Dapple light falls

Wind rustles the leaves in the trees

Such exquisite beauty to lose

All I Have

You thought I’d forgotten you?

How could I,

You are all I have.

Writer's Block

The well is dry

My brain still click clacks away

Echoes in the void

Apologies

I apologise to my poetry blog

Nothing good is coming from this poor sod

Everything I write is crap, I don’t know why

My lack of brilliance makes me want to cry.

And then I apologise to everyone I have ever known

Hoping that might make a difference to what I’ve done

To all the people I have upset, ignored, or made to feel bad

Maybe that might make the world better and my writing grand

You know, in case karma is an actual thing,

And being kind makes a difference to everyone

As though my dark sense of humour and wherewithal

Doesn’t make my creativity and writing stall.

Too Much Of A Coward

I’m too much of a coward to suicide, 

Sore neck, sore gut, sore wrist, choking, suffocating, no thanks.

It is probably good, because if I was brave

I could be dead.

I have to think about that,

yes, I do, cause that could be,

a thing, yes it could, there

but for the grace of the universe, I go.

And how would that be?

Would anyone be talking about me cowardly?

No, it would be, why did he do it?

Why did we not see it, they’d say.

But what does cowardly look like,

did they ever think it looked like me?

Hiding in plain sight, as they say,

before I went mysteriously away.

Breathe Again

My dog takes a crap in the doorway of one of those new blocks of flats,

that have spread through our suburb like the AIDs virus

spread through the community of men who like to have sex with men

way back there in the 1980s, as this chick comes out the doorway, 

and she turns and purses her lips, and I think puts her hands on her hips,

or did she point, with her nose hoisted into the air as if attached to a crane,

and says, “Do you mind cleaning that up, as it’s right in the doorway?”

She didn’t say that in a polite way, no she did not,

– as if there is a polite way to say clean up your shit – 

but in a demanding, the world revolves around her kind of way.

And I am, actually, standing there trying to open the pooh bag with my fingers,

I am struggling to separate the two layers of green biodegradable plastic,

and, Huh, bitch? What you say? Goes through my head, as I look at her,

and my lips start to form those very words to say to her, as I gaze at her rat face.

But I stop myself because I have learned that, perhaps, a filter is best,

when dealing with the very clearly entitled, it is all about me, types.

And I mumble something like, “Of course, I am going to do that.”

And I stop myself from telling her to proceed with her day and not to worry about me,

in two words that I think are very clearly able to convey my meaning succinctly.

And I think - even though I think that cleaning up dog shit, 

which is perfectly organic and biodegradable without us sliding it into a specially design baggie, is stupid - it was probably started by people like her, whose sphincter is the same shape as those pursed lips that are now pointed at me. Has she had them plumped, I think, could they be naturally that shape? 

I do clean it up every time as that is what the world wants me to do.

And I don’t need the embodiment of that nightmare that is people like her,

standing and practically clicking their fingers and demanding it of me, so

I simply smile, and I think my face is betraying me, but it is probably best,

just as those two layers of recalcitrant green plastic separate between my fingers, and I look down, and I complete the job at hand, as though I wasn’t interrupted by anyone. And when I look up again she has gone, and I am pleased. I stop mumbling under my breath. And I start to breathe again.

Boys & Girls

Girls are, perfume, soft hair. and friends. 

Boys are, performance art, physically equal mates

Girls are, matters of the heart

Boys are arm wrestles and farts

Girls are rub around your leg cats

Boys are sniff your arse dogs,

Girls are chiffon cake with forks,

Boys are beer and nuts dropped on the floor

Girls are, kale and spritz

Boys are punch in the arm hitz

Girls are sisters and friends

Boys are arseholes and cocks.

Girls smell like roses and talc

Boys smell like used shaver stubble and cigarettes.

Girls are sugar and spice

Boys are snails and puppy dog's tails.

Girls are sticklers for consent

Boys are do whatever you want

Girls you have to take your time to fulfil their needs

Boys are do it to you in the street

Long walks after dark,

 Play footy in the park,

 Hold conversations,

 Tell tall stories,

 make logical sense,

 Drink until you want to fuck,

 talk until you feel safe

 walk away after, no regrets

 call up and reassure.

 Make a mess.

Leave confused

Don't look back.