“Our hearts long to trust and be trusted.” Karl Jaspers.
What is the human world without trust? It is a world of lies and deceit that has lost its common purpose. Only in sharing the truth can there be trust. Without trust there can be no hope, no true happiness.
Every one of us seeks trust. If we feel we can no longer find it in our leaders or institutions, we must seek it out in each other. It is there we will find trust, hope and happiness.
Me working at the foam cutting machine in the factory days of my youth (damn, I forgot to include my long locks of the time).
Fire me because I hate this job the work is menial the owners are snobs my self esteem they are trying to rob
resigning won’t cut it because Centrelink stinks they’ll stop any payments for weeks and weeks so I’m trapped in this lousy job I did not want anyway they forced me to take it though I wanted more pay
but who am I to say I’m worth more pay when the alternative is no welfare paydays while seeking the work I am qualified for as opposed to dismissal or a lost file in a drawer
so I press button one I press button two slicing foam for packaging it’s all I need do when due for a break a mountain of off cuts I climb in my dead time and I bounce on my bum to the tinnitus hum of factory machinery that means nothing to me
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
10 January 2022. Chocolate lily, Mackerell’s Rd, Strathbogie, Victoria. Every corner, every stretch, every measure, cycling delivers surprise and pleasure.
I wonder if I will ever get back on my bikes free to ride wherever I like living with arthritis is a constant pain I do hope I get to ride again luckily I can write to fill my time put some cycling photography into rhyme
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
Talk to me about the sea of sand drift and sea breeze murmurings of tidal sliding and wavelets gliding onto a peaceful shore
of curling surf and whale songs of towering waves and sailor’s graves of a blow driven chop hard to cross and the constant desire for more
of rock pool eddies of a wind unsteady of sudden squalls and risking all of unpredictable storms defying norms of salty landless freedom
of reflected moonlight and sunsets bright of dolphins playing and albatross staying of cutting the water and catching fish of life in Neptune’s kingdom
of thunderheads piled high or a cloudless sky of seabirds arriving splashing and diving of phosphorescent wake so easy to take of distant horizons all around
tell me tales about the briny sea how to travel a weather filled journey crossing oceans wide upon the tide and I’ll take you where I’m bound
I watched him as we sat upon the deck of the sinking ship the stern about to dip our chairs starting to slip our hands white in their grip he wondered where we would be tomorrow
he stood as fires erupted upon the tilting deck walked around the wreck sought every way to check for escape that he did seek only to find himself on the rails of sorrow
the water now was rushing over both our cold wet feet with no sign of relief in sadness and in grief life’s surging wild thief he told me he wished well for his wife and children
I looked at him I took him into embracing arms no protection here from harm just wishing to disarm anxiety and alarm one last moment of loving calm when going under the waves was the only given
we held each other standing there on the edge of fading hope to the horizon we did look to the water of our grave cold and churning were the waves then into each others eyes resigned to our good byes we held hands before stepping forward
the last things I remember are treading water in my doubt the water in my mouth the imminent blackout wishing I’d never roamed my loved ones left at home wishing I’d never sailed slipping under as strength failed his tired smile as we fell that I forgot to tell him how much I loved him
then came the wings of rescue they winched me up into the sun I the chosen one the sky it turned to gold but I had lost my hold on my brother and my friend who supported me to the end all I could think was how much I’m going to miss him
it’s been ten watery years passing underneath my bridge I’m wasted and I’m damaged with nothing left to salvage I relive our time together the fractured brother tether brothers ever a pair ever together everywhere and here I am still left with no way of knowing
how I can go on without my brothers song days are dark and long I think it’s time I must be going underneath the waves my lonely soft parade in hope that I will find my brother left behind always on my mind I want to join him on death’s seas a rowing together across the waves nothing in it brave just our watery grave and our time together saved
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not want AI to use my work.
Hooting to acknowledge others hunting there camouflaging plumage prey beware soundless flight beak and claws to tear night vision adept anywhere
hooting acknowledges others hunting there dancing with abandon a nightclub lair drinking jugs of alcohol teeth are bared faux charm awooing without care
De Jackson from dVerse asked we poets to post a Quadrille (44 word poem) using any form of the word “hoot”.
A mysterious bar in a secret location taken on a journey never to be disclosed.
