the same chalice?
Is there a hole, black as coal, where there is supposed to be a soul?
Look at the skies, close your eyes, strip back all the lies
You are smart, open your heart, deal with it from the start
Let it out, scream and shout, let the tears you’ve held back spout
If you release, it will cease, you will find your inner peace
Find what you feel, that’s what’s real, break your heart from its steel
Turn the key, let it free, embrace your own fragility
Written January 2011 after suffering through a series of difficult events, but being most upset with myself due to my ability to be distracted and not face the issues.
All alone, in the zone, you can deal with it on your own
You are strong, but it’s wrong, to let the pain prolong
It’ll spread, all that dread, you can’t run from your head
And you can’t hide, the chasm’s wide, and its pulling you inside
It was fast, but it will last, what you repress from your past
You don’t cry, though you try, and now you wonder why
Are you so callous, in your palace that you don’t drink from the same chalice?
Is there a hole, black as coal, where there is supposed to be a soul?
Look at the skies, close your eyes, strip back all the lies
You are smart, open your heart, deal with it from the start
Let it out, scream and shout, let the tears you’ve held back spout
If you release, it will cease, you will find your inner peace
Find what you feel, that’s what’s real, break your heart from its steel
Turn the key, let it free, embrace your own fragility
Written January 2011 after suffering through a series of difficult events, but being most upset with myself due to my ability to be distracted and not face the issues.
A New Year’s Revolution
A quick little reflection of the year that was,
Not for any good reason, but just because,
Already I find, it’s hard to remember,
What it was I was doing, this time last December.
I welcomed the year in the usual fashion,
With free-flowing booze and in the throes of passion.
But though I danced my way into two thousand and ten,
And found myself in a similar stupor, again and again,
That really is the only constant to be seen,
In then and now, and the times in between.
Back then I had a job, no, a career,
A relationship, a lifestyle, and nothing to fear.
I rode a bike in secret and lived by the beach,
But there were unfulfilled desires, just out of reach.
So I threw it all in, in the pursuit of adventures,
In the hope of living life, before I wound up in dentures.
I put all my faith in the romantic notion,
That the secret to my happiness; lay over the ocean.
I spent three months in the back of a truck,
Wandering through a continent filed with hope, but no luck.
I experienced a world that most never will,
Had the time of my life, but was unsatisfied still.
You see on a quad in the desert I’d flirted with death,
And once again on white-water, thought I’d breathed my last breath.
I’d spent time with people devoid of possession,
Happier than those with the consumer obsession.
All in all, Africa had helped prove to me,
The importance of life, and its fragility.
So though I’d seen sights that I’ll always remember,
I’d had enough off playing tourist by the end of September.
I returned to the house of my parents’ rule
And focussed my attention on returning to school.
But with marks too low, and aspirations too high,
It proved not to be, but I gave it a try.
Home was full of pilots, and good times galore,
But pretty soon it was time to open the next door.
So it was less than a month before I again boarded a plane,
And headed out into the unknown again.
Then all of a sudden found myself in a place,
Absent of English, or another white face.
Head and shoulders above the man in the street,
And unable to communicate with those that I meet.
Scary? Absolutely. A challenge? For sure.
But isn’t that really what we’re given life for?
So I dusted myself off and surveyed my surround,
And before long was overwhelmed, by the good to be found.
A welcoming people, generous to the last,
That needed my help, and needed it fast.
So before I knew it, I’d swung into action,
Tested the waters and received positive reaction.
I grappled with the language, and found a place to live,
Discovered who I was, and what it is I can give.
I’d believed in the cause, but what really gave me chills,
Was to realise the worth of my strange set of skills.
Already I can see the difference I’ve made,
Which is nothing compared to the plans that I’ve laid.
So as I stare at the dawn of another year,
I shan’t mourn the loss of an unhappy career.
My life as I knew it may well have ended,
Or at least finds that it has, for a time, been suspended.
It’s on a new path that you’ll now find my feet,
An exciting, but admittedly, less-paved street.
Now I hope only to live up to what of myself I expect.
Will I do it? We’ll see, next time I reflect.
Written December 2010 after discussing with a mate just how incredible the last year had been and that some reflection was required for NYE.
Not for any good reason, but just because,
Already I find, it’s hard to remember,
What it was I was doing, this time last December.
I welcomed the year in the usual fashion,
With free-flowing booze and in the throes of passion.
But though I danced my way into two thousand and ten,
And found myself in a similar stupor, again and again,
That really is the only constant to be seen,
In then and now, and the times in between.
Back then I had a job, no, a career,
A relationship, a lifestyle, and nothing to fear.
I rode a bike in secret and lived by the beach,
But there were unfulfilled desires, just out of reach.
So I threw it all in, in the pursuit of adventures,
In the hope of living life, before I wound up in dentures.
