ACT I
See The Calm he Sought
The right person will have you assign so much meaning to the mundane things in life.
Nowadays, making a tea is as emotionally fulfilling as watching my favourite film.
The simple act of eating brunch has been bestowed the power of bringing me to the verge of tears.
Drifting to dreams was just a thing I had to do, then with her it was sacred. It was everything.
It was the thing.
Garden Of Eden
Not Adam nor Eve
But the two lay together
In the Garden of Eden.
They lay naked as God intended
Free of shame
As a confession of love
Sprinkled out his rosy lips
Onto the marred mattress
Before making its way
Into her being.
There is a palpable purity
In a naked confession
Of love.
Souls so tranquil
They felt comfortable revealing themselves
When it seemed nothing remained
To uncover.
Two bodies and souls intertwined
Eyes flickered with the light that lay beside
With smiles so strong
They age cheeks moisturised twice daily.
They lay naked
Free of shame
Filled with new love
As a place for sleep
Became the Garden of Eden.
Thankyou
I love the way
You always wrote
Thankyou.
You cut the space
Between thank and you,
Thank you
For the way you wrote
Thankyou.
Unbearably cute
Removing the gap
Between thank and you.
Thank you
For being you
Thank you
For writing thank you,
Thankyou.
Centred Is Bad For A Guy Like him
I don’t know myself
In the calm
I find me
In the storm,
When I’m centred
Grounded to the core
A normal breathing pattern
I don’t know me,
When my hands are taped to the wheel
And a brick sits on the accelerator
The fog clears
And I finally see me.
I know who I am
When I wear a weighted vest
And go for a swim
When I’m blindfolded
And pushed off a cliff.
The frenzy
Is necessary.
1969 Chevrolet Matte Black Camaro
Around five years prior
To the calm he thought he sought
The boy learnt quickly
How to watch his own back
he learnt that when he fell
he would need to be the one to set up the crash mats
he was forced to undertake
Far more than he could bare
When one day
he no longer felt the security
Of the firm hand
On his shoulder
That had been there
Since three quarters of a full rotation
Before he was born.
Within himself he has tried
To normalise this new reality
But he can’t get over the fact that
It isn’t normal.
Convo With Mum
This morning I had a conversation with my mum
A real conversation
Where we didn’t bark at each other
Where I didn’t give her attitude
Where she didn’t harp on about things I have no care for
Where we actually listened
Where I let her finish her sentences
Where she looked me in the eyes.
This morning I had a conversation with my mum
A real conversation
And it was the highlight
Of my year.
his Relationship With Confidence
Confidence and I have a toxic relationship.
Some nights I make love with confidence only to find out on the comedown that I was satisfying my ego. Confidence used to be the lighthouse that guided me through the tidal waves of daily life. I had confidence in my own confidence. No longer. Not an overnight departure. Slowly but surely. Like a marriage that’s been on the rocks for months. My confidence and I greet each other, occupy the same space, but we no longer have the intimate connection that made us fall for one another. I question if it was ever real. Was it just a front? Is it always front? Is that confidence? Is confidence a mind-game we force ourselves to play? If I had to guess, yes. If I didn’t, no.
Narrative
How can we control our narrative
In a world already written?
We are trying
To write our stories
In a world
Already authored
By a select group
Of alien-adjacent abhorrent hyper-capitalist monsters.
You say
Okay
Time for my next chapter
Then you turn the page
Only to see the rest of the book
Already written by the slimy lizards
With you
As the disposable supporting character,
But it’s okay!
They’re the authors!
They know what’s best!
They know more than we do!
Shut up!
The Key To Productivity
I will live my life
As if I am paid fifty thousand dollars
Per year
By the government.
Pink Clothes
I seem chill
So much so
I’m even complimented
On my relaxed demeanour
But I will stress about
If my pinkish purple jacket
Is pink enough
For the party
With a pink dress code.
Award Ceremony
An obvious stance for many
To take hold of expeditiously
Protect your family at all costs
But at what cost
The fallen angel awaits the lost
A grandiose moment
Endless tired hours
Stained by furious passion
With absent retaliation.
Tension thicker than forests kept from human hands
Torn morals
Freedom of speech
Freedom of consequences
The lord of the lost reveals himself
At your highest moments
Any nuance has vanished
Conversations dry like summer grass
The simulation is broken
By the most unsuspecting glitch.
Decades of inauthenticity
Destroyed by a moment of misguided purity.
Eggs And Hash Browns
A common delicacy for the sun-kissed youth
he lay in bed so still he appeared dead
A late wake calls for a meal served by professionals
he craves the sweet bitterness of a coffee
The primal satisfaction after eating the unfertilised offspring of a chicken
The gawks from patrons thrice his age
The serotonin injection when his food arrives
And the painfully pleasant feeling of a stomach that took on more than it expected.
