Wednesday 28 December 2011

dust of artist past


Dust of artist past.  As time moves on a building stands still, a shadow of its former self.  The beauty and elegance dulled by age and neglect.  The shallowest of breaths as to not alert others of her presence. That this once grand lady be allowed to fade on her terms. Alas, unable to flee from the men who seek to remove her heart.  The very heart that once pulsed life through the bricks and mortar like veins... Darkrooms used as storerooms. Playhouse now warehouse. Playwrites lament for they know its not right. The birthing suites of such creativity now abused and left for dead.  The art forms which began their journey here have journeyed on and scarcely think to look back.  Abandoned.  Surviving on the memories of glory past though slowly losing her battle as she chokes on box upon box of stuff.  

Thursday 24 November 2011

gather and glow


I saw angels looking down from above at a dark and barren land.
Then a small light began to glow where believers were gathered in worship. 

Friday 28 October 2011

writers block


songs scribbled on napkins, scrap paper.  prophetic thoughts forgotten in shoeboxes. lyrics that linger in the corner of the mind, longing to connect and come out, see the world. consciousness that clears in the blur of sleep and wake.
real and unrecorded. lost with the rise of the sun.

Thursday 13 October 2011

why we will the sun away.

As a kid, playing cricket in the backyard after school, we would despise the sun for leaving us as the shadows grew long on the ground; it meant packing up and going inside.  Friends would be collected by their parents and our day would be done.

As I have gotten older my relationship with the sun has shifted.  Although I still enjoy everything it has to offer, life, warmth, vitamin D and the freedom to play cricket (though I don’t), I have discovered a different kind of freedom offered by the moon.

In the near darkness old friends sit around staring at fires, reliving stories no one else would understand.  We don’t even have to speak for it to become a cherished memory.  We are together. That is all we need.

New friends meet in the shadows.

We feel safe to say the things we dare not utter in the light of day, when our expression is there for the world to see.  Fingers search in the silence until they graze and linger, then entwine.  Stomachs knot and cheeks blush.  We will the sun to stay away so we can stay in this moment that we will never have again.


“In the morning I’ll regret staying up this late I bet.
But for now I’m fine cos I’m with these friends of mine.” Carl Jackson

Tuesday 11 October 2011

sorrow vs joy

Is sorrow a stronger emotion than joy
if our eyes puff but our lips not be made to swell?

Wednesday 28 September 2011

sky fell

The sky held out as long as she could.  A strange mix of day and night hung in the air.  Then one drop escaped and fell to the ground.  Soon the dry earth seemed but a distant memory as she lost all control and the clouds applauded the spectacle. 

Wednesday 21 September 2011

let your light



We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark;
 the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. 
Plato 

Tuesday 23 August 2011

go


Recently I have been feeling lost in familiar places.  I have had it suggested that I might be experiencing some spiritual discontent.  They may be onto something.

It is a good thing that skill level, experience, finances, time zones and oceans mean nothing to God.  Being willing to go means a lot to Him though.

Monday 22 August 2011

this


I don’t want to talk,
The sound will make me crack.
Your glassy eyes are enough,
I caused them, it’s too much.

I dropped it
You carried it soo close
But I dropped it

You didn’t see it coming,
Thought I was just as careful.
The crash was so loud,
Shattered pieces on the ground.

I dropped it
You carried it soo close
But I dropped it.

Saturday 20 August 2011

if she could


proof of life

Though the audience of this may never grow to where two numbers stand side by side in solidarity and proclaim that there is something of worth hidden amongst the words, I will write this as though to you, but for me. 

I have told them before, though not enough, that I am constantly blown away by the creativity and talent of my friends.  Song, spoken word, written word, film, photography, paint.  Being around them makes me excited about the potential to form something that will live on as proof of our time together, and that we lived.