The chairs were blue and black the floor was speckled grey the squat square tables were printed wood grain with aqua painted rays
most of what was said at the tables was untrue
the rendezvous of lovers straight or gay affairs were clandestine betrayals nothing here was fair
the wilful and the wicked the ribald and those plain dumb came together here for more pain or simple fun
few considered the consequences of their lies
there was a girl slender a blonde slash across her her chest a long ponytail from her shoulder hung between her breasts
her sharp pencilled brown eyebrows contradicted her eyes which were as ill defined as concrete slurry skies
dull grey as shattered shale they certainly lacked registration of the interest of the boy opposite of his panting or condition
she was as forgiving as she was a true blonde
her date was a smallish young man with waves of cascading auburn hair framing a long straight nose above a jutting jawline where
underneath his struggling beard his tongue would have been hanging out if it wasn’t for his jutting jaw of that there is no doubt
he tried to be interested in her words but a lusting body made him waver he talked in a desperate way with a flushed look and a quaver
there was nothing honest about the words he had to say
the family with the teenage daughter amused she wanted gin insisted she drink water but the barman slipped it in
after a few more gins were taken he met her later outside her innocence was lost as he took her for a ride
ashamed at her naivety ever after she denied
the chefs wore haircuts chiselled short back and sides engraved by the cutter with glyphs that meant nothing but misguided pride
everyone of them had a goatee of one length or another growing wiry out of cratered skin and a top knot tied with leather
these bound them all as brothers but this was no family they were in they fried, they tossed and flipped like cooking still food was a sin
most of that was kitchen trickery it was only for the show to impress all the customers who didn't care or want to know
the "Only the freshest ingredients" sign was blemished and rotting
the waitress was run off her feet she had black skin and a black tank top she looked trim naked and neat and nothing could make her stop
her apron was black it was stiff as a card her cheekbones were ebony razors high and hard
her gold plastic glasses amplified deep black eyes that reflected artificial moons from the fake silvery sky
skimming the muddy boards a note pad for orders clear she attended to demand pencilling a multi ear-ringed ear
everything she told customers was fiction
the ceiling was low the ceiling was false the abundant cupboards were bare the cash drawer opened with a jolt the counterfeit was there
behind a dado of artificial pine casual bar staff were busy mixing the bar top a deep black lacquered shine liquid with glasses spilling and clinking
the spirit shelves held coloured water the air was synthetic scented air the alcohol was inferior elixir the bar tenders challenged with a stare
every stare they glared was full of contempt and deceit
everyone in the room was scared scared of honesty scared of respect scared of integrity, dignity and truth scared because they were there to be looked at scared to look scared of the culture that required they all pretend
RL 21.500 is a line in the sand between two opposing camps which one will make the first move? it is going to happen AAM (At Any Moment) don't look away or you might miss it
Dusk at the drop off, Mt Wombat, Strathbogie Tableland, Victoria.
I was loitering on the corner after friends had dropped me there I didn’t go nowhere because I was scared I felt it coming a fright and a fear as if it was my last year
and when it finally fell upon me the anticipated dread I wished I had stayed at home in my warm and cosy bed the devil in his black coat to me he came and said I’m gonna frame you
I looked around but I couldn’t see anything of a crime I waited there longer I waited some extra time there was nothing to give me a clue no flashing sign that my whole world was a turning
when she pulled up in her long bright shiny yellow hearse I avoided her stare as if it was a curse but eventually she prevailed with a promise to reimburse me for my trouble
we drove to the mountain right to the very top when we got there she made the hearse come to a stop right at the edge by a long steep drop I exclaimed I was scared of heights
she got out of the car came round and opened my door I didn’t see her coming cos I was looking at the floor she pulled me out with the strength of two or three or four and dumped me on the dirt by the barriers
I struggled as she prepared to throw me into the abyss but then she bent to give me my first Judas kiss I knew what was coming so I ducked and she missed I pushed her in the chest and she swayed backwards
little did I know that she would unbalance then I watched her teetering on the edge until when she fell to her death just as god sent me a message
he said to get out of there because things weren't looking pretty I didn’t need no message I as tore across the city my mind was in turmoil full of self pity I found a little hideaway a little dirty a little gritty and laid low until things blew over
ever since that day I’ve been creeping around the town all nervous and alone again I’ve been going round worried the cops would do me over and when I would be found but my life became fortunate and stable
the lord moves in mysterious ways around my little hangout but in my mind there really is no skerrick of a doubt he saved me twice from death and the devil without my ever understanding anyways how or about I ever got to be in so much trouble
When trouble comes an immediate aggressive reaction such as an emotionally driven attack often appears to be a satisfyingly vengeful, moral or honourable response.