I put all my faith in the romantic notion,
That the secret to my happiness; lay over the ocean.
I spent three months in the back of a truck,
Wandering through a continent filed with hope, but no luck.
I experienced a world that most never will,
Had the time of my life, but was unsatisfied still.
You see on a quad in the desert I’d flirted with death,
And once again on white-water, thought I’d breathed my last breath.
I’d spent time with people devoid of possession,
Happier than those with the consumer obsession.
All in all, Africa had helped prove to me,
The importance of life, and its fragility.
So though I’d seen sights that I’ll always remember,
I’d had enough off playing tourist by the end of September.
I returned to the house of my parents’ rule
And focussed my attention on returning to school.
But with marks too low, and aspirations too high,
It proved not to be, but I gave it a try.
Home was full of pilots, and good times galore,
But pretty soon it was time to open the next door.
So it was less than a month before I again boarded a plane,
And headed out into the unknown again.
Then all of a sudden found myself in a place,
Absent of English, or another white face.
Head and shoulders above the man in the street,
And unable to communicate with those that I meet.
Scary? Absolutely. A challenge? For sure.
But isn’t that really what we’re given life for?
So I dusted myself off and surveyed my surround,
And before long was overwhelmed, by the good to be found.
A welcoming people, generous to the last,
That needed my help, and needed it fast.
So before I knew it, I’d swung into action,
Tested the waters and received positive reaction.
I grappled with the language, and found a place to live,
Discovered who I was, and what it is I can give.
I’d believed in the cause, but what really gave me chills,
Was to realise the worth of my strange set of skills.
Already I can see the difference I’ve made,
Which is nothing compared to the plans that I’ve laid.
So as I stare at the dawn of another year,
I shan’t mourn the loss of an unhappy career.
My life as I knew it may well have ended,
Or at least finds that it has, for a time, been suspended.
It’s on a new path that you’ll now find my feet,
An exciting, but admittedly, less-paved street.
Now I hope only to live up to what of myself I expect.
Will I do it? We’ll see, next time I reflect.
Written December 2010 after discussing with a mate just how incredible the last year had been and that some reflection was required for NYE.
A Christmas Carroll
T’was the night before Christmas but the house is alive,
Jules is running the show, knows when you’re due to arrive.
Welcomed at the door with a glass and a hug,
The laughter’s infectious, the joy like a drug.
She’s been planning this Christmas for twenty-odd years,
There’s food for an army, and we won’t run out of beers.
The house has been painted, the drive, well swept
Jules has been management while Allan has schlepped.
The boys have flown in, and are temporary borders,
On arrival at the airport they were given their orders.
And now the family’s all made it, at least those that could
And Santa’s expected, though no one’s been good.
So now it’s time for the real fun to begin
There’s the food, there’s the drink, looks amazing, tuck in.
Don’t worry about manners; it’s a family affair,
Kick off your shoes, get comfy, let down your hair.
Christmas has a lot of meanings, to all different people,
But whether you’re at home, or under the steeple,
It’s important to take time, reflect, and remember,
That it’s all about family, this day in December.
So to all Carrolls, both here and out of sight
A Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
Written December 2010 as a Christmas present for my mum for her long-awaited family reunion christmas
Jules is running the show, knows when you’re due to arrive.
Welcomed at the door with a glass and a hug,
The laughter’s infectious, the joy like a drug.
She’s been planning this Christmas for twenty-odd years,
There’s food for an army, and we won’t run out of beers.
The house has been painted, the drive, well swept
Jules has been management while Allan has schlepped.
The boys have flown in, and are temporary borders,
On arrival at the airport they were given their orders.
And now the family’s all made it, at least those that could
And Santa’s expected, though no one’s been good.
So now it’s time for the real fun to begin
There’s the food, there’s the drink, looks amazing, tuck in.
Don’t worry about manners; it’s a family affair,
Kick off your shoes, get comfy, let down your hair.
Christmas has a lot of meanings, to all different people,
But whether you’re at home, or under the steeple,
It’s important to take time, reflect, and remember,
That it’s all about family, this day in December.
So to all Carrolls, both here and out of sight
A Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
Written December 2010 as a Christmas present for my mum for her long-awaited family reunion christmas
Monday, October 18, 2010
HIV Not Positive
So far nothing has quite saddened me
As much as seeing a child born into HIV
Beautiful kids not given a chance
Because of their parents’ poisoned romance
Their dice are all loaded, from day one
Either the energy to survive, or to have fun
Too weak to play football, too sick to learn
Disease and infection around every turn
And if by some miracle they manage to live
Then to their partner the disease they’ll give
And before long another child will be born
Another innocent being with a life to mourn
Written July 2010, after a visit to a slum in Kampala, and a day spent therein.
