February 11th -knock out knock about wild times

It’s a knock out knock about wild time

a knocking wild ride

exploding imploding decaying busting

burning gasping crashing

bullying buffooning blasting

But even so

in this wild knock out knock about dark dark time

there is inexplicable

undeniable

and

breathtaking

beauty

It is here

and there

everywhere

from a smile to unconscious humming

a bird drying its wings

insects making patterns on the water’s surface

the greeting of a cat or dog

Despair is so easy

to get stuck in

in these pricklingly wild times

so the small beauties

become joyously

amplified

Image by Robert Davis from Pixabay

February 10th - NINE MONTHS WALKING

‘Tis a surprising thing

when justice bites

unexpected justice

but deserved

or perhaps earned

none-the-less

And how we feel

bystanders

innocent

or victim

as perpetrator

gets it

is taken down

in one way or another

In the country the other night

a drunk

climbed into a car

after boozy night

where he had yelled and leched

dropped spilled drooled and dribbled

he climbed in

drunk

spun out of the gallery driveway

sped away into the night

primed to write himself off

or someone else

Bad fairies got him

before he hurt himself

or anyone else

He got nine months walking for drink driving

nine months walking

nine months with no car is a long time in the country

Unexpected justice

bit

in the small town in the country

earned and deserved both

the drunk is the one left most surprised

and the folk from that region

hope

that he won’t pour himself behind a wheel again

hope

that this justice

has lasting effect

for all their sakes

Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay 

February 9th - A man invented

Mate, you know I learnt to bottle it. Learnt the hard way - school of hard knocks - like they call it. And I knew what I didn’t want to do. What I didn’t want to be. Who I didn’t want to be like. They were rough my mob.

I got into fights - a lot of fights. And there’s not one I came out of feeling like “yeah that was good”. Not one. I can fight. Let me tell you. Yes. I can fight. But every time - every single time, when it was done, I’d cry. You might think I’m soft or snaggy but the truth is, the burn of violence, the absolute feeling of being out of control, that stings more than any broken nose or collarbone.

I had to make myself who I am. I had to look - really search - for the man I wanted to be. No decent role models around me - sorry bloody lot.

So I did and I have and I am - I am a man invented. Don’t get me wrong. I feel the rise of rage - starts in my guts. But I know the cost is way higher if I get out of control. I’ve learned to bottle it - put a lid on it - and let it simmer down and go away.

So far - so far it’s been good. But if anything or anyone got between me and my missus or between me and my kids - that would be the test. That would be the big test. That’s not a day I would ever wish for. I reckon though - I reckon that’s normal right? A normal way for anyone to feel, invented man or not. I think I’m pretty normal these days - for a man invented.

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

FEBRUARY 8TH - Ladybird

I watched a ladybird

flying

hither

thither

until

it flew so close and landed

on my nose

So big

blurry

making my eyes cross

in an effort to see

losing all detail

perspective

I could no longer make sense of it

I wonder

what the ladybird is

on my nose

everyday

that is lost to me

I hope

that if I can’t see it

that I might be able to feel it

in some way

or hope

that a friend

or

a stranger

points it out to me

Most of all

I hope

that I am able to -

once it’s been observed

pointed out

by another

- I hope I can perceive it

and choose

let it fly away

hither and thither

into the wind

Image by Filip Kruchlik from Pixabay 

FEBRUARY 7TH - away away apart away

It’s time

again

to leave

to end

you I we

part

away away part and away

for a time

some time

a time uncertain

ill-defined

unknown

maybe all-time

I’m not sure

a horrible freedom

the gift of this parting

I may as well have lost

my rib cage

but

I still breath

you still breath

probably

I imagine you do

wherever you are

whatever you are looking at

I breath walk breathe observe

the world changed-unchanged

you too

probably

I think

I’d imagine

perennial ending

parting

provides

I suppose

I guess

more room for me to swing my arms

(without the rib cage it’s much easier)

until

maybe

I hope

time brings - if not you

back

a sense of peace and place

with parting

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

FEBRUARY 6TH - Pancake Quiz

If your head was a pancake

would it be flat?

or

would you have it upright

medallion-like perched upon your neck?

