we’re not sailing or set adrift,
the night no longer belongs to or bothers us,
for we’ve moved past the moor.
swimming together, always together.
days inconsequential, like a shipless ocean.
there is no noise, or other boats
between us, the horizon shared,
a narrative of the love we swear,
without vice or anchor.
i come to you, in this old grey shirt and a smile,
promises of the heart exchanged with a glance,
bonded by the desire to never let go.
an endless sea.
i see her behind my eyes,
glowing through my every sight,
turning, twisting, blue,
each blink creates a smile.
into the waves together.
(for belinda. x)
weather & time have spoken,
the day stretches into night.
hours now mapped with the new,
still i wait for a shift.
a different window to look out of,
keys that fit another lock.
paperwork & promise,
for a life i long to live.
An empty city I don’t remember
A distant name I fail to place
People ask me questions about the past
Besides the memories I share with myself
I don’t like to remember what it was
Slowly selling what I own
Nostalgia is denial
That the future can’t be as good as an imagined history
The influence is finite
Sleepwalking through each minute
The right side of my brain
Lets me list the way it is
Is surely just the next big thing
I never had it
You never lost it
Keep on crying
If it gets you to sleep
On a global level
We can only dream of
Lapses of memory
it takes some distance to reflect,
to stop, think, process, wait.
admitting you are wrong is one thing,
what you do to address it is
another thing entirely.
some people talk a good game,
revealing little except results.
both playing cards close to the chest,
& from beneath the table.
what’s the point in just speaking,
about things you want to do.
when these things could already be removed
from the lists you’ll never write.
before the paper peels,
the train is missed,
& dreams are out of date.
time spent treading water,
isn’t wasted when,
you use it to survive.
observations of a busy street.
a book store smells a certain way,
the comfort of a million stories.
time spent will unlock its promise.
a ball of twine is a welcome sight,
the promise of something to be made or mended.
a couple, drinks water in different ways.
one from the glass, one straight from the gym.
a friend pulls a friend away from a passing bike.
the way they smile at each other afterwards,
suggests they’ve been friends for a while.
moments later, we’ll be someplace else.
minutes later, we’ll be gone.
i like the way certain trees
can shape the sound the wind makes
as i walk alongside the train tracks
i could swear to you
that i can hear the breath of the ocean.
to my ears
i feel like i’m on a cliff
with the clouds ahead preparing
to rage over serene waters
marking the beginning of the storm.
it’s about to rain & i’m waiting
i’m wondering if this ground will soon
be too wet to walk on
or will my shoes commence to slip?
when is a good time to do anything?
i don’t like talking much,
the idea of escape is amazing.
encapsulated by the absence of light
a man tormented by the guilt of his past
feels he is owed beyond his own sentencing.
is he entitled to a second chance,
or just has nothing left to lose?
“the love i feel is not confused
i shouldn’t feel so good
its weird feeling guilty about your life
when it’s going so good
enjoy it while it lasts
there are still things i’d change in life
like where i went each day
& that i want to truly let the ideas i have inside me
to grow toward beauty.
in this cell.”
yesterday he lay dead on a hospital bed
cycling, swimming, running, relapse
these were the order of events
he wrote about them all
these are the stories to be told.
an idea can be a simple thing
the impulse to mention something
to shake somebody’s hand
a thought that manifests in action
looks upon faces registering acceptance
& maybe a mention of time
to be something more than words inside
that within seconds are often swept away
for some reason this one remains
days later phones ring &
plates are contemplated
it leads to other things
& before you even realize
the favour is returned.
are worth fighting for.
Filed under childhood memories, family, fire, friends, lovethisshit, optimism, rituals, thought lines, what about linus?, words, writing
Celebrities are murderers & thieves. We are encouraged to look the same. To get ahead we travel in the same direction. We travel through arcs, the shortest distance. It’s not like it used to be. The real Heroes were pioneers. Those who were the first to do the things that had never been done. It’s incredible how proving a point can open up the world a little bit. Greater circles.
home to the holidays.
time to turn off engines & decide
to trust you have exactly what you need,
that you’ve cut enough wood for the winter.
there’s a beautiful humility in not wasting
the things that keep you alive.
arriving at the finish line on time.
in preserving those little things
that keep you warm at night,
you keep fires burning that people don’t see.
the story that we stay up late for,
a myth to make us mind our manners.
a painting of a photograph.
