we are art party

we are
hearts
together simply
floating weather systems
attracted by static electricity
and deliberately awesome
intercity lives

we are
a family
of many different melodies
a harmony of bells and teeth
relief from
all
that
apathy

we are
loving
the sharing the openness
glaring at you
as if it was the easiest thing
a bowerbird might not sing
but he's an artist
in
his
own
space

we are
part of that shining galaxy
that winding road of finality
and while we shine
shooting through the sky
we light up
someone's
night
for
a
time

we are
the womb bats
the onesie rats
the puddle of cuddles
and huddle of hats
we are
brother and lovers
sister souls and crew,
you're all a part of me
and I
a
part
of
you

Reggie Scootin' Smith

you could be holding
the oldest
microphone
the boldest sounds spilling over the lips
of the mouth of the
sacred river

you

you could be shuffling along
to your favourite tune,
crooning that song like you've
never belonged
anywhere else

you

you could be
curled into your baby
this collection of maybe strings
tugging at all of our everythings
as you take us
back to the day
when we lifted our hats
to our ladies

you

you could be dancing with me
i answer your gesture with a blush
and rush to kiss that
blessed cheek

you

you could make the worlds fall for you
like the sun falls for the moon
you could make the master kneel
the student learns the even keel
and reach that courage deep
feel the heavy of your fear
you, my dear, are a dream

you

you are everything
and
then
some

A poem by a friend - humbled.

Jessie ray,

That is to say a name.

It is a chosen mark,

A tattoo of sunshine permanent,

A rise imprinted on the body we see,

But also a sign of sun  beneath.

Ray you project grapples of your own brand,

These violently pierce selected targets unexpected,

Then wind them in to form a web of people.

Beautiful people wound together,

From which there is no escape.

A ray reaches outward from the origin,

A tether to the source,

And a path by which a return is possible.

A ray is at both the center and distant limits,

Grounded and yet clasping at the sky.

So be what you are ray,

Be the day and the night,

Be the plus and the minus,

For that’s where electricity is born.

But more so, be ray right now,

Because now is what we have, ray.

universe

this may be a
s i l l y
a n a l o g y
but i have often stubbed my toe
kicked a stone, or wall,
stumbled, fallen and cursed,
while i was busy looking up at the universe

now i'm pretty
c l u m s y
at the best of times,
especially when i'm looking
up
at
the
sky
truth be told,
even if i'd been looking down
i'd have fallen over anyway

when my mind trips i think of
my ability to see beauty
that i
must
look up
to see the very proof of                     this
keep one eye on the
h o r i z o n
and climb that gaze to the endless
press on through muddy bruise
after muddy bruise
with chin pointed way up high
cos you might as well see the world
as you're on your way to die

and

aren't

we

all

?

we laughed maniacally
in a hub of concrete and carpools
do you remember when you sighed to me
that you thought we'd lost our marbles
?

the silver lining to a cloud
like the rainbow to the rain
a fleeting glimpse
of happiness
in the moments between
thunder
and
pain
but we chose to stay here
thats all that matters to me
cos another day we stay
means
another day we're
f   r   e   e

every leaf dies love
but they live in a prism of light
rather than be a weeping willow
let us aspire to be
the eucalypt
a phoenix
a baptism
of fire
fighting

modestly epic poem

Perspective is a privilege that
the vulnerable know well
a tired eye smiles
at many versions of hell
avoided

the blessings picked
out of the mess
dried tears upon the bedsheets
points of stars
like shiny scars
against the toughness
of the dark
ten thousand times over

there have been days
i stand in a pit
at the bottom of a
wishing pond
others tossing
cents at me
each strike a muted
branch
break a brain or two for peace

I stand with strands of cotton wool
Hide my nursing hands
Embarrassed

separate your lashes
from the fire
pocket ashen memories
in sentimental honour
what is left of us
when the mystery dies

we each are
the smallest of victims,
ones who still call for Mother in the moments before
shaking breath
Picked upon by Bully Death
Torn apart at the chest
heaving please
help me get outta this