As much as seeing a child born into HIV
Beautiful kids not given a chance
Because of their parents’ poisoned romance
Their dice are all loaded, from day one
Either the energy to survive, or to have fun
Too weak to play football, too sick to learn
Disease and infection around every turn
And if by some miracle they manage to live
Then to their partner the disease they’ll give
And before long another child will be born
Another innocent being with a life to mourn
Written July 2010, after a visit to a slum in Kampala, and a day spent therein.
Manimals?
In this history of ours there’s many a black date
Unspeakable violence fuelled by hate
The reasons differ but the result is the same
Ordinary people kill, torture and maim
So what really happens, what goes on inside?
When the man on the street commits genocide
Is he following orders as so many claim
Acting out the will of a notorious name
Is he swept up in the fervour, a believer in the cause?
Acting on impulse in a land without laws
Or is there something more sinister that lurks within
Are we really just savages under the skin?
Given free reign, how would you behave?
Action without consequence, no society to enslave
Would you rape and murder, pillage and steal?
And if you did, how would it make you feel?
With no rule of law there’s no punishment of course
But is it human or societal to feel remorse?
If you can justify the way that you act
And live with yourself after the fact
Then is that all we are, animals walking tall
Looking for an excuse, any at all
To escape out of society’s cage
And put another black mark on history’s page
Written July 2010, after a day in the Rwandan genocide museum, but inspired by a number of visits to previous sights of genocide the world over, and the frustration associated.
Unspeakable violence fuelled by hate
The reasons differ but the result is the same
Ordinary people kill, torture and maim
So what really happens, what goes on inside?
When the man on the street commits genocide
Is he following orders as so many claim
Acting out the will of a notorious name
Is he swept up in the fervour, a believer in the cause?
Acting on impulse in a land without laws
Or is there something more sinister that lurks within
Are we really just savages under the skin?
Given free reign, how would you behave?
Action without consequence, no society to enslave
Would you rape and murder, pillage and steal?
And if you did, how would it make you feel?
With no rule of law there’s no punishment of course
But is it human or societal to feel remorse?
If you can justify the way that you act
And live with yourself after the fact
Then is that all we are, animals walking tall
Looking for an excuse, any at all
To escape out of society’s cage
And put another black mark on history’s page
Written July 2010, after a day in the Rwandan genocide museum, but inspired by a number of visits to previous sights of genocide the world over, and the frustration associated.
Techno Travel
There is no greater example of modern luxury
Then this strange dependence on technology
To travel to a place, regardless how poor
Requires a swag of gadgetry galore
Camera and kindle, ipod and phone
Do you think I can leave my laptop at home?
Memory cards and sticks, even a hard drive
Without these with me I just couldn’t survive
It goes without saying that there must also be
A fast internet connection and electricity
A thing’s not worth doing if it’s not going to look
Good on my twitter, flikr or facebook.
Sometimes I have to remind myself to sit and just be
To let the place I’m in well up and absorb me
I’m here to learn, in each place I visit
So I’d better disconnect or I’ll bloody well miss it!
Written July 2010, amazed at the divide between the technology of tourists vs the locals in rural Africa.
Then this strange dependence on technology
To travel to a place, regardless how poor
Requires a swag of gadgetry galore
Camera and kindle, ipod and phone
Do you think I can leave my laptop at home?
Memory cards and sticks, even a hard drive
Without these with me I just couldn’t survive
It goes without saying that there must also be
A fast internet connection and electricity
A thing’s not worth doing if it’s not going to look
Good on my twitter, flikr or facebook.
Sometimes I have to remind myself to sit and just be
To let the place I’m in well up and absorb me
I’m here to learn, in each place I visit
So I’d better disconnect or I’ll bloody well miss it!
Written July 2010, amazed at the divide between the technology of tourists vs the locals in rural Africa.
Consump-etition
We are a society defined by possession
Where ownership’s not just the law, but obsession
Brand names give status, gadgets, jealousy
Debt is its own fashion accessory
Money’s taken for granted in the need to express
Your superiority over those who have less
Keeping up with the Jones’ is just the beginning
If you’re not the envy of the town then you’re just not winning
Yet so many people with so little to their name
A life without luxury, but a life all the same
It really makes you wonder just how much you need
And what proportion of the rest, is really just greed
It’s a cruel game, this lottery of birth
That location alone determines your net worth
You don’t earn the right to do as you please
Rather you inherit a life of comparative ease
Why should I have been so lucky, born into wealth
Money, opportunity, love and my health
Surely with great fortune comes responsibility
To do more than just consume at every opportunity
Written July 2010, while travelling through Uganda, Rwanda and Kenya and observing the wealth divide.
