You're the line
And the break
That fall under
Of my words
Are the untold
Where In the dark
I have no name
Friday, December 14, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
"It's a joke
smiling at me
this is my life
you are laughing
at, in around and
i am losing
my dominant sense
and no I can't get a
I AM GOING BLIND
for the same reason
i can't drive a car
or take the kids
to the park
that's 100 meters away
joking that I use
him to get home
let life take away your
precious licence to
drive then see
when driving to
work no longer
or go down the street
to buy some milk
get across town
to see your friends
then there will be no
Friday, November 16, 2012
Under the grey
And thick black lash
And kitten heal
The retired Scottish
Lifting leg on the ballet
Mother dying at 52
Son dying at 24
Grandson at 3
And I turn down my music
Nestle in my restless
Friday, October 26, 2012
I want your shovel
So I can dig
To the you that
Deep in me
I want the everything
I want your words
To leave my mouth
And your thoughts
In my mind
Like the sun kisses
And the trees
Dance in the wind
Thursday, October 11, 2012
The lines "have a monkey", "sit with the devil" "walk the wire" float in my mind and all come from the album Rattlin Bones, a co-written album by Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson. I know here I go again with Kasey Chambers, I love her music!! This album is a constant companion and will always be!!
So we all, at some point are faced with a life changing/altering experience/challenge that will test our measure/person, that's what those above lines represent for me.
It could be cancer/losing a limb/self worth, having your heart broken/shattered your innocence taken/eroded.
For me it's living with a visual impairment and the always changing/unpredictable darkness/light. Not only do I live with an impairment I live with pending blindness/darkness. Every so often I am reminded/notice I loose a little/a lot of my sight, the dark/darkness becomes greater/darker.
I am controlled by what I see/miss, I am two people with light/dark I am not predictable/reliable. On one day I may walk on a set path that I walk each day with ease/confidence the next day I will walk with hesitation/caution because of the level of darkness/light. On day one/two I may spot you in a crowd but on either day one/two I won't see you two feet in front of me all because of the darkness/light.
Some days the world seems flat/hollow/grey/shadowed or it can be glarey/bright. Neither is a comfortable state/place. Very rarely is the world with definition/depth each moment is faced/attempted with a level of uncertainty/unpredictability.
This is tunnel vision, the flatness/world closed in state. Life/visions have to squeeze into a tube/tunnel like state/space, its like someone turns down/up the lights and you wait for your eyes to adjust, except they don't/cant. You cant run your way through the world you can only walk/stumble/feel/sense your way through it.
I'm visually impaired.
There is a difference/expectation. The difference/expectation is that I can see because I look/appear like I can see. But sometimes I can't. I run into things/people I trip/stumble/fall always mistakingly/misinterpreted for clumsiness. I can guarantee any visually impaired person is not clumsy the world is tackled with caution/care.
I wish I didn't wish/agonize/worry and at times be consumed by fear. I wish that I could be more positive/grateful for at least having had vision. Honestly, I think/know I am mostly focused/consumed with seeing/navigating/watching that I at times forget/miss/don't notice/appreciate the positives. I know I am ungrateful because I feel it's robbed/taken away my independence/youth. Its taken away trust/reliability visually and internally/personally.
And as I stop I just realized it has given me THIS...my passion/love/devotion to the written word. I write. I HAVE to write/feel this, because this is the moment/thoughts that make up who I am/was/can be/will be.
Lastly I know/feel this ultimately makes me a better/open/accepting/fortunate human being. I may consistently write about my vision/sight/darkness/light/shadow but this is the process that saves me from losing my mind, because it's this stuff that makes sense of the world. I've been waiting for the time when my words will dry up/fade/ but while I continue to try and understand the world/people/the heart/my heart I will continue to write/create.
So my monkey can walk the wire with me a little longer....
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Thanks Paul, for allowing another drive-home-from-work be life's classroom that's allowed meaning to be given to the "blue" in life....
To Michael, Laura, Deb, Troy and Melanie...you all reminded me of one thing...
Blue is gentle
Blue is the moment
Of quiet that folds
Around the dark
That doesn't fade
Blue is the wall
Around my heart
Blue is comfort
Caught in the voice
And the throat
Blue is fluid
That holds the breath
Blue is the weakness
It's the painted mask
The cold spell
Freezing me shut
Blue is gentle
Blue is you
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
Yesterday I was lucky enough to share a few hours with Deb Ellks who I have known for roughly 20 years, she's a beautiful friend of my aunts , she performed a song at my mothers exhibition so she has always kind of been on my periphery but yesterday she was in my central vision. Her insights and beliefs are rich and full of depth and spending time with her was a privilege....thanks Deb!!
