The tram it is late the line it is clear except for the gig riders in their weatherproof gear the pedestrians dodge each other prop and weave the boy on the kerb wipes his nose on his sleeve the pigeons peck at spilt food on the street lovers embrace and kiss when they meet a young couple argue about where they should go an old couple look sadly at the carnival show that washes before them like the waves at high tide where the truth is the water but the water lied and the city is a victim in the coils of a snake the people are uncertain is this dream or awake the man on the seat nearby smells of alcohol and sweat his hair is matted his shoes are wet and seagulls circle looking for something to steal from trailing children with chip bags they conceal there’s a dashing young man dressed up to kill and a dazzling young woman sexualised to the hilt a girl sitting on the path is blackened to the core blackened teeth blackened eyes blackened soul blackened jaw the sky it is ruby splattered with pearls of sun setting starlets in blonde locks and curls it’s a festival of side shows coloured and brash where faux credit has all but replaced cash where art is artificial made by machines where the grifters come to realise their schemes a homeless woman drags herself past unstable and slow and I’m ready so ready to go go go
The mountain ahead was a really big deal with trees on its flanks but few flat green fields up on the ridges were sharp flinty stones this was the path I must travel alone all through my young life I believed what they said crossing the mountain was folly many ended up up dead
I dreamed of the mountain most every night in my dreams of the mountain I looked up and took flight over the mountain I did range I did soar over the mountain I sought release from remorse I scoured the slopes and I scoured the crown but I saw little and little I found my dreams fell shattered and broke on the ground I determined I must climb by foot from the town
I wandered for days on flat lands for a time before reaching the base of the mountainous climb the gentle foot hills were covered with flowers the meadows were rich I crossed them in hours the mountain itself was immediately steep the forest was thick the scree cut my feet I had to use switchbacks many miles for a few only meters in altitude gained daily as I drew toward the top of the mountain’s ragged sharp peak in crisp snow and cold air were answers I did seek
I reached the summit with its razor sharp edge I looked on the other side from a dizzying ledge and what did I find on this remote outlook enough for a page enough for a book I found enough to shake me and to realise that my thinking was blinkered by my very own lies
my remorse was false a craven escape from fear of the truth in me now awake I had thought it would be different on the other side but all I discovered was another brutal slide and that I did not need to climb to be true I needed to scramble all the way back down to you to say I am sorry for the harm that I did to understand the hurt that occurred when I fled I am sorry for the struggle the wounds that I gave I beg for forgiveness if there is any to be saved
“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.
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
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
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!
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
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
This river of mud it comes to no good when it spreads on the plains or surges through the woods when it rises in the towns or breaks dams where it would this river of mud is never any good
they throw the mud they make the mud stick weather whether there is mud to throw splattered thin or cement thick and I see the mud it makes me feel sick a vitriolic flood of slander and lies sinking reasonable opposition no due process applies
I write forwards you write back you tell me where we have been where we should be I write of where I’m going to be and you are not a character in that book
poetography.ink 