Where ownership’s not just the law, but obsession
Brand names give status, gadgets, jealousy
Debt is its own fashion accessory
Money’s taken for granted in the need to express
Your superiority over those who have less
Keeping up with the Jones’ is just the beginning
If you’re not the envy of the town then you’re just not winning
Yet so many people with so little to their name
A life without luxury, but a life all the same
It really makes you wonder just how much you need
And what proportion of the rest, is really just greed
It’s a cruel game, this lottery of birth
That location alone determines your net worth
You don’t earn the right to do as you please
Rather you inherit a life of comparative ease
Why should I have been so lucky, born into wealth
Money, opportunity, love and my health
Surely with great fortune comes responsibility
To do more than just consume at every opportunity
Written July 2010, while travelling through Uganda, Rwanda and Kenya and observing the wealth divide.
Source of Wander
Sometimes you just fall in love with a place
Be it buildings, a people or a natural space
It’s hard to describe the source of appeal
It’s less an aesthetic than how it makes you feel
In Tibet there was a cliff above the Puncheon’s palace
In Cambodia, a people, wronged but without malice
Morocco had the desert and the camp therein
Croatia, an island, not without sin
The Thai’s gave me an escape and an awful tattoo
Israel taught me respect, and what was taboo
Egypt had grandeur, like I’d never seen
Each offered something new, these places I’ve been
But sitting in Uganda, overlooking the Nile
Beer in my hand, I can’t help but smile
Is this the way that my die has been cast?
To keep stumbling upon places more impressive than the last?
Written July 2010, on the banks of the Nile in Uganda, loving life and to be back on the road!
Be it buildings, a people or a natural space
It’s hard to describe the source of appeal
It’s less an aesthetic than how it makes you feel
In Tibet there was a cliff above the Puncheon’s palace
In Cambodia, a people, wronged but without malice
Morocco had the desert and the camp therein
Croatia, an island, not without sin
The Thai’s gave me an escape and an awful tattoo
Israel taught me respect, and what was taboo
Egypt had grandeur, like I’d never seen
Each offered something new, these places I’ve been
But sitting in Uganda, overlooking the Nile
Beer in my hand, I can’t help but smile
Is this the way that my die has been cast?
To keep stumbling upon places more impressive than the last?
Written July 2010, on the banks of the Nile in Uganda, loving life and to be back on the road!
No Place Like Home
Although with heavy heart, you were departed
No time to mourn, once the adventure got started
Realise what it is that I have left behind
Pay my respects, am not unkind.
Not sure why I don’t feel more upset
Maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet
Loved what we had, what I know I have left
But don’t feel the loss, am in no way bereft.
There is no ache in the pit of my core
None of the longing I thought was in store
I know I’m distracted, and maybe that’s it
But surely it should hurt, even a bit.
I think in my head I knew it was right
To call it a day when I got on that flight
We shared something special, but we’d run our race
It was time for a new life...in a new place.
Goodbye Oz
Written in July 2010, after leaving home for what I figured was going to be a while.
No time to mourn, once the adventure got started
Realise what it is that I have left behind
Pay my respects, am not unkind.
Not sure why I don’t feel more upset
Maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet
Loved what we had, what I know I have left
But don’t feel the loss, am in no way bereft.
There is no ache in the pit of my core
None of the longing I thought was in store
I know I’m distracted, and maybe that’s it
But surely it should hurt, even a bit.
I think in my head I knew it was right
To call it a day when I got on that flight
We shared something special, but we’d run our race
It was time for a new life...in a new place.
Goodbye Oz
Written in July 2010, after leaving home for what I figured was going to be a while.
Andy’s Gone with Cattle by Henry Lawson
Our Andy’s gone to battle now
‘gainst drought, the red marauder:
Our Andy’s gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.
He’s left us in dejection now;
Our thoughts with him are roving;
It’s dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.
Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?
Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the darling.
Poor Aunty’s looking thin and white;
And Uncle’s cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.
Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the banks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover.
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant ‘twill bring us Andy.
Not mine, but wow, what a beautiful Australian poem, discovered and given to me by my mum.
‘gainst drought, the red marauder:
Our Andy’s gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.
He’s left us in dejection now;
Our thoughts with him are roving;
It’s dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.
Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?
Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the darling.
Poor Aunty’s looking thin and white;
And Uncle’s cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.
Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the banks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover.
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant ‘twill bring us Andy.
Not mine, but wow, what a beautiful Australian poem, discovered and given to me by my mum.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
5 Min Nap
Light of wallet and even lighter of heart
Three Asian bankers in an adventure took part
Each had a skill which he brought to the table
Something he excelled at, that the others weren't able
Vic could sleep, anywhere and anytime
Had a penchant for cheese, but struggled to rhyme
Pete liked to fart and board the odd luxury yacht
Even if his mates, he sometimes forgot
Yao Ming was tall, but his gift was his snore
He could rattle any hostel room, right to its core
They each had different favs, of the places they went
But agreed the Croatian girls were the ones heaven sent
None knew what was next to do or to see
They were all just so happy, not to be at DB
Written Aug 2009, just discovered this poem on the back of a plane ticket. Was written while travelling with two mates, during a mandatory 5 min nap break (Thanks Vic).
