Oh Rick was young, so full of hopes and dreams.
A boy, not quite a man, a son, a beau
A lad who lived for bikes and mates and schemes
He rode for life, for fun, to fly and flow
His light was bright, his heart was there on show.
So hard he tried to ride his ghosts away
A phantom freak behind the headlamps glow
the need to race, survive and seize the day.

We readied ourselves
the warm afternoon embers burning
down..the clouds white like ash
storytelling time

The first we ever did was dance.
The studio was where we met.
The teacher: I, the student: her.
And Arthur Murray’s was the site

We danced an hour twice a week.
We danced for months until I left.
I’d drunk myself near unto death
and could no longer right remain.

I drank the last check from the shop
and knew the rent was due in days.
What did I care, my life was done
and then she came and took me home.

SKEWERED

Hearts are made to break
eventually
souls are to suffer
their agony
and eyes should never see
more than they can bear
to see.

We saw him lying on the sand.
A message from a ravaged land
that begged the planet understand.
An outstretched hand, an outstretched hand.

A red shirt paired with tiny jeans.
More potent than the war machines,
the sea wiped out that baby's dreams.
A mother keens, a mother keens.

A little body oh so still.
A promised life that's come to nil
escaping shattered vale and hill.
The world is ill, the world is ill.

My aunt was standing on the table top
while screaming out an eardrum-piercing tone.
My mum had raised aloft a dirty mop
and tried to call my father on the phone.
She yelled at us to leave the door, and moaned,
'All stay outside.' - She was in such a state
of increased female-form testosterone,
the day the snake was hiding in the grate.

You don’t even know
How she stays awake at night
Praying that those aiming to destroy you
Fail.

How he wants to be
Everything you ever wanted, but
No matter how hard he tries, he can’t find the
Strength.

How she gives herself
To you entirely, for you to use in
Any manner you want and every time she hates
Herself.

How he is screaming
Inside with the loss of his father
But feels like if it shows he will be seen as
Weak.

Braid your life upon my body
like braille chains
with links weeping sound
like brittle freezing tears
I sense you in your black
marvelous bird
with winds of blonde weathered
down your back
our shutterisland life
banging in the wind
I escape domecile
to the pleistoceon
tar pit lava drone
extinguishing my
manifestations of cave
paint poetry in the
slosh of the magicians
pallor
she peels my paper
on our walls
one layer
at a time
I want too
..