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walk
my mind is a walk
through strange scenes
strangers life.
impossible meanings
walking bare feet
out to the foot path
down on to the road
the journey begins
from a house in fairfield
to the great blue yonder...
----
my mind is a playground
swings and playthings.
o, so many probabilities
that lay in hiding,
watching
from under the see saws
presidents and generals of the future
playing games of war
over football
with callused knuckles
watch the celestial ballerinas
plaits and piggy tails
glide through the air and landing
on one foot
start kissing each other
in dry animal heat
the outlaws writing their love graffiti
on the wood
of jungle jim
with gentle coercion
from a mother and
the pocket knives taken
from father's bottom draw
the benevolent watchers
with push chairs and
thirty years full of doubts,
reciting the same regrets
preformed in previous days
speeches, but spoken
into another ear
the man in black cadillac
driving past with aviators on
to trap the dark inside,
and wicked sexual intent
on his tongue,
looking for a little
fun.
----
my mind is a whore house
fuck for a dollar.
constantly spread eagled
on an altar
selling out
to survive the cold winters
any which way is taken baby, yeah
i'm a fire cat
you a big man,
fuck harder just like that
you the best ever had,
never lie
this is boredom
deeds done, cash on the bed side
table, picked the clothes up
from off of the ground
out through the door
next one comes in
the ritual continues
it is a river of self deceit
and masochism for the perceived
rightness of the world
survival
institutional fuck
mental s.t.d
genitals cut on the teeth
of school teachers
laws of establishment
there is no other avenue
fell down through the earth
into gattaca
timetables, curriculum
predated virtues taught
to in the closet heathens
and heretics,
christ, this can't be
the only way to live
must burn the rule book
pimp imprisoning my right
to fuck by my own
decrees, so that i
can finally
make love.
----
my mind is a desert
in the fairy time.
sands are burning flames
solidified. the falcons
fly above
hunting prey
and scorpions bound over countless
miles in search of target
for their stings
dunes determined by fate
sliding over lands on the
moorish winds
the sun is camouflaged
in the ripples of searing heat
as it sinks under
the horizon sea
lady diana climbs
the desert night, and
the burn is replaced
by icy touch
arabic minstrels wander to open fires
begin to play their trance,
soul enticing tunes
for the belly dancers carnal
footsteps, gently placed
on the face of the desert muse
in darkness
on route to mythical mirage
of palm trees and water hole
and quiet sustenance
but yet, is still to be found
for there is no end, the desert
is eternal, living entity
immortal
this is his world, and this
is his body,
this is his skin
i am just a visitor.
----
my mind is a gallipoli
snipers in the cliff face.
soldiers swapping stories
of home, telling yarns
to shut the war out
fingertips tingle
and the skin itches as every piece
of shrapnel flies
over head
priest strolling through the barely living
with the promise of heaven
and honour
to those who may die
for their country
but they are lied to
wilfred owen says so
dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
a fucking lie
and priest to those
who live to see another morning dew
on red poppies
they are graced with double edge sword
of reliving hell on a different day
but speak not the priest
to those who are to be sent home
those few survive at a costly penitence
for murder in the name of country
and priest knows so
return they will
back to mothers, brothers and wives
minus limbs, shell shock, lost friends,
unnatural desire for end,
their broken faith in humanity insures
that they meet their deaths slowly
alone in a crowd.
boots with holes, socks saturated
rifle is saviour
and bullets are lovers
no victor in war but war itself
and yet, the fight continues
and the cliff is stormed, wave after wave
a desire of poisoden reckoning
to hurt and murder the sandy shores
and anzac men die in numbers high
comrades in arms falling
everywhere around
soldiers ashen faced
sick and tired, slaughtered like cattle
for men in top hats, cravats
walking sticks
all dying for the man
the man in charge
of a country's pride.
----
my mind is a cemetery
quietly sleep the passed away.
next to a rose garden, down by the waikato
stand tombstones remembrances
with flowers adorning granite faces
see the wind sneaks through rows
bestowing a solemn hush
the carnival of they who come
to kiss the graves with felled tears
makes my heart bleed in wanting
to be loved like this but i am scared
that this is just fantasy
the question, will i be
remembered
constantly killing me.
all the trees clothe the land in shade
from the sun's death
grass is green with tints of brown
flowers are daisy breeding
crushed under boots, unnoticed
spiders making webs around resting places
long forgotten working heroes
maids in display for astuteness virtue
the young struck down by influenza
the beauty is unparallel
always have i strived for bays
of tranquil waters still
amongst the quiet forever more
i feel that i can cry here
and, sombre is my soul and warm
i, i am at peace with myself
and no longer shall i fear
for i believe that i have found
a family and a home here.
----
my mind is the southern night
a myriad of madness and fallen stars.
the man in the moon is upside down
comets race across drunken vision
the mystics on the street corner down my road
preach happy tidings
to the long white cloud wanderer.
i wear able tasman’s eye
i am discovering the true
aotearoa
mosquitos are violin tremolo’s, buzzing
the pigs drive passed with flashlights
consuming the black
stare me down, you see
any soul?
the drive on past devoid of silence
cacophony of sounds and sirens
and bright red lights and blue lights
dancing.
main road, central hamilton, victoria
a maze of moving walls with feet
the mannequins with cell phones
one night stand fucks
linked arm in arm
the smell of excess on breath
and breasts and cocks and
eyes and fingertips.
dogs in lustful heat
pissing on building corners
to proclaim territory
a fight.
the girls swoon at the manly
cabaret
flying fists, kicks aimed at testicles
to break the heart
i watch and tire quickly
resume to path i was taking
i am borderline sober, psychotic
need to fly
gaze up at all the white spots
stretch my arms and hands upwards
swipe from left to right
gather the harvest
reaping the crop
i got a handful of stars
drop them one by one
the galaxy is now in my head
it is mine
the heavenly high
fucked on fallen southern night
stars
i can not imagine a journey
down the slide in the cosmos of time
without living with this thirst for
excess madness and life.
----
my mind is a home coming
open fire and dinner on the table.
the journey ends
meanings are no less strange
but all in perspective.
i return from the great blue yonder
with blisters on my feet
and a fix for the hole
in my mind, body, and soul.
i have reasoning’s for why i am
the way i am. confusion still
reigns, but i am not its slave,
i am its equal.
i am scared no longer
for i understand my function inside
the equation of my own life.
i am master of my own mind
and i am its humble servant.
----
the mind is a wondrous thing
a vault where precious prizes keep.
it is the everything, controls
the heart, breathing,
the ability to move
touch and seeing
the mind, vast caverns unchartered
hold demons and angels
other voices
your heritage, your birth
the comings
your life
inevitable end
the goings
look into with child eyes
untainted
cleansed
pick the lock and destroy
the vault and steal the prize
it is yours.
the mind, a book
with blank pages
your slide through the vast cosmos
of time
the fountain pen
with undying ink
the mind, to think
to live in day dreams
to escape
from all things dirty and clean
and ugly and pristine
and piety and depravity
and life, to escape from life
is what the world really needs
to dream of the one place safe
and matter not with the noise
that street wall-kers and desert nomads and
playground kinder and desolate whores and sniper soldiers
and forgotten dead whispers
create.
the mind does not discriminate.
peace,
if you can make it so
the mind is inner sanctum.
sanctuary.
chaos,
if you let it grow
the mind is bloodied
battle field
complete,
if you can combine the two
the mind is your only
true companion.
take a walk
through your own mind
and find the pieces
of your soul,
i urge you too.
take a walk through your own mind
and make a thing of art.
----