This seems an insignificant question

but it is one

that divides us

deeply

So make your decision…

If you’ve opted for flat

then you have created space for a variety of toppings and spreads

lemon and sugar

nutella and cream

butter and jam

as classic examples

flat means diversity

you can dress it up or dress it down

but visibility and being noticed is highly dependent

on how you’ve dressed it

Upright, medallion-like perched upon your neck

a totally different beast

so many considerations

which way does the pancake rim face?

across the shoulders?

belly to back?

or have you a revolve collar that allows it to change

a pancake body-part weather-vane?

I believe

firmly

that those who opted for flat

are the more relaxed of us

possibly more social

a bit flirty at times - depending on the dressing

maybe a little insecure - superficially that is - needing affirmations

such as

Your cream topping looks fabulous

or

Nice jam

Those who opted for upright

different breed entirely

alert, focussed ready to go, types

we all need an upright in a crisis

the person who can steer the ship to shore

although

upright can be

uptight

a little less relaxed

a little bit of a pancake stress-head

occasionally - and I mean this sincerely - occasionally

a bit neurotic

but

if you are upright

medallion-like pancake perched upon your neck

then a medal you deserve for your vigilant steadfastness

So this question

If your head was a pancake

you may not have taken too seriously

to start with

but it is clear

very clear

who is who and what is what

if you take the time

to think about it

FEBRUARY 5TH - Too far now, just so far, further than I thought.

RYAN

Hey, excuse me. Sorry - can you help? I can’t quite work out where I am. I trying to find my way to Polytechnic - I start today. Design - landscape design course. First year. Start today. There’s about 20 minutes before my first class and I really wanted to get there early. I want to clean up before I head in. Make myself vaguely presentable. I rode from St Kilda on my trick bike. Wasn’t expecting it to take this long. Seemed like a good idea at the time - to ride. But…bit of a way from St Kilda.

That’s the thing, right. 12 kilometres from St Kilda - you’d reckon that’s be easy enough right? I got myself into this one for sure. I will have to rethink my commute for tomorrow at least. It’s pretty far. Further than I thought.

Anyway - do you know the way?

KATE

She was behind me - a bit of a distance away - not too far. I had my back to her and I just - sensed - something was up. I turned and went to her and her eyes had gone dull. It wasn’t a snakebite - we weren’t in a snakey area. It could have been a spider, but something told me it was something else.

There was this guy. Big. Footballer-big - who appeared out of nowhere and picked her up. And she wouldn’t normally do that - snips at strangers. He carried her like a baby to my car and I was running along beside with my other little dog. I got her to the emergency vet, but she wasn’t good. The vet looked at me and said she’s not good. Gone into shock. Wrapped her in heat blankets. I held her and sang True Colours - you know, Cindi Lauper. I know it’s corny but I sing this to the two of them every night. And then, as I was singing, she just - died. Such a shock. Such a shock. I was singing True Colours to her when she went.

I just wonder if I’d kept her by my side - If I had not left such a distance. If I’d not let her get too far away - if this would have happened? I’ll never know I guess.

They can get too far from you and then you can’t do anything to help.

I’m not going to let this little fella here go too far now.

Not game.

MEG

They are all out of primary now. The last one is off to high school. She starts today actually. I have three. The middle one is in Year 11, and my eldest, he finished last year. He applied to universities all over. Science. He got in actually. James Curtin - He is going to move to Perth to study.

To be honest I’m in a little bit of shock at the moment. I never thought I’d ever worry about my kids leaving home and now… Now my eldest is about to go.

Perth. It’s just so…far. It’s so - unexpected. To feel like this. Is this normal do you think? People have said that it’s hard when they leave, but it’s one thing to hear about it in the abstract and another to face it. And Perth is just so far! This isn’t really a club I wanted to join - not yet anyway.