Three Asian bankers in an adventure took part
Each had a skill which he brought to the table
Something he excelled at, that the others weren't able
Vic could sleep, anywhere and anytime
Had a penchant for cheese, but struggled to rhyme
Pete liked to fart and board the odd luxury yacht
Even if his mates, he sometimes forgot
Yao Ming was tall, but his gift was his snore
He could rattle any hostel room, right to its core
They each had different favs, of the places they went
But agreed the Croatian girls were the ones heaven sent
None knew what was next to do or to see
They were all just so happy, not to be at DB
Written Aug 2009, just discovered this poem on the back of a plane ticket. Was written while travelling with two mates, during a mandatory 5 min nap break (Thanks Vic).
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Decepti-con: More than meets the eye
Sometimes I'm surprised by what lies inside
The part of people that they choose to hide
At first, just lovely, a pleasure to meet
Underneath deception, lies and deceit
What drives a person to acts of such callous?
Were they hurt themselves, what's the source of this malice?
Do they secretly rage after some injustice past?
It must have been truly awful for its mark to last
Although shocked when you first see it in force
Thinking back you realise there were signs, of course
Promises broken, smoothed over with lies
Little untruths uttered in front of your eyes
Seemingly harmless, you fail to seize
These are just symptoms of a greater disease
A beast, fed by evil, lying under the surface
Dormant until awoken, fuelled with a purpose
Unmasked and exposed in the harsh light of day
Hell bent on nothing but getting its way
Unashamed by its ugliness or the fork of it tongue
Its wrath rages fiercely until the damage is done
Standing alone, in a wake of destruction
The beast retreats waiting for further instruction
Parasitic in nature, it feeds off the hate
Binding with its host, they share a similar fate
Each time it emerges the monster gets stronger
The damage a little worse, the duration a little longer
And before you know it the person is gone
It was the beast, not the host that was there all along.
Written in Oct 2009, during a dispute with an ex-housemate, who proved herself duplicitous beyond any of our imaginations.
The part of people that they choose to hide
At first, just lovely, a pleasure to meet
Underneath deception, lies and deceit
What drives a person to acts of such callous?
Were they hurt themselves, what's the source of this malice?
Do they secretly rage after some injustice past?
It must have been truly awful for its mark to last
Although shocked when you first see it in force
Thinking back you realise there were signs, of course
Promises broken, smoothed over with lies
Little untruths uttered in front of your eyes
Seemingly harmless, you fail to seize
These are just symptoms of a greater disease
A beast, fed by evil, lying under the surface
Dormant until awoken, fuelled with a purpose
Unmasked and exposed in the harsh light of day
Hell bent on nothing but getting its way
Unashamed by its ugliness or the fork of it tongue
Its wrath rages fiercely until the damage is done
Standing alone, in a wake of destruction
The beast retreats waiting for further instruction
Parasitic in nature, it feeds off the hate
Binding with its host, they share a similar fate
Each time it emerges the monster gets stronger
The damage a little worse, the duration a little longer
And before you know it the person is gone
It was the beast, not the host that was there all along.
Written in Oct 2009, during a dispute with an ex-housemate, who proved herself duplicitous beyond any of our imaginations.
Living the Dream
Insatiable for adventure with a thirst that can’t be quenched
He's wallowed in the pool of life and come away drenched
Never able to sit still, or even slow down
Hungry for a new life, in a foreign town
Determined not to be, just like all the rest
Trying all the paths to see which one suits him best
Laughing to himself at those who choose to settle
Why be on the road if your pedals not to the metal?
He only gets one shot at this, so he'll make sure he does it right
Live and love and play and dream, make peace and start a fight.
He has his whole life, to live the aussie dream
but not before he's had the chance to blow off a little steam
How can he give himself to someone else for life
If he's barely old enough to know himself, let alone a wife?
He'll be drawn to those with vision, who protect the lower class
And shun those more focussed on their own wealthy ass.
This will change in time, inevitable as kids and tax,
But he'll enjoy it while he can, take some time to relax
The secret to a life, lived without regret
Is to follow his dreams, and not the safe bet.
Written July 09, while my friends are looking at apartments and marriages and I am giving in to the travel bug again.
He's wallowed in the pool of life and come away drenched
Never able to sit still, or even slow down
Hungry for a new life, in a foreign town
Determined not to be, just like all the rest
Trying all the paths to see which one suits him best
Laughing to himself at those who choose to settle
Why be on the road if your pedals not to the metal?
He only gets one shot at this, so he'll make sure he does it right
Live and love and play and dream, make peace and start a fight.