turning the wheel from high seas
to a surer path,
the needle spinning north.
by never cutting corners,
we never miss a beat.
he asked her once if she could be afraid,
“even an anchor needs a compass,
to only speak in S.O.S.
to always live in 10% panic
to never leap
to never love
to never live
to never know better
it’s hard talking about love. people always talk about how they can’t define it, it’s a noble feat to live your life trying to. i want to be well-respected & loved. i wanted to be famous but after the life i’ve lead i’d be happier just to be alive. when i stopped wanting to be famous i overcompensated with everything to try & pretend i didn’t care. all in a vain effort to conceal the reason for my decisions. when i lost people i didn’t live in a way that honoured them. at the time i bandied around the word “lukewarm” – it was a word i used a lot to decipher what i thought was weak. to be “lukewarm” was the worst thing imaginable to me at the time. to have failed. the truth is, i never really got over it. the reality, of what had happened that is. it’s prophetic when you start repeating things to yourself, to be become what you fear. we’re defined by our failures, just hopefully not remembered for them. we’ve done the things we do so many times before. to climb over the wall. to mean it. to take the time it takes. i fear for the few who were smart enough to see it but didn’t stick around long enough to change.
you’ve got to consider history.
sign language was born out of war,
a battle of the senses.
when engines failed & words would no longer do.
in every environment where language is languid,
a series of hand signals is invented.
we should consider this more often.
what to do in times of trouble?
we should learn from experience,
but i always forget what to remember.
these stories always sound so
much better when the words are fired
in the direction of others.
it’s too easy not to listen to ourselves.
as we’ve heard that story
one too many times.
it’s like cooking for one.
Filed under and the kid that plays piano..., bad poetry, clock, dexterity, engine down, flags, gestures, late late night, night, noise, opinion, photos, pictures, sidestep, signals, signs, words, writing
am i invisible?
most times i truly believe i am.
what with people not listening or thinking,
it’s hard to get through most days,
let alone carry strangers with you through it.
it’s exhausting translating for people who do not speak
& tiring speaking around those who’s logic has failed them.
sometimes the only truth is silence.
you are the ones who should be worried
we are the last line of defence
the last who could afford not to worry
who could afford not to care.
i didn’t care
to read any more
as surely every decade judges
just the same
as the one gone by before.
it’s just as hard to
pretend to ignore,
but it pushes us
a little more.
Filed under cave, cemetery, dexterity, late late night, light, new order, night, opinion, optimism, white wall, wire, words, writing, your move sucker
the human mind can do anything
i truly believe that
we are inventors
we have to be
otherwise we’d still be playing with fire
& dreaming of wheels.
turning on the television i asked
“will i meet my dreams again
or bump into the ideas that build hope
a voice soon told me something like,
“you’ll meet them all again on a journey to the middle.”
but before i could write it down
to get the perfect wording
it escaped me.
i asked it the same question again later but,
all i heard was music.
Filed under bad poetry, beginning, deadend, opinion, optimism, quote, whatsthefuckingpoint?, wires, words, writing, your move sucker
we will miss you
i respect your skills
i appreciate that
you see what i’m getting at?
every now & then
i should go
nice talking to you
It always started on a sunday afternoon around 6 o’clock, when I’d finish skateboarding for the day & decide it was time to head home. The sun would come down fast & although that usually didn’t stop me, it was easier to appear for dinner than to argue why I hadn’t. If I was lucky, my walkman batteries would last the entire way home. There was Jane’s Addiction on one side & New Order on the other.
In the final stages of rolling home, a huge knot would start to form deep in my stomach. That the weekend was dying, killed me. To restart that mindless cycle made me care even less about the useless contents that filled it. I’d stop worrying that I smelt like smoke & sit down at the table. I could always tell how drunk my father was by how inedible the meal was, for some reason the more upset he was, the more salt we had to consume. There was still a childhood, buried beneath the backwards rituals.
You just had to be prepared to fight for it.
The time from 8:30 until around 10:15 used to pass so quickly, but this was an education. I was obsessed with the idea of the sunday night movie for many reasons. When I look back, they were often the films that formed the conversations on which many early friendships were born. To be able to talk violence & drama was to walk forward in the schoolyard.
To make people laugh.
If I was lucky,
I would arrange my evening so I could stay awake all night.
To stay awake & keep up with the world seemed to be the perfect way to flip the finger to the pain building in my stomach & the anger I felt towards a life lived beyond my control. It’s a mere coincidence that I developed a taste for stranger movies as I wanted to stay up later & later.
