Another Leaf

I'm making amends
That harsh sound, like a dentist drill
Driving you round the bend
Or singing in the shower
At all ungodly hours
It was, how did you say?
Like holding a spoon in the kitchen sink
And banging it away.

But I'm setting right
For bad behaviour
Standing in shadows of your favours
Done for this and that
They add up, a thousand marbles on a camel's back
I've broken it all, so I'll pay the price
To glue each little crack
Because I'm making amends
How do you like the sound of that?

She speaks with intangible smiles
So I sit and stay a while
In a world framed between fingertips
Cupped like drink against dry lips
Tomorrow's to intoxicating to ponder.

It isn't illegal to wander memory lane
But sometime the nights are crystal clear
Against the lounge room window pane
I can't help but stray to where
Dreams don't tear assunder.

Sometimes we are frequently only as evil as the man next door
And slightly less godly than we were before

It's like the drain at the bottom of the sink
Is never plugged
So my brain never has time to fill up.

Gone, it's a conchord dawn
Lights up the skies so full of surprises
Light as a feather thief
Two hands-one clap beneath
Pastels and washed out waters
Paints of mankinds daughters
A fist full of sunset
And a pocket full of sky.

Today looks like

The overzealous grip of rubber on paper
Cicadas singing in the sun, homage to friction
Knowledge filtered through a cheese grater
A student smiling aimlessly, lost and happy.
Artificial light at war with shadows
Left skulking in corners by a relentless sun
Work hanging over, the headsman's axe
Razor sharp to snicker snack
Contrasting dulcet tones squeezed through walls too thin
Another teacher hard at work.

Screaming freedom
The man in the rain
Hung out to dry
Gestures like fountains
Words like mountains
Screaming freedom
A man with no voice
And no audience
But the oncoming traffic.

As the jigsaw slides together
Flocking like birds of a feather
Tomorrow's grin melts from faces
Tiredness taken through its paces
Ignorance is never bliss
But passes well enough given the alternatives.

No ghosts allowed
On hallowed ground
The shallow sound
It's sinking
We're thinking
Like brains of the sun
Bullets from a gun
The short straw isn't fun
It's blinking
And letting the blurr slide.

Easy rider make the vacation last all day
Forgiven, forgotten, you pass on your way
Two truths for the price of one
Living on and being done
Into the candle flames, flicker and ticker
Not a trick of the light
A flight of the fancy
Freedom pouring from the glass
Now that you feel free
You're wrong
You've gone off the rails.

Breathe in, breathe out
Tomorrow's much the same
Tree house truth
We hang in the air
A hairs breadth
It smells like freedom.

Sofa-loving selfsubstanciator
Lose some weight boy, or feed the gator
Point the finger shoulder blame
Hold your finger to theflame
Liposuction size reduction
You come out looking just the same.

Radiohead paints a diamond
Lodging in my throat
Harmonies of loss
A lattice in my ears
And I'm reminded of...

Harmony's twin
She smiles like the stars
Distant, cool beautiful
Fingers coaxing sweetness
From ivories carried beyond their limits
Waterfalls of laughter
Welling from memory
So far, so long
Only,
Good byes are for friends

I'm sorry, we're all stocked up on crazy here. Why don't you try another house down the street?


The man bent the spoon with the power of his hands.

And she smiles for me.
A punch-drunk symphony
Two worlds colliding
In thunder and lightning
And me holding a candle up
To see the stars.

By the time I got to doing
It was half-past way too late
If I had a dime, for every time
I was last one through the gate
I'd need to go to the bank and exchange it for New Zealand currency.

Hah.

I am Freestyling.

Softlyspoken have a token
Of humility under that shirt
I ply wood and take tank tops
Till worth is multiplied with worth.

Punch a hole in the earth,
Brickabrack. The tittilations of
A roundhouse kick, past insanity
I was awake before they woke me up

Salvation runs in tides
Besides which I'm not more than half
At any given time
There are more thoughts in my brain
Than my head can hold.

One year on. The same man
In similar clothes, if a bit warn
Like his face, his smile
Crinkles round tired eyes
As though more thoughts crowd behind
Than there used to be.
Laughter? Not so many
Not so much drained as conserved
Left in glass jars for a rainy day
Or an eartquake to shatter tranquil medium.

One minute on. Glancing at a watch
Black matte plastic and scratched window
Ticking away the countdown of life
Solid, reliable; the man he wanted to be
There's more money jingling in pockets
And more cares jumbled in his head
But he's the same man. Similar at least.