He has his whole life, to live the aussie dream
but not before he's had the chance to blow off a little steam
How can he give himself to someone else for life
If he's barely old enough to know himself, let alone a wife?
He'll be drawn to those with vision, who protect the lower class
And shun those more focussed on their own wealthy ass.
This will change in time, inevitable as kids and tax,
But he'll enjoy it while he can, take some time to relax
The secret to a life, lived without regret
Is to follow his dreams, and not the safe bet.
Written July 09, while my friends are looking at apartments and marriages and I am giving in to the travel bug again.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
War and Peace
War
There have been certain similarites in girlfriends of old,
a smallness of stature has been common I'm told.
Clever, opinionated and strong-willed women,
with a personality larger than the height they've been given.
However when two strong people find common passion,
it seems they clash in the most extraordinary fashion.
Battles rage fiercly, without subject essential,
two losers and the outcome inconsequential.
Arguments purely for arguments sake,
stubborness and principal defining your stake.
Pushing the boundaries, in a way, immature,
mind games dreamt up, by the insecure.
But when the armistace is declared, the end of the war,
and you're two exhausted casualties, exposed and raw,
that very same passion that fuelled the madness,
lights up the room, replaces the sadness.
You quickly forget the collateral damage,
that's behind you now, you survived it, you'll manage.
Closer, all thanks to those "minor" spars,
two souls entiwned by their battle scars.
But when the foundation of peace is a delicate truce,
it only takes boredom or a similar excuse,
for the beast lying dormant, so close to the surface
to rear its ugly head, always with the same purpose.
To re-enact the same play, no matter the stage,
tell the same story, page for page,
sing the same song, with different word,
let the bee loose, against the bird...
Peace
There’s a little girl I know, who’s a little fond of me
She’s cute, kind, and considerate, and as clever as can be.
She knows everything about me, all the good and the bad
and listens tirelessly to every thought I’ve ever had.
I can’t fathom a reason, as to why we’d ever fight
It never seems to matter, who is wrong or right.
It should be ideal, she even puts up with my snoring
So why am I so terrified of simply being boring???
Written July 09, an exploration of my tendancy of old to fight with the people I love, and coming to terms with the equally beautiful and scary alternative.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Understudy
It takes mere minutes for the eyes to tire
Each page dwindling enthusiasm's fire
Woke up this morning committed to the plan
Until distraction set in and procrastination began
Have counted the pages, time and again,
Yet not getting any closer, to the chapter's end
Read it all before, but the mind's a clean slate
It’s a foregone conclusion, left my run too late
Read the same sentence, till my visions blurs out
And still couldn't say what the chapter's about
Awake with a start, unaware I had slept
Hours have passed, my approach is inept
Fear kicks in, and brings adrenalin along
The mist parts an inch, suddenly focus is strong
A sliver of light penetrates the dark in my head
It’s all flooding back, words previously read.
Grasping this new development as if life relies
On absorbing every word in front of my eyes
Its mere hours until I'll be put to the test,
The goal is just to get through, know it won't be my best.
It’s amazing how many times I've been here before
Know starting earlier would have trebled my score
But it’s only under pressure that the fire can ignite
Each performance a result of the previous night
Sure I could have done better than rest on my laurels
Not relinquished to temptation, of both mind and morals
But it’s too late now for a false resolution
Time to pray for a question with a familiar solution....
Written May 09, in an attempt to find any distraction while I was supposed to be studyin (obviously) for my CFA.
Each page dwindling enthusiasm's fire
Woke up this morning committed to the plan
Until distraction set in and procrastination began
Have counted the pages, time and again,
Yet not getting any closer, to the chapter's end
Read it all before, but the mind's a clean slate
It’s a foregone conclusion, left my run too late
Read the same sentence, till my visions blurs out
And still couldn't say what the chapter's about
Awake with a start, unaware I had slept
Hours have passed, my approach is inept
Fear kicks in, and brings adrenalin along
The mist parts an inch, suddenly focus is strong
A sliver of light penetrates the dark in my head
It’s all flooding back, words previously read.
Grasping this new development as if life relies
On absorbing every word in front of my eyes
Its mere hours until I'll be put to the test,
The goal is just to get through, know it won't be my best.
It’s amazing how many times I've been here before
Know starting earlier would have trebled my score
But it’s only under pressure that the fire can ignite
Each performance a result of the previous night
Sure I could have done better than rest on my laurels
Not relinquished to temptation, of both mind and morals
But it’s too late now for a false resolution
Time to pray for a question with a familiar solution....
Written May 09, in an attempt to find any distraction while I was supposed to be studyin (obviously) for my CFA.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Ridin'
He climbs aboard and puts his key in the ignition,
at first a gentle gasp but then she's purring like a kitten
He clutches her tight as they shift up through the gears
the changes smooth, both relaxed, a comfort borne of years
Even though he is loaded heavy with protection
it fails to hamper the pleasure of their connection
He shifts his weight at each bend to suit the terrain
she shifts hers, to find pleasure and avoid the pain
He gazes into her dials to judge their power and their speed
in this dance, of romance, it is clear who has the lead.
