The Truth as it Currently Stands.

You will not remember much from school.

School is designed to teach you how to respond and listen to authority figures in the event of an emergency. Like if there's a bomb in a mall or a fire in an office. It can, apparently, take you more than a decade to learn this. These are not the best days of your life. They are still ahead of you. You will fall in love and have your heart broken in many different, new and interesting ways in college or university (if you go) and you will actually learn things, as at this point, people will believe you have a good chance of obeying authority and surviving, in the event of an emergency. If, in your chosen career path, there are award shows that give out more than ten awards in one night or you have to pay someone to actually take the award home to put on your mantlepiece, then those awards are more than likely designed to make young people in their 20's work very late, for free, for other people. Those people will do their best to convince you that they have value. They don't. Only the things you do have real, lasting value, not the things you get for the things you do. You will, at some point, realise that no trophy loves you as much as you love it, that it cannot pay your bills (even if it increases your salary slightly) and that it won't hold your hand tightly as you say your last words on your deathbed. Only people who love you can do that. If you make art to feel better, make sure it eventually makes you feel better. If it doesn't, stop making it. You will love someone differently, as time passes. If you always expect to feel the same kind of love you felt when you first met someone, you will always be looking for new people to love. Love doesn't fade. It just changes as it grows. It would be boring if it didn't. There is no truly "right" way of writing, painting, being or thinking, only things which have happened before. People who tell you differently are assholes, petrified of change, who should be violently ignored. No philosophy, mantra or piece of advice will hold true for every conceivable situation. "The early bird catches the worm" does not apply to minefields. Perfection only exists in poetry and movies, everyone fights occasionally and no sane person is ever completely sure of anything. Nothing is wrong with any of this. Wisdom does not come from age, wisdom comes from doing things. Be very, very careful of people who call themselves wise, artists, poets or gurus. If you eat well, exercise often and drink enough water, you have a good chance of living a long and happy life. The only time you can really be happy, is right now. There is no other moment that exists that is more important than this one. Do not sacrifice this moment in the hopes of a better one. It is easy to remember all these things when they are being said, it is much harder to remember them when you are stuck in traffic or lying in bed worrying about the next day. If you want to move people, simply tell them the truth. Today, it is rarer than it's ever been.

(People will write things like this on posters (some of the words will be bigger than others) or speak them softly over music as art (pause for effect). The reason this happens is because as a society, we need to self-medicate against apathy and the slow, gradual death that can happen to anyone, should they confuse life with actually living.)

The Grand Decision.

And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling "This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!"

And each day, it's up to you, to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say "No. This is what's important."

The Days Before Childhood.

Before now, before you're here, we're getting the world ready. We've softened all the corners. We've taken all the chemicals out of everything we've ever made and used them to make fireworks to mark your arrival. We've invented leaves that fall 20% slower and are 100% more fun to fall into. We made new colours. We made snow. We made summer holidays. We've even created something called a "puppy" and a "kitten" and you may choose which one you prefer when you get here. Which is where we are now. Before you are born.

The Sunny Sunday.

It was such a beautiful day this Sunday.

Mitchell and I made our veggie patch.

And I planted our potatoes too.

Dad, Mom & Craig put up the fence on our Belle's new play pen!

She can't wait to move in!

The World Woke Up.

 

 

Please don't open your eyes.

The world is wrong today.

I don't want you to see it.

Those dreams of burning cars, of bankers crying in the streets, of the earth shaking, they're not dreams.

Just stay warm for now.

Just for a little while now.

Before it hits.

Before it takes.

Nine Eleven.

There's a scary anniversary coming, and unless you've been floating in a pool of mercury, behind the walls of sealed cavern, within the bowels of an arctic mountain, screaming to yourself, as loud as you can, then you've already heard a lot of about it. A lot. And this is just the prelude.

Saddam Hussein would have called it the Mother of All Anniversaries. Then again, look where his talent for hyperbole got him.

It all reminds me of some sinister motion picture from the fifties, when black and white film was either overexposed or starless, just shades and shapes in shifting ashes, and everything cued by racing violins. Clouds boiling in the half darkness - monstrous static-filled cumulonimbus, flickering with the shredded hearts of crumbled lightning, spitting leaden tears and electric venom in the shape of sharpened crosses.

America is always compelling, fascinating, the big man in the room. Only now we have the brooding colossus, still movie-star handsome and commanding, but slumped by the window of his crumbling fortress, seemingly under siege, staring out over a devastated landscape. Is it real or imagined? He sees the menacing smoke on the distant horizon but none of the fires in his own fields. There are masked men and peasants, bombs and scraps. Why do his thoughts seem so illogical? He mumbles. He threatens the twilight, and then the rain. The rest of the world wonders - is this a giant traumatized, a golem in the grips of a terrible dream, or has the light gone forever, and a certain madness descended?  I guess what I am really asking: is this anniversary about memory or a haunting?

Ten years, two wars, thousands murdered, tens of thousands killed, millions ruined, billions spent, a ill-fated cowboy, a hollow professor, bag men and crooks, hate-filled fanatics, lie machines and fear factories, the city on the hill surrounded by guard dogs, barking at the night. But everyone's still hoping for a happy ending, because as America goes, so does the weather, and all the lights that follow.

The Shooting Cloud.

If you're tired of trying to fall asleep, sleep on it and try again tomorrow.

If you're all out of promises, I have one left for you: The Earth is still here as long as you're alive.

If you want to yell out your frustrations, I'll understand, just understand that the whole world is screaming, mostly complaining about the noise.

If you're worried about having the poetry knocked out of you when you're older, don't. Old blood bleeds as good as new.

If you've got nothing left to feel, just pay the bill and walk away.

If there's anything else, let me know.

Dream.

The Conscious.

Learn to appreciate what you have,

before time makes you appreciate what you had.



The Weather Chart.

The Woodstock.

And I dreamed I saw the bombers
Riding shotgun in the sky
And they were turning into butterflies
Above our nation
We are stardust
Billion year old carbon
We are golden
Caught in the devils bargain
And weve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

The Soul Saver.

I just wanted to let you know, it's not how far you fall, it's how you land.

Actually, it's probably the sudden stop at the end.

Galvanised.

Found this while browsing the internet Galvanised at Millthorpe - can't wait until they get their online shop up and running!!

The Domain.

Failure is the universe’s way of telling you to either try harder or try something else. Nothing more. Nothing less

The Sheer Lack of Existence.

I'm made of dreams and memories.

I am made of misheard whispers in the dark.

I am made of glances across crowded rooms.

Of the closeness of strangers in a line outside a movie.

I am made of the corners of your mouth.

I am made of awkward elevator rides and the lack of security one finds on a doorstep, at the end of the evening, when one has enjoyed the company of another.

I am made of the train tracks that take me home.

I am made of ghost notes, from songs you never heard.

So forgive my absence. But I was never really here to begin with, anyway.