I saw them rain clouds —
In the far-off distance.

So I went about my day;
Flipping and fleeting,
Bopping and bleating,
Swiping and sweeping.

Until they were overhead —
And didn't they get me then!

Poetry should  be taught —
But it's better to be tried.

Poetry can be taught;
But it's better to be lived!

About turn,
Face fear —
Discern, and
Have faith  —

No more looking
To the left and to the right,
But investing right where you are —
In You and realising in Your love.

I’m ready,
For a new season of faith,
Less heady,
And more heart.

Delving deeper,
Within Your loving embrace —
No longer a sleeper,
But expansively awake!

Truly present in life,
And Your love.

Like a work horse,
My body feels worn.
I can’t turn the soil
Of life everyday..

I think I need to be euthanised..
Or at least hibernate
for the weekend.

Painkillers eaten like skittles..

Four varieties of woes..
My body the water,
The pills skimming
Across my Pain threshold..

Hidden disabilities,
a hide an seek of explanations.
You ill today.. sighs..
I’m Forever Sighing,
At the ignorance of others

There's no fear of others
if one fears not of their own self
it's the lack of faith of the person
that has created this dilemma

“For the longest time I thought the letters for tiddy sizes was like the grade system. Kept asking myself what’s the big deal about d’s? Those are below average tiddys! But I totally get it now.”

-Stevie Wonder (2003)

Living
if  you call it living

vicariously
through  you

a passenger on  every
trip

where
you always drove

~
Tonight underneath debris
Family foreclosure
...
Heaven's legs dawn through window
Offer artificial hope
...
Employee to love
Dressed for escape
...
Pleasure town angel
A multi-colored pretty thing
...
Mom questions way
Daughter drives to parties
...
Empty lips talk
**** reflection patterns
...
Death inside mom and dad
Beautifully cold skin
...
War god kiss
Midnight blue people (at dinner table)
...
Young shadows flower
Final stars fire
...
Money born cloud
Raining on remnants of family
...
Is there nothing
Left to mortgage?
~

A Matisse-painted sky
dawning this morning,
So that I could peer,
seeing, Rembrandt-esque
Trees lining the Murray River
crossing the bridge that joins my two towns:
“Twin Cities” Albury and Wodonga.
Banksy’s streetscapes then brought me into reality:
work time —
Who paints that?!

How is it that the bath gets cold,
Yet, my love for them never gets old!