The story I have been telling myself involves the realization of growth and knowing. I know in times of growth and change I really struggle and I usually live in a freaked out state until the wave of change passes.
But today choose to step into the light today, I choose to see the light I radiate and I allow others to also shine their own light too....
The heart covered in cloth
The heart beats with rested ease
The cloth is love
Her hand comforts the place
She searches amongst the rubble and clutter, where she finds the key. It shines a brilliant deep blue. This is the key designed to unlock your cupboard.
Inside that cupboard is your soul
The cupboard has been waiting for this day where unfolding trust is ready
Her hand reaches toward the well polished cupboard that sits amongst your bones and skin. Her hand shakes as she moves the glistening key toward the key hole
Your heart beats faster, for now you realise this a moment of true beauty
As she turns the key you both hear the click sound as the cupboard door unlocks. The tiny door feels free
She opens the door slowly and with care as fear begins to fill you
Fear for what might escape
Fear for what might be seen behind the door
Silence falls completely between you both
She peers in and it is your heart she sees. She pulls it closer
“Where is your flame?” she asks
“My flame?” You respond
“Yes, the warmth that makes you, you.” She says
“I don’t know.” You reply
“Well we need to ignite it, because you can’t live without it.” Again amongst the mess surrounding me she finds a match, which she strikes and leans into your cupboard and in the corner of your heart she ignites a small fire
She stands back, where she can see the tiny flickering of light illuminating the space with an orange and golden radiance
“I see your spirit.” She tells you
“It is beautiful and perfect.”
She moves closer reaching in and shifting your heart slightly
“Don’t be scared" you look into her eyes where you can see the reflection of the quivering flame
“For this is you.” She says.
You begin to feel your insides fill with warmth as the flames grows bigger
The blanket of darkness that covered you both begins to lighten
Looking above, the sky begins to turn in colour from black to green
The horizon tinged with a yellow lining
She too stands and watches the beauty of darkness fade into light
“Its time.” She says taking your hand
“For what?” You reply
“For you to see your own light.” She smiles warmly
“I can’t see it.” You respond trying to look down and in to yourself.
“You must, it’s all there. Can’t you feel it?”
Doubt emerges. You cannot see what she sees
“It’s beautiful my friend. It’s unique. You need not fear anymore.”
She stands back looking at you. She closes the cupboard door.
“I can’t do this for you. I can’t show you.” She smiles.
“You must do this for yourself. Because until then, the flame within you will never burn brightly.”
You feel the warmth begin to subside and you know the flame is losing its lustre
“But I am scared.” You say
“I don’t think I am strong enough to keep my fire burning.”
“But that is where you are wrong.” She takes your hand in hers and a warmth moves between you
“You just need to believe it is there. Because is in all of us we have a spirit that is ignited by self belief. I believe in you and I see your inner beauty radiate. You just need to feel it.”
“What is that I feel within me, that thumping feeling, the warmth?” you rest your hand on your chest
“That is your heart, your shining spirit that is your radiating soul, and it that is what is your flame. And that is what you must never let burn out.”
You take her hand and place it below yours
The yellow glow above you both begins to turn to orange and green to light shades of blue. You both look toward the sky
This is the realisation.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
My eyes threaded shut
As the river of gold
Washes over me
In the land of dreams
You will hear my heartbeat
As you set me free
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
I am Mary’s daughter.
I am Jacks eldest granddaughter.
I am a poet.
Mary Martin's show The Artist and the Slaughtermen was opened last Thursday 30 August at Steps Gallery.
Deb Ellks a beautiful friend of my aunts brought a room of vocal people to a quiet hum. Her voice sung in the story of a mother calling home her sons. In this moment I felt like I was blanketed by love as I stood next to my closest friend and beside my grandmother. My brother and family were in my vision, my Dad was holding his head high, my aunts, uncles and cousins were scattered around, my friends caught my eye with smiles.
I stood directly across from my mother who kept smiling at me. Like me she had a heart shift almost two years ago because of this song, this song carried her through the art work, a strong line in the song "the buffalo used to say be what you are...." and here we were witnessing the being of my mother.
Sarah Tomasetti then officially opened the show. This woman in her own right is a talented and gifted artist, but to me she is part of the reason why my mother is successful at HER art. Sarah has a way with my Mum. a way I envy. For the past 20 years she has been undoubtably the "unconditional" in my Mum's life. What Sarah did in opening the show was tie the art with the written story. She held my uncles in silence, commanding the space by telling their story, and speaking their story in a way that allowed them to ONLY feel pride.
My Mum was generous enough to allow myself to show a piece of art along with my two cousins Jack and Jess both talented artists who shone their hearts and I know this is just the beginning of their story telling.
