The last one of the year, in any case. Goodbye, 2014.
It took about a week to draw, but it’s finally finished… or maybe not.
I don’t even know anymore. MY EYES
I met this white man once in Europe, and have since kept him recessed online
to remind me why I think the way I think,
and respect those who I respect,
and revile those
whose words, spat with poison and written in blood
inject hatred, aggression and ignorance into Life.
It detracts from the discourse, the joy of the commune, so it’s time for simple poetry to address the malignancy of fear.
A Land Truly Girt
Shall I remind thee, human
Of our tiny tormented Blue Dot?
Should I iterate that irritations in noses get covered in snot?
Bear with me child;
Collective consciousness is just an airway
and racist dust does not last long; empty cells at the top of a stairway.
In this way you create your own prison
And scream at others to join you inside
Well, I’d much rather breathe in my Freedom
Having power with love in my stride.
See the movement of minds that are more than just matter
Overshadow the shallow dark waters you taint
and they’re cast from a mould that is forged in a mettle
where the torch is so strong that your image is faint
Overcast by the beings who soar high above you
you’re alone with your hatred in shadow on earth
For great heat dissipation takes place when damnation
grows a xenophobe mind in a being since birth.
Malignancy in tongue is more than cancerous to mind
You cannot sit with poison and expect all else to hurt
You’re blessed with eyes and ears and voice but use them all to bind
what could have been a resource in a land that’s truly Girt.
Til you find me one more planet to inhabit as a human
We are all a refugee and cling to life on the crumbling crust.
And these solid plates of agar, floating colonies on liquid
have been moving since Gondwanaland divided up in trust.
This behaviour’s kin to yelling at tectonics down beneath you;
“Get THE FUCK BACK ALL TOGETHER OR I’LL SHOOT YA IN THE CORE!”
No matter how you stamp your foot demanding all this movement,
Friend, you’re just a ball of atoms floating too on an infinite shore.
The robustness of your case to send back queue jumpers to sea
To keep your Straya drunk with fighting whites that’s right for you
Will be vilified, exemplar of the Racist Uptight Knights
and reminds me of a 3 year old I nannied- oh, wait, he was two.
You’re systematic in attacking what you fear will threaten your skin
Oblivious it cheapens all infinity to nought.
If aliens come to harvest some poor human for their sin
You’ll be the first to go my friend, and you can take your Thoughts.
Tis a photo of joy that reminds one to see
Past the murmurs to nudge toward something alive
Being that which connects and collides in a frame
Saturating a feeling of brightness inside
There atoning in wonder; illusioning fear
But you prospect for metals that steel your third eye
Fall upon this small magnet, deem one to be three
For the fourth is enforcing the fort caught engrossed
In my moment of sharing a careful word worn
Wearing waste jarring charred tarry stars from their place
Is a wayside where whey splits from curd and the corn
Found its oily way into good cooking and space
Here you wonder aloud where the crack has been formed
One can plunder light, draining some quiet repose
Lying low, waiting words sweeten rupturing line
To demand mindless maker defeat its caked praise
Ode defining the miners who seek what they find
Bolsters boyishness dearly adhering to rows
Taking weather near hither or thither to be
Coming back to the colour that brightened your sighs
In a thronging sensation; a resounding vibration
Persisting through filters that aid percolation
And a clear conversation, intent on elation
Bringing lingering things to the boiling point nation
Rolling out of the grey where you stay in all day
Reeling back from the black that attacked your old fray
Polling hacks that enraptured the brackish to clay
One can see now how clouds can delight in array
We eat the cows that eat the grass
We mind the cows to eat their ass
We cheat the vows we made to last
We mined the earth in ages past
We beat the chimps to bigger brains
We wine and dine upon the trains
We fleeting people on the plains
We find it’s dry until it rains
We eat the grass and smoke it too
We kind of care but so do you
We sweetly love the food we chew
We pine for more, the lucky few
We treat the earth alike a buyer
We sign a contract: No to Fire
We greet the desert then perspire
We line for food and eat food prior
We earth the cable into ground
We mine the minds that come around
We mirthful creatures safe and sound
We shine when eating from plates round
An artwork in response to an amazing, earthing trip to the Australian desert in 2012.
The photographic prints were blown up, huge, on the wall.
The poem sat by their side,
Not long ago I caught one of Sydney’s iconic ferries to Manly Beach.
The journey there was beautiful; blue skies and sun warmed wooden benches on boat’s bow.
An afternoon passed on the beach, lying still, watching all.
Here the clouds inched over, high above in a non-threatening gesture that spelled to beach-goers “we’re here to delight, not rain on your charade.”
This movement overhead geared towards something brilliant; as temperature was cooling, the sky was only warming up.
Swooping birds bore down on a boardwalk stretch beyond a gargling bay, as I boarded one last ferry, green and yellow floating in wait.
If a silence is golden then the girl standing one deck above me was glowing in rays. Though temptation of ten thousand cameras around us preserved through the pixels and lens, her and I were were the contrast that both used our eyes instead to remember the scene.