A secret handshake.
A greater social ammunition.
Filed under films, fire, friends, jane's addiction, laugh, movies, new order, night, opinion, optimism, real, rituals, skateboarding, words, writing, your move sucker
words that makes sense
how long before they fade
is anything correct forever?
i want to be remembered
for getting it right.
i’ve always adored the phrase
“safe as houses.”
who doesn’t want to be
someone you’d always bet on.
the smartest words
come from the people
who’ve made the biggest mistakes.
Filed under bad poetry, black & white, house, images, opinion, optimism, photos, pictures, white wall, words, writing
“We’re through being cool.”
we’re in it together
we chart the success of our decisions
no? it’s not like that at all
but it’s much more about the experience
like playing a new game
& living a new life.
to be truly happy.
I think the key to writing is that beautiful shift from inspiration to what manifests on the page. More specifically, that the spark catches fire with other people. Communication that is received loud and clear. Not allowing fear or doubt & especially the perception of others to influence why. Why does anyone let thoughts leave the nest? It’s about what’s over the fence. Who will I meet & where could these worlds of words actually take me. Would people, who I’d never imagine to, understand? Fascination interests me more than actually having the prize, it’s what keeps the wheels turning. So that’s where desire comes in, to create and present. To high jump rejection & not gaze too long at your reflection. To evolve. People struggle to have an opinion, when all they really want is a voice. People struggle to have decisions made for them, when all they really want is a choice. Suppressed thoughts are the dying dreams of those who make a living lying down. If people merely wanted to consume or finish things, they’d buy a coffee or a crossword. Remain optimistic.
we’ve been counted in these numbers so many times before
too many times to mention that’s for sure
to be denied, we’ll take a stand
& walk out if we must do.
not wait to leave
by their accord,
that would lead me to disgust too.
so i jumped & leaped & took the largest step of faith,
i had to
from a place where i’ve been hurt so many times before.
i’d been moping round & wasting time
more than i should have had to
with a hoping heart that’s melted on the floor.
“my ignorance is merely me
taking my time” – he laughs
“you never could” – she cries
“take my time?
it sounds better when you say ‘spend it’
i guess that’s why they say, that time is money
as they are spoken about in the same easy ways.”
“i guess” – she says,
“we save time by getting things
right the first time & we steal time where we can.”
before you let it get to you
make a change to change.
it’s not too hard
to notice the little things,
or to hold this moment.
to let people know why
instead of leaving them to
their own devices,
defenseless & wondering why.
not thinking the worst,
is what you were whispering.
valuing the time & effort taken.
when someone gets it right.
there is nothing worse
than turning on your own kind.
i’ve been to that dance before.
the smell it hits you
you are left with a nervous stomach
stomach turning as you walk, tuning in
interpreting the air.
there is science to these seasons
poles are tilted,
the solstices mark the points
in another sphere of living
a different hemisphere
changing intensity & concentration
rays give rise to
reverse our situation.
fielding feelings of excitement and change
change of heart as buried feelings surface
surface air turns warm with the lit up sky
hitting past memories like posts into the ground.
i took a walk just now
it’s beautiful outside today
it reminded me of summers and springs past
seen with a fresh set of eyes
a smell send you travelling faster
than any plane can fly
Filed under images, words
sometimes it rains.
got to wash my mouth out with hope.
better than ever.
There is no compromise with a machine.
Even then, the story was far from finished.
I hope we keep our sites set high.
Get something out there with a name attached to it,
I hope we keep our sights up.
It’s time to close another door.
Still running low,
running low grade,
low grade temperature
to get someone’s attention.
However this will be just the beginning,
getting to the age where he knows whats going on.
Been up & down, about,
& I celebrate with pictures.
We have spent much of our week indoors.
There are hundred`s of us, fighting,
who were out & about getting into trouble.
I think we have a future,
from drying out.
Though it didn’t stand up great to handling — it’s really a stone,
I finally learned the following:
I’m not sure she really knew what she was getting into.
We really did not see this coming.
They are finding out a lot more
& some street fireworks
about to ride the train,
we caught not very popular seats.
I will share it with you when I can.
How far behind the times am I?
The next morning I was able to help
an active duty military member,
“I write about my everyday life with its ups and downs.
I’ve also made a serious
goal of developing an advanced
game with a rating system,
discovered something wrong.
