Blood spits on the
 Vanity mirror
Plastic wire
 Ripping through
   Naked gums
Digging railtracks
In hot violent
And then the white tube
Of army cream
Is oppressed to shoot forth
Mint repentance
for our plentiful lies

we thoroughly wash in
fierce whirling storms
till our soldiers squeak
for another
productive bloody day.


I don’t need to fly
Customs through customs
has tired my bloodshot eyes,
In transit, at home
what can replace
a grandmothers hug?
which envelops in warmth
and in that is hope
But in transit, like home
under siege
by the brands
who on tanks crash forth

then suspended in mid-air
like in Bach timeless
for a moment
to glide through
painful time.

I don’t want to leave
no need to fly
uncontrolled tear streams
supplied by a life
at the ocean

and here I sit, in transit
with her wisdoms shoulder
the only warmth
like home

In Sydney Airport 19/09/11


Go and whine
    For there is plenty to complain,
Take some drugs for soothing
    Watch TV for pain

Cry for boredom
   See a psychologist for resort,
Feel all that is material
   Only give what can be bought.

Hear nothing!
   For truth might corrupt your day,
Blindly chase those fields of desert
   In this city by the bay.

    For you truly need to cry
Streams of unlived emotions
   Something left to try.



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