Although he is the rider it is she who has control
she moans to let him know, he reacts, and on they roll.
They maneuvre through the traffic, as one,
addicted to the danger and the fun.
The world is just a blur, racing past
how long, on the edge, can they last?
The final hill and he shifts up, towards the peak,
she holds on, for a while, and then goes weak,
slowly they come back down the other side
both exhausted from the thrill of the ride
It is a union borne of mutual appreciation
the journey as important as the destination.
Each alone would be simply standing idle
together, a hidden passion, they unbridle
Written April 2009, about the thrill of riding a motorcycle... or is it?
at first a gentle gasp but then she's purring like a kitten
He clutches her tight as they shift up through the gears
the changes smooth, both relaxed, a comfort borne of years
Even though he is loaded heavy with protection
it fails to hamper the pleasure of their connection
He shifts his weight at each bend to suit the terrain
she shifts hers, to find pleasure and avoid the pain
He gazes into her dials to judge their power and their speed
in this dance, of romance, it is clear who has the lead.
Although he is the rider it is she who has control
she moans to let him know, he reacts, and on they roll.
They maneuvre through the traffic, as one,
addicted to the danger and the fun.
The world is just a blur, racing past
how long, on the edge, can they last?
The final hill and he shifts up, towards the peak,
she holds on, for a while, and then goes weak,
slowly they come back down the other side
both exhausted from the thrill of the ride
It is a union borne of mutual appreciation
the journey as important as the destination.
Each alone would be simply standing idle
together, a hidden passion, they unbridle
Written April 2009, about the thrill of riding a motorcycle... or is it?
Saturday, April 4, 2009
A Fool’s Hope
An optimist, a charmer, trapped in a world of undeniable lunacy
I skip, and then crawl, through a land where everything is obvious but nothing makes sense
I question the ways of the world
But the deeper I delve the more lost I become
My mind often escapes me; it tries momentarily to follow the voice of reason
But when it returns I can only battle to remember the lessons learnt
I love, I hurt and I enjoy with unrivalled passion
My smile is my best friend, and my only saviour in those moments of terrible uncertainty
I am articulate yet dumb, unable to express the feelings that haunt me day and night
And it is always ALWAYS to my detriment
I frustrate everyone around me, and it is the ones closest to me that I hurt most
Beware the curse of my love, I will always injure through my ignorance
To be able to express myself would be to find infinite fulfilment
But the trail of broken hearts suggests that this is a futile quest
Run when you hear the big friendly giant’s footsteps in the hall
A revelation has been made; the prince of darkness is a mute.
Alas cry for me not, this alien needs no sympathy
My happiness is by no means a façade; it is my way of life
A great burden has been lifted from the shoulders of one equally great in stature
And the sweetness of revelation and relief cloud my senses
I shall live, shall love, and shall endure
I will always regret the blades of my flaws, and the damage they have dealt
I am grateful that I was able to feel the power of uncomplicated ecstasy
If only for a short period of time
I would have loved to have wallowed longer in that pool of pleasure
But I can only blame myself for my demise
I am ashamed of myself, and that I have corrupted the greatest feeling I ever dared to call my own
I will always miss the warmth of her feelings and the beauty of her smile
My good fortunes to the man who can compensate where I fall short
Words fail to describe the bliss your future holds
Return her love as I could not, and give her the happiness she deserves
Think of me in passing, as the disastrous precedent, have a laugh at my expense.
The trials and tribulations of a hopeless romantic
A man more lost for words then any that’ve come before him
He who is foolish enough to part with the greatest gift of all
And he who will, to all but his own conscious, seem ignorant of such a loss
The happiest man that ever there was and the only man in history to take pride in his coxcomb!
Written May 2002, a desperate attempt to stop my first gf from breaking up with me due to my horrible inability to express my feelings. It worked, and we dated for a couple years. Have always thought of this as the first poem I wrote for pleasure, and the turning point in the relationship. A large part of my the reason I write today.
I skip, and then crawl, through a land where everything is obvious but nothing makes sense
I question the ways of the world
But the deeper I delve the more lost I become
My mind often escapes me; it tries momentarily to follow the voice of reason
But when it returns I can only battle to remember the lessons learnt
I love, I hurt and I enjoy with unrivalled passion
My smile is my best friend, and my only saviour in those moments of terrible uncertainty
I am articulate yet dumb, unable to express the feelings that haunt me day and night
And it is always ALWAYS to my detriment
I frustrate everyone around me, and it is the ones closest to me that I hurt most
Beware the curse of my love, I will always injure through my ignorance
To be able to express myself would be to find infinite fulfilment
But the trail of broken hearts suggests that this is a futile quest
Run when you hear the big friendly giant’s footsteps in the hall
A revelation has been made; the prince of darkness is a mute.
