Could it be that I
the purity in the sky
should cast a discerning eye
over my breeding stock of
human worth
my goods and chattels
harvest of the earth?
Could it be that they
have gone irrevocably astray
despite my clear direction
to follow my instruction
my example
to embrace peace and love
as do I in heaven above?
Could it be that I
master of earth and sky
should punish
the fear and loathing
the hatred and the gloating
in the name of God above
despite my principle of love?
It is with regret that I realise my prophecy will not be believed
it is with sadness that I see a world of unwanted hurt cannot be relieved
into the apocalypse will fall one and all for want of not heeding my call
it is not for a lack of frequency that my message remains unreceived
it is not for a deficit of clarity my warning languishes ill perceived
for none can learn from the evidence when there are none who wish to hear
who from convenient comfort will attend to tales of turbulent doom as it draws near?
who has the power to break the apathy of masses when the masses will not act on their fear?
and who will take the time to reflect after the dismal impact, who will shed a tear?
The Cape Schanck lighthouse is still full of ghosts
of keepers passengers and sailors who died on this coast
as white as the thick walls through which they keen
they swirl through the tower only glimpsed never seen
forever unsettled by tragedy at the mercy of storms
restless air is chilled by their cold empty forms
even when the wind is warm and the wide strait is calm
they struggle with their violent cruel death and its legacy of harm
remembering loved ones left behind who grieved at the cost
ghosts grieve for futures never had to the sea that were lost
today's lively visitors to the lighthouse one and all
never leave without hearing a whisper or a ghostly call
when they climb the spiral steps to look at the view
they hold loved ones closer against a chill as if they knew
each of the ghost stories from each deep watery grave
all stop a sad shivered moment with the souls never saved
then they return to their homes families and friends
departing a ghastly lighthouse dance that never ends
My response to The Skeptic’s Kaddish W3 prompt. Make sure you read Dennis Johnstone’s and Nancy Richy’s two wonderful poems included.
I was looking for a belly laugh
so I jumped into a steaming bath
water tickled my toes
while I read funny prose
and bubble bath tickled my nose
See the prompt from Esther below:
"Democracy is our most precious institution, you must respect that!" he said pounding his right fist into his open left hand.
"Not when all the operating principles are misrepresented and undermined," I replied emphatically.
"Where is our right to a meaningful vote as valued as the next person's? Government no longer supports equality of education or opportunity. Freedom of speech is a shouting match dominated by the loudest. Equitable access to public resources and social infrastructure is largely pork barrelled. The distribution of wealth is dominated by manipulative profiteering cliques."
"The term democracy has been misappropriated, Political leadership is in the hands of the powerful or power mad."
"Our people want to participate, to share the benefits with each other, but our system isn't democratic, it all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied."
The dVerse prosery prompt to which I have responded comes from Merrill. It seemed to demand a political statement to me. See below:
He crossed the bar sails puffed full as his chest
proud to be crashing the swells and foaming waves
escaping the line upon line of graves
his father his brothers his family destroyed
only his youth denied vengeance for he had been but a boy
but now he was strong free to charge into the fight
to wreak havoc and injury to his morbid delight
the one goal remaining in his grief filled life
only one task to satisfy his dissatisfied plight
in the land of his enemy he had something to prove
to show the dark master he had nothing to lose
what he could do where his father and brothers had failed
onto the place of their betrayal he now speedily sailed
to vanquish that brutal regime on its very own soil
after years of study planning training and toil
he stepped onto the land an army at his back
and he cried the war cry, "Attack men, Attack!"
make more colour
my little flowers
for the world
is becoming bleaker
its complexion darker
we must not
let the darkness win
how can I help you
put more colour
back into the world
my little flowers?
As I travel around the city
I contemplate something true
people are all doing something
seeing myriad projects through
every choice they make a decision
to copy or find something new
in working separately or together
they are constantly stirring
the city’s creative brew
It is the rugged mountain landscape that reflects my heart
from great heights I watch over every part
the pinnacles are the summit of my aspiration
valleys are where I pause for consideration and revelation
water scoured gullies have carved their scars onto my soul
but the long deep range sustains and heals my whole
open rolling plains broad flat and wide
are where the scope of my vision emerges from inside
where I can see from horizon to horizon
nothing impedes my hopes here my future can be spun
from each creature or blade each single tree or forest
I absorb the beauty of each day each morning and evening sun
watching and observing for new opportunities to enlist
along waterways I explore the wilder places I adore
where raging tempest or placid calm invoke irrepressible desires for more
like the fluid medium within me water of my life
clean water fills all empty spaces with relief
and ocean depths teem with the origins of my genes
where all futures were created as a multiverse of dreams
This week the dVerse poetics prompt from Dora was to incorporate a landscape or cityscape into your poetry that either mirrors or amplifies your interior landscape (or lack thereof).
