Stuff in Head at 8 PM of little or no consequence.

It's so hard to be telling
She's pleading and yelling
And finally lets go
Between her two hands
All the blood in the world
Has passed through

See all the eyes patchwork surprise
Of tomorrow and yesterday
Give me a yell and I'll finally tell
Nothing is better than this.

Phleph.

Sorry till Next Time

Hold your fingers to the flames
Fingerwidth of pure pain
Would you do the same again?
Sorry till next time

A week out from Easter
I've fallen down
Sinister revolving chair
Smiles like a frown
Spun me on my head
and so
I've fallen down.


Amazing grace
How sweet to taste
A drink so full and deep
Blood must be spilled
To make me whole
He died instead of me.

She falls like the last step
Every single time

A raindrop tumbling from heaven
Carved and shaped by knives of air
To shatter where the earth and sky
Make a line.

To the Letter.

She holds herself a martyred saint
Calm, clear, aloof
Wingless mortal's freedom dream
Perching on the roof
Furrows line sorrows
Row upon row
Find the eyes that hide the lies
They bleed down wounded cheeks
Stain past and all below.

Holding like an angel
Heaven put a hand on you
Behind flint eyes
There’s no hiding the light

You may live in fog
But you shall dream in rainbows
He who gives the Spark
Gives more than you can burn through.

The bricks are falling into place
Can’t be better than best
Staring back a stranger’s face
You haven’t failed the test
No one survives unbruised
Put your fears to bed.

When the fog clears
You shall dream in rainbows
As sunlight burns the mist
Your eyes sting with tears
Without the grey of rain
You’d never see in colour
Showers rinse the blinds of pain
Till smiles creep and cover.

Angels they have painted hands
You sigh in the sawing breeze
As leaves utter their death rattle
Clinging gasping to the trees
But your nails seem to breathe
Flickering life and colour

Seek light
Surrender to sun-drenched shadows
Fight on in twilight
Sleep through night.

A man held up his thumb
To measure the world
But it was too big for him.

Split Enz Tonight

I was caught up by the strings of evening
As four walls held in sounds straining
To reach the farthest corners of memory
Yesterday's stars bright reclaiming
The beauty of former glory
I was sucked in by the oasic sounds
Of men becoming young again.

Camp great
Poetry was written
Updates eminent. Honest.

It takes blood to wash me clean
But a dead man cannot bleed

Alyssa's Taking Notes in Classroom by the Light of the Summer Sun.

Nobody's dust idled through the window
Light lay dappled on white stained wooden cheeks
Blood drained deep from the constant threat
Of clumsily poured acids, or sustances more evil still
We sat and eyed as shadows claw along the window sill.
Not so much summer on mute in the background
Or the idler child's own scritching sounds (hands of the Devil)
But the tranquilising drone of a man who knows it all.
Somehow we are to blame - too young, too dumb, too innocent
Of bookwork at least. It gets easire to let silence vent
In a subtle trip to nowhere-land for release.
If it weren't for scritch-scratching and the idle hum of teaching
We'd not find ourselves marooned on this far side of sleep
Where eyes and limbs join hands in lengthy cruel dances termed 'notes'
While minds run free a thousand miles off.
Yet summer's dusty breath dies silent on the benches
No one but shadows stir to give either the burial they deserve.
We sense a strange brotherhood, ties of kinship more exotic than blood
Motes of ink drift sporadically on our page, dead to the world
Till we turn the pressed paper leaf and bury it in the past.

Sometimes I run off my mouth
You look at me an only see windows
I spoke and everything went south
Like birds fleeing winter
Sorry about that.

Blank stares
Unawares
No one hears
Trouble flares
No one cares
It seems there's
Faulty airs

Science is no fun.

Late

It's practically done, more or less
Plus or minus it's my best
Effort if you squint and side-eye
It. I'm sure it will get by.

No, no, no. My son, my son
You handed it in before it was done
And you didn't do it till it was due
So penalties and catastrophes
Are falling down on you

Mr Teacher please
Be understanding, be reasonable
I know we can reach agreement
If we lay our cards out on the table.

No, no, no. My son, my son
You didn't do it, it's not done
Reap the whirlwind that you've sown
So next time you'll finish it at home.
Or I'll finish you,

Trip the trapper with another
Shoulder brothers down the river
Be a legend, give a liver
Baby's coming, we deliver
Slip the clapper a clipped food wrapper
If you follow
I am unconcerned.
It takes two to tango
But only one to eat a mango.

With toothy maw and goofy grin,
The jabber-jaw man tumbled gently in
He came to rest, dust clouds and all
By the solid oak desk, more a solid oak wall
While his forehead was pressed
The pain it progressed
Till his brain was aflame
Like a fiery ball
But no sooner stopped, than gleefully started
Flat forehead and oak were ingracefully parted
With toothy maw and goofy grin
The man tumbled out as he'd tumbled in.

everyone smile for the crocodile
fanta freedom for all
pin a grin to the donkey's chin
while I dance my sugar high
there is a rumpus at the shopping mall.