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“Change happens by listening and then starting a dialogue with people who are doing something you don’t believe is right.”  -Jane Goodall

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Rootless tree

 

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Stubborn stains

 

I lift a finger

Just

Because you always said I wouldn’t

Take infinite care over anything that will

Prove you wrong

You were my harshest critic

And you never even knew me

Not this me

 

The finger hangs in the air

Pointing at nothing

I’ve forgotten it

Lost now in bitter reveries of

All those

Ancient condemnations

My arm grows tired

Complains

And I lower that protesting finger

And wonder who I’m really angry at

I’m getting worried it may start pointing my way.

 

 

 

 

Words and image are my own

©2018

 

 

Lifetime supply

 

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Stasis and flow

The philosophy of being

Staying true

The science of belief

Sensing almost nothing is

We stare into a dying sun

Shield our eyes from its deceptive light

And hold on to anything

We do not know

Because not knowing

Still holds potential

While knowing

Keeps us always where we are

Not one step further

Down the track.

 

 

 

Words and image are my own.

©2018

Boogaloo down Broadway

 

Over the river

 

A rusty new sky

Being birthed

Over sleepy silhouettes

But I’m not sleeping

Oh no

I am moving towards you

Making my way back

To you

To the place where light

Dances

And long shadows conceal

To reveal

To the streets that

Vibrate

Underfoot

And the lines that stretch upwards

Towards convergence

Where green comes in sharp bursts

And the light of beauty

Duels playfully

With crass neon seductions

That never sleep

And I am not sleeping

No

I am making my way back

To you.

 

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Words and images are my own.

 

©2018

The weight

 

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Shiny

 

 

The oldest thing

Inside my head

Is a small

Black

Stone

A pebble really

Shiny

And so very black

It is made of all the things that happened to me

Before

Long before I even knew me

All the pain

Sorrow

Confusion

Compressed into one

Shiny

Black

Stone

I carry it everywhere

Just a pebble really

And I don’t understand

Why I’m so damned

Tired

All

The

Time.

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

©2018

Warning Bell

 

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Misplacements

 

Something stolen

Not difficult to define

Falling symbols

Clanging like a warning bell

An ending locked

Into a darker beginning

 

We tipped over that day

Falling into each other

Eyes blinded

By pyroclastic clouds

Of displaced faith

 

Everything changed

Nothing was spared

Concrete narratives shattered

Became dust

Now we breathe them in

Until we choke

 

Shaken to our very foundations

We stand on our resolve

In an emptier space than we remember

Always wary

Always watched

Something stolen, never to return.

 

 

©2018

A forest

 

 

Respite

 

In the cool deep woods

I meander

Finding spaces

Places where the sun

Creeps in

Inward I ramble

Into the dappled green forest of my mind

Lost in the hum of cicadas

And the trill of unknown birds

Too well hid

The river wanders by me

And I by it

But we can meet only

In the places trees and vines abhor

 

The heron knows

The shadows are best for hunting

Still, she flies eagerly towards the sun.

 

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Words and images are my own.

 

©2018