On a hill where wars were once waged, sits a willow that weeps when it rains. It calls to the gods with each blow through the sky; earthed in the pasts remains. The faces and sounds and bloodied grounds; a twisted carnival of shame; hard to breathe even harder to believe that the sunshine isn’t … More Move it, Sunshine.
Dear Fellow Pirate, In response to your beautiful poem, I write this letter while holding a telescope, I mean periscope (or whatever that looking thing is called), fighting off a big burly man who wanted to steal my compass, AND also, while growling instructions at my crew. I am pretty sure if I wanted to, … More Come With Me Now
S tried her very best to keep a straight face as her friend J appeared without warning at the bar. S came every evening that J was on shift to have a milkshake (even while being given weird looks by other hard-core drinking patrons who likened milkshake in a bar to whores in a sexual … More The Unsecret Dialogue of Hooligans
I have the backbone for war, for blood soaked skin, hair soaked in red victory. Eyes bright green, manic with the dance of songs written before my time. My stomach is knotted at the thought of what lies ahead. So many broken people, who will effectively have to lay their swords down and trust me. … More Incoming, Oh YES!
With each spin of a gods coin, the constellation of dots join, with each swipe of the palm across salted face, and each footstep in or out of any place; notes are taken. Words are spoken. Nothing is token. Even when it’s broken. Each year that scolds, each day that unfolds, every single moment, breathtaking … More Birthday Poem for J
The earth breathes below the surface. A fire that pulls in time to the churning belly of the sun. The lull of the green, and the water a temporary facade; that covers an army of riotous chariots. Black smoke breathed cloaked whisperers, holding flowers that have long since lost their colour. Stolen from the graves … More Bound Before
A ‘do’, Like a Cockatoo. Reminded me, of you. You being the holler-er, of feathered things. Miss you. Me.
I was scratching through a few old albums J, and I found a few real corkers 😛 Love you babe.
The beauty in the fragility, and the spell in the white; is where the chains that you carry shed blood in the fight. The blue in your fire and the green in mine, will only burn brighter with the immeasurable time- it has taken the earth to spit up it’s landmines. We are filled with … More Lamb, got Sam