But as you know I’m saving
a few features and impressions.
The ambition to do what has never been done before.”
I have always had & still have a funny, odd obsession
with their tanks & their cars, & their cars & their tanks.
Filed under beginning, words
we exist beyond space.
where even it, doesn’t dare to creep.
right now i’m enjoying the space apart.
coming from a time when too many people thought the same way
& too many people were saying things like, “it’s all going to be ok.”
blind faith, it’s generally a bad sign.
which promotes thoughts of departure.
when an exit isn’t planned,
you almost feel as if
you are going off the grid.
a leap in this direction though,
can be exhilarating & should happen
entirely more often.
I read recently that tectonic plates
are named as they are after latin words;
referring to the large-scale motions of Earth’s lithosphere
pertaining to theories of continental drift,
combinations of movements that shape where we live.
I wonder why the biggest human motions
our minds emotions,
are measured by the simplest words
and remain largely undescribed
when you are up against a wall
facing it if you will
you only think of the past
all future thoughts are only
those that ponder what can go wrong
which is surely not
a way out
Filed under images, words
looking for a way
to make it work
the people with money constructing
the people without
tearing it down
no one wants to live
facing a wall
they can not climb
Filed under images, words
sometimes i worry
about the way people talk to one another
& try to lead
to not hold words behind
the limits of a face.
as we move closer to the horizon
the low-slung clouds
make it seem as if
there are mountains where we live.
the further we travel
the distance puts the land in perspective
& when we speak out of turn,
we know it’s with
the best intentions.
to observe a morning
free from demands
of lateness and desire
simple on its feet
shaking off the yesterday
soaked in the lateness of last night
to be presented with
a blank canvas where i can pretend
we’re all on the same page
the shimmer of reflection
bounces off the sideboards and floors
stretching the shadows
like a silence
and people waste so much,
there is a problem here.
you can pretty much live for free,
if you are willing to ride the wave.
is there such a thing,
as living rough?
going back through the memory.
i can’t see your hand,
so what you’re holding can’t hurt me.
history never felt so real.
if you can use it, it’s yours.
Get in where you fit in.
We close, when we sell out
It’ll get worse before it gets better.
I suspect it always gets that way.
This is our town & don’t you forget it.
there is nothing more satisfying
than undoing knots
the patience in following a line
to find where it begins
that first taste of victory
when the lace loosens
the record spinning
reminds of truth
it confirms my direction
it steadies my pulse
in an instant all can change
a life to explore unravels
birthed from a moment
when even tying your shoes
could seem like a battle
do you ever think it strange to have been doing something for longer than you have not? the mind bends & hands tremble at the introduction of another way. it’s why training is so tiring, information can be exhausting. we’re perceived to be resistant to change but somehow we’re the last to know. beyond our control it often goes as such, but we’re just not wired that way. we forget the history of our success & wonder how or if we’ll ever recover. to argue in extremes we picture an older us, with words once loved removed from use & thoughts removed from memory. sound filtered & life tarnished from here on in. it’s where the brain seems to naturally direct us when new concepts fast approach. caught up in reaction, the point missed as often as the opportunity to evolve, i have been pretending i don’t care how to steer my entire life. another car i’m yet to drive.
consumed by the book being read.
he almost misses.
a coffee cup rolling lazily.
in a drunken arc.
unsure of its direction.
it darts in & out.
of the firing line of feet.
as it bumps its dizzy head relentlessly.
into the poorly painted base.
of the seat in front.
getting up to leave.
he sees a heart.
tattooed on the side.
embarrassed to be alive.
he picks it up and others.
pretend not to look.
another soul is saved.
ready for change
& the breeze that swims through it
refusing empty commitment or
cheap talk with short fire range
you don’t worry about sentiment
engagement wields a hollow point
searching wide & digging deep
tunneling past stalemates & dead weight
these four walls house lies & dried out lines
nothing left to hang up
no horror afforded
only the luxury of lies
shoot straight & clean
target stolen seconds
when the plans are passed over
you are left only with discounts
shells of satisfaction
that no sound will suffice
we’ll look back and laugh
soon, but not just now
silently we plan to strike
you knew that from the start
it’s too late now
what you don’t know won’t hurt you
it’s not like i killed anyone
i think you’re over-reacting
you’ve done worse
it’s not what it looks like
it never is
you can’t believe
everything you read
Filed under images, words