It’s just so far.

Image by Siggy Nowak from Pixabay

FEBRUARY 4TH - 8 Years

You purr in your sleep

others may snore

whereas

you

are a giant cat

a soft purr-fur whiskered-warm cat

purring-eye closed

asleep

Each day heralds a new big idea

a dream

so many - so beautiful

I never know which to pursue

so I wait to see which one may stick

then we can follow it together

A person of few words

but when it is time for you to speak

we all listen

(although you normally preface speaking with an unconscious cough so we know the big thought - the pragmatic or philosophic pearl is about to drop)

I feel like a popcorn machine who lives beside a glass of peaty whisky

Off to work in daily Yakka-tradie work clobber

a blokey-bloke - tough indeed

but the morning ritual

a spray of Italian perfume

which subtly exudes from beneath the Yakka

must be a workplace surprise

for those with a nose

Your melancholy

it makes me laugh - I know, that’s mean, but it’s true

a perpetual sense of sorry, decay and loss

the end of the world is coming

the soundtrack to this must be The Lark Ascending

or anything by Arvo Pärt

your dreamscapes and fears of decay

are full of imagination and mystery

they make me wonder and see the world differently

You’ve taught me how to appreciate delicate things

I watch you study a piece of old lace or needlework

or crystal glassware

or something finely forged - like the petals on a bronze rose

your hands are so big (but your eye is so fine)

everything you handle looks small

and so fragile

Your laugh, your joy, your day

and night

all of it

are a delight

and every year

being with you

just gets better

FEBRUARY 3RD - His life in mine

This little beast

big beast really

follows me about like a shadow

a great hairy mammoth of a shadow

when I pause

wherever I am

he breathes beside me

when I walk

wherever I walk

he stays as close-by as he can

but as he’s older olding ageing

he can’t follow me up the stairs like he used to

and sometimes

not at all

he can’t make the stairs at all

He doesn’t tell me if he aches and pains

although I can feel-see it if he does

he doesn’t complain of anything at all

except when he carries-on in the car

which is less complaint and more

sheer

ridiculous

ear-splitting

excitement

As he has done for me

I too

am for him

kind

unerring

and constant

at least I’m trying to be

in my beastly human ways

I know this may be his last Summer

(although I thought that last Summer too)

this anticipation of his lasts

the bookend to all the firsts

makes my love all the more conscious

though

even as a puppy

I knew

that this birth would be a death

that I would probably outlive him

but - it - his life in mine

is totally, utterly, unquestionably

worth it

February 2nd - The Launch

A brass bell sounds as the last of them are clambering aboard

in raggle-taggle finery

raggle-taggle jostling for status

oh the Hoi Polloi

Somewhere in the bowels of this great iron boat a fight has broken out

up on deck - oblivious - the assembled admire the views as they discuss the art

trying to make sense if it

and his life - the artist

seeking evidence of his gone-life

gone-mind

in his paintings

Uproar down in the bowels continues

the Overweight Flautist attacks the Haughty MC

she thinks she knows it all in her fancy taffeta sea-green frock

Mr Lighting-Knighting steps in

disarming the affray

the Overweight Flautist is nervous

shifting side to side

from foot to foot

in his comfortable shoes

Hauty-Tauty leaves the scene to mingle with the Hoi Polloi

the King - Kingly-King - and she meet, exchanging kisses

they are true friends

Mr Lighting-Knighting remains in the bowels with the Overweight Flautist

who has begun to sweat

as Wayne-the-Pain (self defined nomenclature)

begins what is to become a full-blown lewd episode

which will last for hours

as he drinks too much and nicks up to the quarter deck for a whacky-dart

all too frequently

muttering about frogs arseholes and women he’d like to fuck

Kingly-King, the King of the land with his great grey-orange beard and twinkling blue eyes

has had a haircut

steady-of-foot on the land - less sure on the iron ship

as it lurches

with scuffles and fights breaking out below deck

Kingly-king and Hauty-tauty lead the Hoi Polloi to the Overweight Flautist and the concert begins

Wayne-the-Pain sits outside the galley smoking, muttering, swearing

I’d fuck a fish if it had tits

as the flute takes off in spectacular flight

(who knew the flautist had it in him?)

