Here is a selection of my writings spanning about 5 years. Writing has always been cathartic for me, and was often the only outlet I had for the nastiness of living in a situation where you don't belong. 

Some are more coherent than others, some actually rhyme (although most don't...) but they all represent some part of my life. 

Please note: If you are offended by strong language, I recommend you don't read these works - many were written during times of intense emotional pain, when I expressed myself a little less fluently than I would have liked.

I wrote this on the train one day, having spent the better part of an hour playing eye contact games with a fellow commuter. Neither of us ever worked up the nerve to approach the other. 

Strangers 

You don't know me 
And I don't know you 
But the feeling's still there. 
Je nais se quoi 
I think it's called 
The undefinable something. 
I smile, then you. 
We both look away Embarrassed? 
We laugh together 
Me at her, and you at me. 
They all laugh. 
She sits between us, 
Marking the end Of our little game.

'Dreaming' is about an old school friend of mine who committed suicide when we were seventeen. 

Dreaming 

Some dream of riches, some of the sun 
They dream of the past, of things yet to come. 
You dreamt on the dark side of life itself 
They say that you're strange but I know that's not true 
There's no difference 'tween you and the rest of us. 
They all turn away, leaving you to yourself, 
Why can't you be happy like everyone else?

 I wrote 'Green Eyes'  when I was seventeen, and coming to terms with the end of a tumultuous relationship with perhaps the first person I cared deeply about. 

Green Eyes 

Oxygen. 
Water. 
Memories. 
Climbing Trees. 
Summer Rain. 
Good Music. 
A kiss in the rain. 
Long summer nights. 
You turn to me - I turn to you. 
Undying love professed - I meant every word.

'To Him From Her' was a response to the news that the afore mentioned subject of 'Green Eyes' was seeing someone new. Seventeen and heartbroken - admire my restraint in not calling her a thousand names! 

To Him From Her 

I love him. 
He once loved me too 
But that changed. 
And no more does he think 
Of me, of us, 
For he has her now, 
And doesn't need me. 

But still, my soul screams 
For the love he once gave. 
My sole wish would take me back 
To a happier time when I was loved 
By him. 

I can only hope she's happy 
Knowing she has him and I do not. 
She doesn't know me, or I her, 
But I hate her with such a passion 
For she has what I once possessed 
And still desire to reclaim - His love. 

In days gone by 
He told me so often I was the one he loved 
The one he lived for 
The only one for him. 
We were meant for each other, 
Him and I, 
None could deny it. 

But all that's gone now 
And I cry for what used to be, 
Knowing that he has her 
And doesn't need me.

'Untitled' I wrote about a friend of mine who had cheated on a partner she loved dearly one night while under the influence. She assured us all she was coping. We gathered for her funeral three months after I wrote this. True Story.  

 Untitled

 Images shatter 
Everything changes, 
The deceit 
She copes but 
Not for long. 
She hides away - 
Can't hide forever. 
Wonders what comes next. 
No way to know. 
Impatience will kill her 
She knows too well 
Her lies will kill him 
The thought hurts her so - 
She lives for him alone. 
Hurting him hurts her too. 
She hates what she has become. 
He thinks he knows his girl - 
If only he knew the truth 
Of what lives in her soul.

This piece was in response to a incident in which I fell for an exchange student who was weeks away from going home. We promised to write, but you know how that is.... a few years on and I can't even summon his name! 

Untitled

 Water under the bridge 
Two ships passing in the night, 
Never to meet again. 
I know I'll miss you, 
Stranger though you are. 
So briefly you've touched my life 
But I know I shan't forget you - 
Your influence remains although 
Already you are gone. 

Funny, talented, clever, 
You're everything I am not. 
Inexplicably drawn to you, 
What I feel terrifies me - 
Our lives are not the same, 
And you'll soon return to yours, 
Leaving me alone with my memories.

Yet another break up piece...

 Untitled 

Fractured reality - 
No longer real. 
Centre of my universe 
No longer. 
Shattered perspective. 
Cry till scarlet is all I can see. 
Death of a dream 
And a soul.

Nothing much I can say about this one. I was hanging out at a cafe called Sahara in Melbourne a lot at the time, drinking a lot of coffee, holding a lot of pretentious conversations and writing a lot of peculiar semi-poetry. 

Ode To Sugar Sludge

 Sludgy mess in my coffee cup 
Once again I was over excited 
With the sugar, and there you sit 
Like so many before you I play with you, 
Stir you around 
You hold be transfixed 
And I smile to myself. 
What is it like, oh sludgy one 
Do you feel as I do 
Invaded and alone? 
Is life as a mess 
All you had dreamed 
Or did you want more? 
I know life is strange 
When to sugar I write, 
But hey, what the hell,
 You will never tell me I'm worthless or 
That my words do not work 
And my sludgy friend,
 I thank you for that.

This was the product of a rather cynical afternoon during my eighteenth year. I sat there, and suddenly felt so very old. 

Untitled 

The window is cracked 
The coffee is cold 
But that doesn't explain 
How I'm feeling so old.

 My thoughts fill this page 
They appear all in rhyme 
As I think about life 
Not of theirs, but of mine. 

Only eighteen years old 
But so much I have seen 
The things I have done 
The places I've been. 

People have told me 
And they've told me true 
I've seen more in my life 
Than have they, or have you. 

I know much about nothing 
And some about lots 
Try to analyze my mind 
Try and join all the dots. 

You'll see that you can't 
That it just won't make sense 
But that's part of the plan 
That's my major defense. 

There's no one who knows me 
As well as they could 
There's no one who loves me 
As well as they should.