There have been nights
where i fight off sleep
knowing that time
keeps me living
and the dawn
keeps giving
new days,

I know that moment your
heart does a backflip
landing on its head
where your pulse
breaks a sweat
just by getting out of bed
you're okay
inside whispers
its agony
to get through the day
you're okay

Despite all of it
or because of it
i live

it is becoming
more apparent
that each time i stumble
fall down my Everest
each time i fail despite
trying my very best
I remember
all along
i've been breeding
resilience

f it makes no sense
i'm left with
my violent paint
and angry resonance
Mud caked in my joints
fill my blood up with guilt
forget the life lessons
I'd built into happiness

the world is fucked

i'm not naive enough
to believe
my hugs change
anything
my smile on the street
doesn't help a single refugee
at the window of this
lucky country
my poems don't calm mothers
who's sons are gunned down
or the brothers who felt the size
of the step father's mounting anger
or every woman thats ever
been handled
out of hate instead of honour

my efforts at hope and love
don't change a
goddamn thing

but i will be singing
in the shower
as i wash off all the dirt
I will bring a candle
to your curtain
to show you
a piece of my glowing

I will withstand nah, welcome a deluge
just to see a rainbow arc
I will focus on the goodness
even if this world is fucked

don't think i don't know
how hard it can be
no one ever said
living would be easy
each sneeze echoes a bombing
the broken tiles on the floor
the broken lives of another war
each broken heart or red hot earthquake
the arms of a widow's last embrace
each broken family of violence and lace
each outspoken teen in defiance
facing the mirror
in despair

and the days roll on
the ever rising of the sun
the silent suffering
of everyone
carries on

but i will bring you a candle
we can all warm our hands on
and hug you so tight your thoughts
get choked up
i will point to those
tiny lights
filling the night sky
see the winking wonder of each one
as you drink your bottle dry
keep your eyes up

focus on that space of creation
when the weight of the world
is suffocating
and when you're drowning
and taking your very last breath
i beg you to keep treading water
keep that climbing in motion
an island of hope in
an ocean of sleeping bones
even if that
island is made out of floating garbage
or seaweed
just please, i urge you
to continue to breathe

no one ever climbs a mountain
to stay at the top
they all come on down
they stagger and drop
there's a lot that can kill us
there's so many threats
so chuck a sickie
roll a ciggie
put your feet up
catch your breath

In a dream someone told me
this world cannot be fixed
the beauty is in
the dripping blood
falling in love with
its gravity

waking up i see
we exist so fucking briefly
lives filled to the brim with death
so laugh with me friend,
rectify a skydive
Moment
That freedom of
Fuck
Yeh

be soon

daily i float
waiting for
the flare

sick of this
two
    or fro
be/tween no and maybe
in the arms wide open ocean
         swollen wooden plank
         deliberately leaking bucket
i see simple love
while you see an engineer
please build me a life raft
p'raps i'll use it one day
i don't want to see the blueprints though

i'm over it
fitting you to size
with something to stop your drowning
you                    dunk your head in the brine
         are          
                 addicted to salty sinuses

its not what you think,
no
no/t stories
no/t fear of things breaking

born shattered
i find my peace
in the spaces outside
canals and compasses
using my bedsheet as a sail
my gut a rudder

i wish this boat
had an auto/captain

i stopped leaving
blood in the water
for the sharks
           started leaving
           lands of living
sleep, is my drug
has always been my freedom
problem is
i always wake up
when the gull cries
warning of the rocks

end of each minute
punctuated with dripping eyelids
my withdrawals tire me
exhausting diet of
soggy rope
resentful coffees
salt-crusted fingerprints

i realise at last
i am a joke to you,
not a very good one.
something to roll your eyes at.

she
gives you white hot coals
fire is so pretty, na?
leaves scars people will ask you about
a dramatic tale you can share
                                  at last

i leave
only ripples in the water
buoyancy
my trademark
though my body craves the heavy
           my mind      /     the empty
i awaken
grudgingly

drift on
silently

Harvey publishes we three

two colleagues and myself were recently published in Harvey mag.

Check it out here - http://www.harveymag.com/OF/