You're going to take nothing from no one
because debts get in the way
you're going to take nothing from no one
so you can say the words you want to say
never going to be part of society
because in society you make mistakes
your mistakes will be your own
but you'll make the rest of us pay
you're not gonna let anyone ask about
what made you so selfish and mean
that stuff is for your mind only
so the rest of us can’t twist your dreams
you’ve turned away from science
from politicians and academics mad
you’ll make all your own decisions
take responsibility for all you have
and tell the rest of us crazy mixed up people .....
endlessly what to do
ask us to think about consequences
how they should be made up to you
be the individuals you want us to be
enjoy a state of narcissism
ignore fake laws and social responsibility
and never pay a tax again
in this false deep state society
you always challenge the facts
even though facts keep the country afloat
despite weight of your discredited attacks
ever suspecting conspiracy afoot
never recognising the rules
that keep order and protect
you ignore useful social tools
to leave the rest of us a wreck
in the name of sovereign citizenry
seek to look only after yourself
applying your proclivities exclusively
to personal wants by stealth
take nothing from no one
except defence roads and schools
take nothing from no one
because national interest is for fools
take nothing from no one
abuse generous public infrastructure
take nothing from no one
except sewers, clean streets and water
take nothing from no one
make your own rules then lecture
the rest of us - better educated
than you a pseudo educated creature
the rest of us appreciate
degrees of being regulation bound
we are more common sensible
than you social media complainers
with few justifications to be found
so take nothing from nobody
except all the things you need
only take all the good stuff
leave everyone else to bleed
take nothing from no one
and never think to give anything back
you will keep taking all you want
until cohesive society cracks
I haven’t been in the habit of submitting my writing to be published elsewhere. However, I was recently introduced to https://spillwords.com and thought the site looked like a good place to start. Happily, the editorial team chose to give me some space https://spillwords.com/author/seanmathews/ for my recent poem ‘two cups of tea.’ I am thankful for their encouragement. Maybe it is time to try more submissions.
I will tell you in the morning that you are the last person I want to see
then I realise how ambiguous that statement is
so I will add
you are the only one to whom I really need to say goodbye
When I’m looking for a place to go
I say to myself “hey na vro po”
cos sometimes I just wanna go slow you know
so I clear my head with hey na vro po
it works like a dream every time
I let off steam I really unwind
to small animals and children I become very kind
after hey na vro po that’s what I find
it’s sort of like floating in your mind
you levitate and leave reality behind
looking down around you you look for signs
of where you’ve been or are going
it’s not defined
I sometimes follow myself walking down the street
my mind is vacant I’m walking a slow beat
I’m heading for a park to take a seat
and visiting the park feels really neat
so I sit gently down I put up my feet
I lean my head back to look up at the sky
it’s empty as my brain except a bird flies by
the bird is blue but it has a happy cry
hey na vro po everything is right with the sky
it’s so nice in a space where the world is green
where everything is cool a scene to be seen
I stretch out my arms along the seat in a dream
I then stretch out my legs and watch motes in a sunbeam
there are couples walking and families at play
there’s some kangaroos looking at me as if to say
so you’ve treated yourself to a hey na vro po day
well don't let us get in your way
good for you you deserve it mate
to take your empty self out and about is great
it's kind of like a one person date
hope you find the sweet spot in your mindless state
you can learn a thing or two from a kangaroo
when they look into your eyes just look back too
you’ll find a blankness you should aspire to too
for they are excellent role models for you
high quality lounging is what they like to do
so you lounge on the grass to watch life pass
you soak up sun as you stretch out and bask
you discover that lying on the grass is no task
you allow yourself to doze without being asked
and it doesn't matter one bit how long it lasts
twilight arrives as the sun starts to go down
time to go home walk back through the town
hey na vro po waylays any frown
you're so relaxed you don't mind downtown brown
still you weave some colourful flowers into a crown
another hey na vro po day you sought and you found
so you walk back with your feet just above the ground
If I had wanted to tell you the truth I would have
I think you should acknowledge that
you should think about it
because when you understand why
you will either love me more than ever
or hate me forever
either way I will know I made the right decision
and we will see the greater truth come to pass together
It is the weight of the heat that I struggle to bear
a relentless oppressiveness that burns my skin
I am surrounded by its stillness its density
dehydration works from the outside in
my surface is sweaty gritty debris
constant exposure is to wither
and shade is no relief
at 48 degrees the sun
robs me of my water
a remorseless thief
I went down to see the majority in action gathering in the square
the surging crowd the chanting voice of many people was there
yet I missed the referring whisper of others from the crowd
the minority of a democracy was absent / quiet as a shroud
and whither was their point of view drowned by slogans and revile
the future of inclusiveness dominated by slurs that defile
I looked for the different colours here the different sounds and where
I found such difference I did recoil at its oppressed nature there
then cans were rattled the songs were long about victory and strength
but for those lost and weak who did not belong there was to be no defence
as push came to shove and drama spilled onto this public stage
the large protest became a test of where the power is really laid
how it would be used to push a point of view not clear to absolutely everyone
unless to power they were already connected or held the butt of a gun
there is apparently no place for everyone under our glowing democratic sun
for those left out it was time to think and maybe time to run
Wu comprises the ethereal properties every astute observer and collector seeks to discover and contemplate in a work of art. Through soul deep application of mind to work, the true artist unconsciously transfers the elements of wu into each piece. Wu is found in the place where heart, spirit, creativity and labour merge to engender an aesthetic completeness that can make an observer’s personal appreciation a deep and pleasurable experience.