'Transitional' originated as a song lyric. I was living with two guitarists at the time, and one night they challenged me to write something we could mess around with (we didn't have a TV at that point, so this was how we often spent our nights). A friend of ours had recently 'sold out' as we saw it at the time, and joined the 'yuppie brigade'. This piece expresses the hurt we felt at being forsaken by an old friend. 

Transitional 

It's a working class neighbourhood 
A working class street 
It's my working class shoes 
On my working class feet 
You bastards up there in yuppieland 
Spare a thought for How we live. 

My working class hero 
Watch him, now he falls 
Trying to compete with yuppieland 
A victim of the time-worn call. 

He prances with the best of them 
Cruises Chapel Street by day 
Turning into a yuppie asshole 
He forgets from where he came. 

He's my working class hero 
Watch him, now he falls 
Trying to compete with yuppieland 
A victim of the time-worn call. 

Now he lives up on the hill 
Forgets his slumming days 
I cry as I remember 
And mourn for my lost friend. 

He was my working class hero 
Watch him, now he's fallen 
He's now part of yuppieland 
Fell victim to the time-worn call.

This piece speaks pretty much for itself... 

Warm Day on the Frankston Line 

Damn these people Who can sleep here. 
Fucking narcoleptics. 
I, awake, solitary, bored, a little shitty. 
Frankston Line holds No interest for me. 
(For an insomniac she Sleeps a lot).

This one I wrote on Batman train station on the Upfield Line in Melbourne. I had just watched two groups of teenagers, one group Italian, the other Lebanese, abuse each other because of their respective racial backgrounds. I hadn't been living out there very long, and was astounded by the hatred these two groups felt for each other. 

Untitled 

One solitary voice Cries in the suburbs
 The hated, the tension. 
One sees, different to them 
This urban warfare 
Fought with words 
Insult trading 
Them versus us Versus you. 
We all live, breath, shit, bleed. 
We're all one and The Same.

This was also originally going to be a song lyric, but it never quite worked. The bulk of it came to me in a meditation, and I simply could not get it out of my head. It was desperate to be written.

 All The World's A Stage

 Dancing across the stage of my memory 
The images of an innocence lost, the tears I shed for the dysfunction 
The love I could never quite give freely enough. 
Still no day goes by when I don't pause and blink 
The lights here are so bright 
Blocking the view I thought was 
My god-given right. 
Shed my tears and smile my smiles 
Laugh and scream and 
Remember.

Not sure I really want to talk about this one... 

Amitryptaline 

Constant revelations, ever changing situations. 
Two worlds, effortlessly colliding, becoming one. 
A single smile, an idol thought, a half-forgotten dream. 
The secret knowledge that this is comprehended by only me 
Guarding my secret with my entire being, my soul sings softly to itself, sweet, barely remembered lullabies, 
And laughs while remembering The Way Things Were - 
Hateful and cold, so unforgiving, like nothing you could ever hope to comprehend. A single solitary tear slides 
Along my face, as I struggle not to remember those wasted, terrible days, and the contrast between them and the life I know now, almost Utopian in it's sheer happiness. 
It's all a state of mind, they tell me. 
Great. 
Who's mind? I wonder briefly. 
But today I have my happy thoughts on, refusing to dwell on what has become, concentrating 
Rather on what is still to come, on my new life, my fragile, 
Beautiful happiness. 
My chemically enhanced, blister packaged happiness. 
Clinging to the futility I know so well, like an old pair of shoes I simply cannot throw away. 
For the best is what they say to me, and deep inside I know they're right, but can't bring myself to 
Agree.

This was written to be the main theme from a screenplay I've been writing for about three years. This is the majority of the finished material from said screenplay. 

Vagrant Entertainer 

Singing the songs 
Playing for laughs 
Travelling round 
From place to place 
Today we're here 
Tomorrow - who knows where?

 A life on the road 
Who would've thought it 
A life on the road 

Across this land we go 
One horse towns 
A few without even a horse 
We play the outback 
We play the cities tall 
Coast to coat - we play them all. 

A life on the road
 Who would've thought it
 A life on the road 

The touring life is not for all 
But me, it's the life I love 
Three states in three days 
Three thousand k's 
Can't drink the water here 
Got three bucks for a shower? 

A life on the road 
Who would've thought it
 A life on the road.

'Betrayal' was another of those pieces that just cried out to be written. An old friend and I had been drifting apart for some time. Despite the fact that we lived under the same roof, we hardly saw one another, and I had just come to terms with the loss of this friendship when a series of horrible things  happened to her. Suddenly she needed me again. I was torn between the fact that she needed my help, and the fact that she'd forsaken me as a friend so easily. 

Betrayal 

My friend, now you've fallen on hard times 
Nothing's the same as before. 
Suddenly you seem to need me again 
Well I'm sorry to say I'm not here anymore. 

How many times have I counted 
Promises you've made, promptly broken 
Forsaken in favour of fly-by-night lovers 
Time spent with me a mere token 
Attempt at pretence of the friendship of old 
When nothing better appears before you 
The only advice I can give you, my friend - 
Treat them as you treat me 
And they'll soon leave you too.

'Dragon Glow'. What can I say. I wrote this about a person I'd met a couple of times who had me transfixed from the time I laid eyes on him. We've been together nearly three years now. (See, some of these stories do have a happy ending!) 

Dragon Glow 

By night the silent dragon flies 
Across the frontier of the mind 
Dreamlike, just a touch surreal 
Barely there, though I can feel.
 Noticed just by those who know 
And understand the spooky glow.

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