three gifts

Born a king on Bethlehem's plain,
war torn, then as now,
the birth of a prince of peace more remarkable than
pigs flying over a kosher barbeque.

Incense given,
heralding the presence of deity,
as does the scent of blood, sweat and tears,
miraculous proclamation of fleshly God.

Myrrh scents the house,
perfume of a grave and a birthplace,
new life, newly lived, snatched again.
First breath repeated as first fruits.

sub-texts

Real text (to my sister):

A bit more of my broken tooth just broke off...! I feel this is the sort of thing one needs to share with someone. Guess what?! This is YOUR lucky day!! :-) It didn't hurt... Nor does it look rotten. Also, it means there's less of a hole to get food in/dig food out of with tongue. Mmm. So anyway... Yeah. There u go :-)

Subtext:

I am all alone, at night, with a broken tooth.

Real text (from NRMA):

Don't forget to renew your Roadside Assistance before 29/11/2012. If you haven't already paid, call 1300 300 381 or visit mynrma.com.au/renewal.

Subtext:

When you next drive out to the country, y'know, to visit the family or whatevs, YOU COULD DIE!! So pay us now.

Real text (to my friend):

Honest, today's the day I'll write down ur apartment number so I know which bell to ring!!

Subtext:

I am incompetent at life. LIFE!! How did that end up being a pass/fail?! You've lived here for ages, I've visited you multiple times, yet, I stand on your step, wondering if I can somehow cheat my way into the right apartment and save my shreds of dignity. Dammit. I cannot!!

Real prayer (to God):

Please be with &$#€¥. Help her to get through this awful day, and comfort her, and help her to keep trusting in you despite the ickiness of it all. Please hold her tight!!

Subtext:

Gaaaaaaaahhhh!!! If you don't sort this, I have no idea what I'm going to do. And yes, this is one of those days where I feel like a total idiot for even talking to you. Please help?

even today

Depression's worst on sunny days,
when Spring is in the air.

More justified, more rational
when black clouds gather Winter storms
or Fridays fall alone,
with tissues, pie and bed.

On glory days, with spirits high,
the laughter of friends ringing in azure sky,
the gutting fall to darkened deeps,
emptiness,
harsh inner voices and
distress

seems more potent,
draining,
hopeless.

Even on this day
I cannot be content.

Ellie's birthday

On Saturday, my darling niece Ellie turned two, and I performed as the Heartbeat Poet for the first time. 

I turned these three poems into a cycle - Mother's Day, Spiritual Surgery and For Paris and then finished it off with Sunset and After The Storm (the first two stanzas of this post, resurrection storm).

It was a great experience to speak the poems, and experiment with the visual and aural aspects of performance as well. 

Check out the outfit!

mistress of the pig market/heartbeat live

Hey y'all,

soooooo, my fabulous friend Ali Maegraith is launching her folky/rocky album 'Mistress of the Pig Market' at the moment, aaaaaaaand, on Saturday 27th October, 7pm at Marrickville Road Church, I'll be performing a set of my poetry at her request.

It's the corner of Petersham and Marrickville Roads, $15/adult, $20 with CD - the album is great!!

So, come check out my embarrassing debut styled as a 'performance poet' and enjoy some cool tunes in the beautiful Marrickville Anglican Church.

xo

Hebrews 10

Standing not in shadow,
but a vision now.
Still ephemeral,
but light.

What help is that?
To know more but feel nothing?
To stand either side, in the darkness or The Day
but not the middle moment,
the vital strike
of heavenly lightning to shattered earth?

Hope still as fragile,
life still a rehearsal,
the dumb imitation of actions not yet seen, but described.

Press on.

Press on weary soldier,
toward oasis promised.
Haze on the horizon,
not even the scent in the air.

But,

one day soon -
keep stepping,
you can wash,
and drink,
and rest. 

Judas stumbles

Night falls.
The sick, sad slip down into darkness.

He walked with you once,
in the day.
Ate with you,
lived with you,
heard you speak and cry.

Day after day,
in the company,
standing by
as crowds came clamouring,
pharisees came wrangling,
mothers came wondering
he knew why.

But in the end,
promised prize faded
next to newly minted glint.
Instant gratification won over delayed bliss.

Suddenly, stark sunshine
lit corpses hung high in the air,
and shone unwelcome in dark, dank caverns
of motive and crime.

Then,
night falls.
No light to see money by.

Judas stumbles.