As such, the wu in any work of art reflects the embodiment of each creator proportionate to their skill and ways of knowing and communicating the intent of their work. Through ingrained wu the observer can in turn identify, absorb and emotionally connect with the very personal elements thereby embedded.
Deliberate reflection and attendance to the presence of wu precipitates the flow of emotion, peaceful or turbulent, and intrinsic understanding that is the purpose of all art. Only through wu can the observer hope to be truly moved by the artist’s creation, its existence, its presence in the now.
Note: this is my development of the concept of “wu”, an idea referred to by Philip K. Dick in his masterpiece of science fiction ‘The Man in the High Castle‘.
We recently had to evacuate three generations of our family from three households across northern and central Victoria. Due to multiple and extensive bushfires, we watched with anxiety as they flared and ebbed and flared again towards our various homes. Fortunately, we all returned to intact houses. Many were not so lucky.
As the climate situation gets worse, with every New Summer we feel the new fear rise again.
All work is my own and you can share it as much as you like.
I meet her every Sunday morning
we have two cups of tea
I haven’t been sure why I go
but she seems to like to see me
I guess it’s because she’s lonely
and I’m the only one left around
with any sort of connection to her
for her it’s a pretty empty town
she always puts a face on
and she has two types of tea
would I prefer black or green?
a nice gesture
but it’s all the same to me
maybe a couple of biscuits?
shortbreads or Chocolate Royals
artfully presented on a floral plate
immediately after the kettle has boiled
we start with a chat about the weather
during the previous week
we could talk about it forever
but actually that’s not why we meet
she was ninety last December
you wouldn’t know it though
all her friends and rellies dead and gone
I guess that makes my visits a special sort of show
me, her brother’s son’s son
I didn’t even know we were related
until she called me on the phone
she said she had something to give me
since her nephew was now also gone
I was hesitant, but I went around
choosing right from wrong
and we seemed to settle into a pattern
after great great grandad’s medals she passed on
it’s interesting I guess hearing about her life
and she asks about mine too
I think she wants to check
I’m not in any strife
she was in a war too you know
New Guinea
at the bottom of the Kokoda Trail
a young nurse waiting for injured soldiers
she has lots of horror stories to tell
and many that make me smile
one day she let on one of those soldiers was her dear oldest brother
he didn’t make it to the hospital tent
she told me he was dead by the time they got him down
she says the world lost a rascal and a gent
he’d been stabbed in the stomach and hit by a round
the Japanese bayonet wound went septic
they gave her a morning off to grieve and to see his body sent
she became a union activist after the war was over
the women had been doing the “men’s” work
but when the men returned working women were just seen as a bother
she saw her job as helping women stand up for what was right
she really was a pioneer, one with great foresight
however, she was largely a teacup without a storm
still she spoke out and fronted for the fight
even though inequality again became the norm
she says the women had proved their worth
yet society again reverted to the patriarchal curse
nonetheless she says she has never been bitter
just encouraged to try harder for more jobs and equal pay
sad she says though
that equal pay for women is still not a reality today
she has outlived her husband and three children now
sometimes she talks about them sadly
then she always perks up when she asks
if she can recount their quirks and talents
so I learn ever more about them quite gladly
my parents are divorced and always hostile and angry
consequently I don’t want to see them much
however I do sometimes wonder if they ever talk about me
with such a loving parental touch?
I tell her about my partner and my favourite things in life
she listens intently to my prattling and often offers up good advice
come to think of it I kind of like it
this tea for two with my great aunt
in fact I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday morning
if I’m honest I really can’t.
All work is my own unless otherwise stated. I do not use AI.
dancing in the living room
to The Beatles Twist and Shout
shaking off all the gloom
working it all out
will I dance tomorrow?
you better believe it mate
because there’s always something to look forward to tomorrow
and free dancing feels great
I do a little bit of a twist
a bit of rock around the clock
I like to give it my best
a bit of pop and lock
if anyone wants to join me
rock, techno, blues or pop
there's no aggro or shaming
just celebrating music until you drop
poetography.ink 