The Overweight Flautist goes on for too long

Kingly-king pulls at his beard as the audience’s feet shift and jiggle

some children sneak out

mobile-phone lights glow from the back rows

illuminating ghost-blue faces

less bored than the faces at the front

of the people who don’t want to be rude

who have to sit on their hands

bums itching to leave

smiling with ache and applauding at the end of each song

hoping it’s the last

When it all ends

it’s all done

Haughty-Taughty and Kingly-King talk in the carpark as the people drift away home

Mr Lighting-Knighting puts his arm around Haughty-Taughty Who knew they were on?

Kingly-king confesses that Wayne-the-Pain is on the out-and-out and the Overweight Flautist used to be slender

What happens to us?

he tugs at his beard and ponders

He used to be slim. What happens to us?

the Overweight Flautist passes by with his flute in one hand and a sweat-wet ‘kerchief in the other

It went very well I think - I’m pretty sure they loved it

He goes to man-shake the pink hand of Haughty-Taughty

she turns her head to look at an imagined star

she’ll none of him - and none of that sweaty ‘kerchief

Kingly-King breaks the impasse

All-in-all it’s been a good night my friends

a very good night

We will all be here

all of us

this time next year again

we’ll see you here

all of us

we will all be here again

Image by Dimitris Vetsikas from Pixabay 

FEBRUARY 1ST - If only I could bend like that

In the storm - strong storm

standing outside - watching

(some night say foolishly)

trees

driven by gale-like bluster-like wind

blowing all and sundry

sideways

so it feels like looks like

in the gale-like bluster

an underwater land

where a giant silver-blue fish may curve through a swirling gum-branch

darting to pinch-pick-up a morsel from the dirt-sand-howling ground sea-bed

Watching - standing

this flex of the trees (with imagined fish)

held - deep-rooted

knowing the know-know of the snap and crash and brittle

a branch that might bluster-blow brittle

so very human

so very very human

blown - brittle

uprooted by a gale

How lovely it would be

if I - we

all

could bend like that

flex and might - anchored so firm

a branch might bluster-blow brittle

but the brittle-blown can re-grow

Only the mightiest of gale-bluster storms

the very mightiest

can take us down

this -

or old age

which will get the trees - and us too

us little human-beings

in the end

no matter how much we bend

I may not bend forever

but hope to always have the eyes

to see a giant silver-blue fish

curving, darting through a swirling gum-branch

swimming through the trees

Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

JANUARY 31ST - I gotta go

I know that what we’re doing here is important. I know that what we’re working on is going to make a difference to the company. To your career. To my career - maybe. Our careers. Maybe. Probably. Yes.

I realise what we are doing has a huge impact. And when I say huge I mean, to you. Your life. Well part of it. Well to your work. Well some of your work. Not all of your work, granted. But a significant portion. Really. Yes. Probably

I know that what we’re working on is really, very, very, good. Good for business, good for me, good for you. Commerce. Commerce is the word that should be used in this instance I believe. Maybe. Probably. Yes. Definitely.

Or maybe it’s economics?

Anyway. I know it matters. And I take it very seriously because I know it matters.

Soooo. Anyway. The thing is. I must go.
You’re not gonna believe me when I tell you this but I really have to. Something’s come up. Something – well – something BIG.

The truth of the matter is that I know that you take your career, your work, who you are, how you appear iand all that, very very seriously. But the truth of the matter is that - well, the truth of the matter is that - You’re not gonna believe me when I tell you this but - My brother just had a baby. Yes. A baby.

A baby. A real, live, pink, wet, hungry, little baby.

This is real. I just got a text message telling me that he has had a baby. So, you know I love you, you know I believe in what you’re doing and who you are and all the important things. Commerce. Economics. All this. But I gotta go. I just gotta.