Alas cry for me not, this alien needs no sympathy
My happiness is by no means a façade; it is my way of life
A great burden has been lifted from the shoulders of one equally great in stature
And the sweetness of revelation and relief cloud my senses
I shall live, shall love, and shall endure
I will always regret the blades of my flaws, and the damage they have dealt
I am grateful that I was able to feel the power of uncomplicated ecstasy
If only for a short period of time
I would have loved to have wallowed longer in that pool of pleasure
But I can only blame myself for my demise
I am ashamed of myself, and that I have corrupted the greatest feeling I ever dared to call my own
I will always miss the warmth of her feelings and the beauty of her smile
My good fortunes to the man who can compensate where I fall short
Words fail to describe the bliss your future holds
Return her love as I could not, and give her the happiness she deserves
Think of me in passing, as the disastrous precedent, have a laugh at my expense.
The trials and tribulations of a hopeless romantic
A man more lost for words then any that’ve come before him
He who is foolish enough to part with the greatest gift of all
And he who will, to all but his own conscious, seem ignorant of such a loss
The happiest man that ever there was and the only man in history to take pride in his coxcomb!
Written May 2002, a desperate attempt to stop my first gf from breaking up with me due to my horrible inability to express my feelings. It worked, and we dated for a couple years. Have always thought of this as the first poem I wrote for pleasure, and the turning point in the relationship. A large part of my the reason I write today.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
In Loving Memory
As inevitable as birth is the arrival of death
But how different is the first, from the final, breath
Pain and tears and the miracle is born
Tears and pain and from us you are torn
Ninety years are gone in the blink of an eye
But would you have us laugh or prefer us to cry?
Is this the moment to mourn never seeing you again
Or the time to celebrate your life with us, Den?
I really barely knew you and now never will
And yet such a big part of my life you’ll always fill
Your shadow is cast longer then your tiny frame would permit
We’ll miss your penchant for the arts and your razor-sharp wit.
There is an empty seat at the table at bridge
And a full bottle of gin still waiting in the fridge
Five daughters who gathered to see you cut the cake
Find themselves instead planning a wake
You thanked the nurses with you final breath
Told them they were beautiful and accepted your death
But you were the beauty in your scarves of every colour
A unconventional wife, friend, gran, and mother.
We’ll miss you Den and yet be happy for you too
Appreciate that you’re up there having a few
Thanks for the laughs and the stories you tell
Goodbye, so long, auf wiedersehen, farewell!
Written March 2009, on the day my grandma Denise passed suddenly, and yet after years of expectation. An incredible woman who will be missed by all who knew her.
But how different is the first, from the final, breath
Pain and tears and the miracle is born
Tears and pain and from us you are torn
Ninety years are gone in the blink of an eye
But would you have us laugh or prefer us to cry?
Is this the moment to mourn never seeing you again
Or the time to celebrate your life with us, Den?
I really barely knew you and now never will
And yet such a big part of my life you’ll always fill
Your shadow is cast longer then your tiny frame would permit
We’ll miss your penchant for the arts and your razor-sharp wit.
There is an empty seat at the table at bridge
And a full bottle of gin still waiting in the fridge
Five daughters who gathered to see you cut the cake
Find themselves instead planning a wake
You thanked the nurses with you final breath
Told them they were beautiful and accepted your death
But you were the beauty in your scarves of every colour
A unconventional wife, friend, gran, and mother.
We’ll miss you Den and yet be happy for you too
Appreciate that you’re up there having a few
Thanks for the laughs and the stories you tell
Goodbye, so long, auf wiedersehen, farewell!
Written March 2009, on the day my grandma Denise passed suddenly, and yet after years of expectation. An incredible woman who will be missed by all who knew her.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
TGIF
Finally you've come again, it seems an age since we parted
Recalling just the thought of you, gets my heartbeat started
I hope you hang around this time, for an extra hour or two
Do you look forward to seeing me, as much as I do you?
Alas, I know you'll slip away, just like each week before
You'll soon be someone's Saturday, and my Friday no more..
Written Feb 2008, a quick thought during one Friday afternoon beer o'clock at work, an expression of my love for my favourite day. What ever happened to acrostic poems?
Recalling just the thought of you, gets my heartbeat started
I hope you hang around this time, for an extra hour or two
Do you look forward to seeing me, as much as I do you?
Alas, I know you'll slip away, just like each week before
You'll soon be someone's Saturday, and my Friday no more..
Written Feb 2008, a quick thought during one Friday afternoon beer o'clock at work, an expression of my love for my favourite day. What ever happened to acrostic poems?
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