Alternatively, assessing risk and acting accordingly makes good sense, responding mindfully and proportionately. Maybe a change to your behaviour, a tweak of an existing plan. Maybe putting your head down for a while, keeping your nose clean, waiting for things to blow over before again checking the lie of the land.
So, try to take a breath, just a moment, weigh up the immediate consequences. We all have to survive to achieve anything.
The longer term strategic approach may not harm your perceived opponent in the moment, cover you in glory or restore your honour. However, it may well deliver the most satisfying and right outcome for the future accompanied by enduring benefits.
Mr Trump, how smart are you really? Making America Great Again appears to have been a smart and useful local catchcry for getting elected to power in the present. It will mean nothing if you don't choose to work with other global leaders to save the whole planet for the future!
For lovers, North Creek, Strathbogie Forest, Victoria.
In forests we go walking to find the time for talking to take us away from the city hustle ever stalking
I meet you on love’s wings at the perimeter of meadows and I love you all the more as we enter soft green forest shadows
we take the paths less trodden to open new forest doors we find our way to high places to meres and rugged moors
the ferns they point our way with glistening fronds a waving guiding us through the timeless forest we find ourselves a weaving hand in hand we travel each a lovestruck wandering Gypsy this time this place alone together precious magical and carefree
sun rays light the glades with golden shafts of wonder we look aloft, laugh and dance beneath the forest grandeur
we lie down on forest beds and let our fingers do some walking our hands our lips our tongue tips put a silence to the talking
again the language of forest love begins and with it our renewal I’ll always be your forest love you my cherished forest jewel
when the forest loving is done and we must find our way back home we’ll look forward to more forest talking and forest loving yet to come
Construction corner of Swanston and LaTrobe, Melbourne, Victoria.
white crane meets blue glass red coils and tram lines stop look can't pass compose image and refine photo taken general view enjoy the process and the shot too
A shimmering emerald light I saw aloft in afternoon’s glow a flickering on and off with twisting turns it flashed colour at me I transfixed watched closely to see windy flutterings of swamp gum leaves on one branch hung these sunlight thieves eucalyptus greens greys and blues they waved their pretty dance to me they gave
I looked at you you looked at me I looked back again I sensed that you were asking if I was your friend? without Alpaca words to say so, I decided to move on I enjoyed our time together but there were other things to be done
What can you say our young assertive one with the voice of an innocent and every reason to come to the land of the people with the frozen tongues did you hear the voices trapped in the throats of the speakers the truthsayers the protesters the dumb and the seekers
what will you say my naive one as a voice for the reticent who want to save their home where no voices are heard and no listening is done did you crack the blank shields of the riot police abashing when your truth and your statements of the obvious were clashing with the public dialogue of denial that’s in fashion
what do you now see my prescient soul a world that is scared yet loudly condemning your role contradiction abounds around what’s believed and is told but you won’t close your mind your mouth or be controlled because the need is the need of a world being sold
where ascendant rejections of science’s findings carry weight disproportionate to tomorrow’s unwinding and the hope that was youth falls to systemic undermining I hope that you stand up to the relentless grinding for across the world there are still people who need you to attack all the arguments of denial so feeble they still rise to smother the planet in chaos and evil but for your pluck and your courage your ability to needle it does provide a check with words that are real and challenges others to rise too and reveal the lies and deception the denialists conceal I hope and I wish you can change how they feel
what will you say next our young assertive one
If you didn't pick it up the rhythm is sort of set to Bob Dylan's A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall
Where did that government find such murderous intent imprisoning and shooting their own wherever they went exercising ruthless summary force while advising its citizens they have no choice
venomous lies from forked tongues they let rip their smirking mouths toxic with poisonous lips vile spittle sprayed from the lips of autocracy blurs the vision of the masses with talk of democracy
all the while weaponising the rule of law where justice is now held in the tight grip of a claw a new dark age is coming where information is missed where manipulated voters are swayed by each Judas kiss
I will die of thirst ever a want of knowing that everywhere and elsewhere rivers of knowledge are flowing
I will die of thirst where enlightenment cannot be found confined to low dry stoney ground fully aware that above me clear and sparkling mountain streams abound
I will die of thirst of missed opportunity from the Afghan rivers I happen to see ignorance spikes their fresh waters their learning journeys are lost to me
while here the wells of education I would plumb are dry my parched mouth speaks dumb to a vacant sky my brain a withering interpreter blank of effective words and to such deficits I must succumb never listened to nor heard
my thirst for comprehension always unslaked uncured I tell you what is worst slowly I die of lack of knowledge cursed by this relentless thirst