The beautiful little wet squirming new life calls and I gotta go. Now. Right now .

I’m an Aunty.

JANUARY 20th - FRIDA

I don’t know you – nor you me

we meet by accident  by routine

you tell me your story

you walk with me – take my path

a farther walk

to tell it – the story – in full detail

I hear the detail

I imagine where you have been – when I don’t know it

I relive it – when I do

I follow your story without  intrusion  emotion   reaction

I hope

The story – of a descent into chaos

a state where not any of the ordinary rules – not one

applies

and in this state

this chaos

on top of it all

your young dog attacks your old dog

viciously

you now mistrust her – the dog

or perhaps

your own faith in your judgement

But this sorry story is more than dogs

the dogs just cap it all off

for you

a summation of a period of time

where nothing is what it seems

As you walk beside me

I observe your pace and in fact

I find

that I walk

beside you

Your breathing changes – is it the incline?

and although a stranger

I dare to place my hand on the middle of your back

and hope

hope

that you can make sense of this sorry mess soon

Image by Lindasay from Pixabay

Jan 19th - Time to share the bed

Back in ye olde very long time ago time

’twas the time when Kings ate white bread and turduckens and sweetmeat

for breakfast lunch and tea

and snacks

While in the kitchens and sculleries

everybody else  – you and me – the peasants

except all of those who are royal Kingly things

dined on the lentils and beans and wholegrain left overs

these were one grade above swine fodder

back in ye olde very long time ago

So the Kingly kings were corpulent kingly

and hence

King-sized beds were born

for the corpulent kingly kings ate their turducken and sweetmeats

for breakfast lunch and tea and snacks

necessitating giant-giant beds

(and caused premature heart disease and diabetes but this story is not about that)

(not at all about that)

Now you and I

in our pleasant-peasant ways

with our peas and lentils and whole-grain everythings

just one grade above swine fodder

the lucky ones in this lucky country

lucky for now

have a Queenly bed

huge – not Kingly huge but huge none-the-less

lucky for us

lucky for now

It might be time to share the bed

take a saw out and lop a side off

a side of bed

and plant it in the earth

(we can do that – it’s biodegradable)

(we can do that – it’s all-natural)

To make a new world bed

that grows seeds and wholegrainess and beans

for the birds and the animals

for the people too

A bed that flourishes and shares

the good things for all of us

peasants kings and birds alike

breakfast lunch and tea and snacks

from the earth  for the earth  of the earth

in our  from our  lopped-up  queen-sized  earth-bound bed

Jan 18th- When the rest of the world walks out

There is a pea in my shoe. It has been there for some time now. More than minutes. More than hours.  I would say, by now, it’s been three days. Yes, three days I’d say.

I was going to take my shoes off carefully at bed time on the first night but decided against it. I took only one shoe off. The shoe without the pea. I slept with one shoe on that night and one shoe off. I was a little restless but it was ok, in the grand scheme of things.

Last night I eased the shoe off and checked the pea. It was there inside the shoe. It wasn’t squashed. I left the pea exactly where is was. I slept without the shoe on my foot last night. I had the shoe close by, next to the bed. I covered the opening of the shoe with a sock. I did this to stop mice. I slept better last night than the night before, I would say.

Today I went for a walk with the pea in my shoe. I put it under the arch of my foot so it wouldn’t squash. I wore thick – almost spongy – socks for the same purpose. It’s been warm today, so heating the pea in my shoe has been a risk, but one well worth taking, I’d say. Yes, a risk – but worth it.

It’s a nice feeling – a comfort. Having a pea in your shoe is a nice feeling. “Pea as friend is a good friend indeed” as the saying goes. A real friend I’d say.  A pea in my shoe is a good friend indeed. That’s my interpretation of the saying anyway. One who arrives when the rest of the world walks out. In the grand scheme of things, I have something I can depend upon. Yes. I can say that for certain. Yes.

Image by Ashih Choudhary from Pixabay