I don't think I've yet taken it all in, but what sits with me is an amazing amount of honor. This was for my family, their story their lives, who they are, who they have made me to be.
My mother has this gift that allows you to get lost in this dreamy like world where you are captured in image and story, and possibly I've grown up with this being my life, for me this isnt anything unnatural or odd.
However, this is probably the first time I've experienced what others experience when they become lost in her work. I know they were there for her, and even though I know they came with an idea, those ideas were blown out upon the winter night air.
Her talent was received. Her story was successful. My mother was present.
I know my life as a visual artist/poet will never be the same, my relationship with art will now be different, my story will now be present.
The story of my grandfather resonates through the whole of the family. He too was a present man, he gave, he was strong, disciplined, provided, was a mate, a worker, a leader, a father, husband and most importantly to myself was a grandfather.
This was his story, their story.
My mothers story.
Below are some shots of our art
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Sunday, August 26, 2012
However this comes from a place I very rarely write from, anger and hurt and fear, fear of being let down when I invest myself, complete with heart and honesty. I guess my lesson has been with risk there is always the chance of let down
Are half told stories
And lies scrunched
They tell themselves
Are passed from
One to another
Around in circles
But no-one unwraps
To the center
Where in the middle
Is the truth
Monday, August 20, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
It silences Me
You etch sadness into the night
Im done talking
I watch My words fill Your empty vessel
My tears turn into Your possession
And Your demon walks with us
My lungs will fill with
The scent of Your tired
Clothes that You once wore
But You are now gone
Friday, August 3, 2012
I swam in the backyard
Amongst her broken pots
As eucalyptus branches brush
The tin roof
You cup my wet face in
Promises soaked in love
Are pinned against the mud brick
Sunday, July 29, 2012
With Scratches and
Sucking a lollipop
strangle his feet
One leaning on his knees
wearing Dunlop shoes
He reads Master and Reality
Sadness worn on their
I need my life to be different, I need for it to be better, I need to make change
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Are "prayers" a right or a gesture??
Do I have a say whether someone prays for me??
Are "prayers" simply good thoughts??
Am I ungrateful for not wanting someone to openly pray for me, and am I ungrateful for essentially rejecting someones positive intent?
I feel this says more about me than the act.....
Or the thought
You are the thief that
I am not sure what you took
Im done talking
My words fill
your empty vessel
My mind turns
Into the possession
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
So it makes me wonder how do you want to be remembered when you die, when your life ends?? Are we the things that we leave behind? Or are the thoughts, feelings and perceptions held by others all that remain?
I hope I leave this world with a little incomplete....a little left behind, a little undone!!
You left the half painted wall
smeared green across
the sky of deep blue
my arms outstretched
I can't reach the places
your half read book
and half played game
the sounds of an unfinished tune
This will remain undone
Friday, June 29, 2012
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
They built a house from mud
as summer was carried by the river edge
and desperate snakes haunted the night
autumn fell away
and the low hung darkness choked the space
winter drifted amongst the embers
as silence filled up lungs
spring was released toward star lit nights
while mice shuffled along the outside of dreams
the truth swung from the straw laid roof
moth wings caught the light
as the green of the valley
cradled their hearts
Friday, May 25, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Below the polka dot palace
Where my cousin folds her warmth around me
Capturing my dreams
Of wanting to be here
We listen, as the five bells ring out
Drowning the fire in my chest
We look above our heads
As metal towers over us
Breaking our dreamy state
We follow the sun
As beauty seeps into my being
And I cling to how soon this will become a memory
I watch gypsy's beg for their babies
Holding notes with names scrolled across the crinkled page
And I beg to the earth
To bring back the love
That I buried beneath the polka dot palace
Thursday, May 10, 2012
What is love and are we all courageous enough to fold away the "things" we believe IS love, and become defined by the true essence of what love can be??
Thanks so much to Dave, my new friend on instagram who has a gift of showing a richness and depth in his photos, check him out his username is
You won't be disappointed. Thanks for reading my poem, and encouraging me to share it....
I love my iPhone 4s
I love my ps3
I love my fast car
I love my manufactured plasma tv
I love my designer branded coat
I love my sparkling boat
I love my multi function romote
I love my stuff, my things
I love what they do for me,
How I look and how I be
When did love become so flippant
Just another word
When did love become defined by object
When love longs for me to look deep in your eyes
And feel you wandering in my mind
Love wants to be in command
I love seeing the moment your heart feels the rays of sun break the flesh
I love how dandelion wishes brush your cheek
I love the warmth of your friendship amongst my clutter
I love your breath upon my soul
I love the crack of autumn leaves under your feet
I love how your music fills my lungs
I love how deep love can take me
I love it's truth
I love you
I love you
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Stay wrapped in my arms