Waiting At The Airport
Survive the airport waiting game
Fuel your cells with mediocre coffee
The barista’s eyes glazed like a rich donut
Krispy Kreme shenanigans
Have a staring contest with a screen that refuses to function for more than thirty-seven seconds
A timeless card game distracts the four lost puppies
Conjure backstories for patrons that catch your eye
Delay
Delay
Delay
To stay sane, imagine the airport to be an area outside time and space
The delays are infinite
Infinite, yet they grow longer
Delay.
Paramedics
How do you confuse a paramedic?
Injure him.
The Only Thing he Did Right
I could die tonight
Twenty years young
Yet a full life lived
Knowing my two decades
Spent tripping over myself
Led to at least one person
Picking up the pen.
Inspiration
It does not take a lot
To inspire.
You will inspire
If you show the tiniest belief
In yourself
In your work.
In a world carefully designed
To belittle you
To make you feel microscopic
To destroy your self-esteem
To keep you in your place,
Showing selflove
Self-belief
Can have an extraordinary impact
A life-changing impact
On someone else.
Be proud of yourself and your work
And make sure
To tell people.
I rather hear
I feel inspired by you
Than
I love you.
Hyper(HYPER)bole(BOWL)
I love being hyperbolic.
I love listening to a new song
Then immediately claiming
It’s the best one.
That was the greatest album
I have ever heard
And the listen
Was just my first.
That was easily the worst thing
I have ever had the displeasure
Of watching.
I love exaggerating so much
That when I exaggerate hate
It’s often confused
With genuine hate
But don’t fret
It’s just bait.
Life is more joyous
When you’re hyperbolic
The album isn’t melancholic
Just say it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever heard
And move on to the next topic.
We exaggerate all the time anyway,
I have the best kids in the world
You’re the best dad in the world
You’re the most gorgeous person I have ever seen
This is the best day ever.
Hyperbole
Keep it up.
Leg
I feel I lose more socks
Than the worst team
Loses games
They love to say
It grew legs and ran away,
What if it did?
Picture a world
Where your socks grew legs
And your socks wore socks,
I might try lose my sock drawer
To have a sock-wearing sock-army
Ready for war.
Show me the village
Where our lost items dwell
Where they compare leg sizes
And who can run well.
In this village
A lost t-shirt
Must look like a person
Without a head
Without arms
Without pants
Wearing a t-shirt
Three sizes too large.
Ethan Hawke
The Ethan Hawke Dilemma,
To master a thing
Or to not
So delightfully pretentious
His crooked teeth
Show weathered wisdom.
The pursuit of such intellect
Writing poetry should do it
A novel is on my to-do list.
You know?
The Ethan Hawke Dilemma,
His work is more real
Than my real life
And my life
Is quite real
According to my reality.
A beard is nigh impossible
Onward goes the goatee
Not technically exquisite
But oh so charming.
You know?
The Ethan Hawke Dilemma,
A lovely burden
On my young pretentious brain.
You know?
Hawke Talk
I love watching
Ethan Hawke talk
I love listening to
Ethan Hawke talk.
You know?
Leave It On Nineteen
My old friend
It’s been too long
We journey together
Through drab days
Through the icy months.
If I sweat by your touch
I sit content
My dampness is the beautiful consequence of your undying love for me.
Mother Nature commands a battle
You are such a graceful combatant
You seek not a brawl with the elements
But my welcome somnolence
When my hair fears its own frizz.
Such long arms
Every corner of every room
Feels your embrace
So considerate you are
Easing your passion
Before I speak a word to you.
Flowers
What a strange gift
Flowers are.
Here is the life I purchased
I am familiar with their timeless beauty
I explain to the recipient,
You will hold their hand
And see them to the other side
You have no choice in the matter.
What a strange symbol
Flowers are
When a gift they become
The ticking clock begins
And their roots cry out in pain.
Vibrant colours distract you
From the horrors unfolding,
Colours dull
Fallen petals are funeral patrons.
If a gesture of love
Is your intention
Let the plants rest in bed
Nurture and water and eventually yes,
Dead.
SEE THE CALM he SOUGHT
All of this
Is for the house too big
With the grass too thick.
The era of three too many bedrooms
Another birth always looms
The firstborn rarely cleans his room.
Trips to Harvey Norman
Debating décor
A new family to pray for.
An extravagant wedding
Kids fresh bedding
Fairly divided house chores
Arguing about who snores
The inevitable divorce.
Six-day working weeks
Shopping day for new cleats
School lunch with ham and cheese
Sunday morning football fingers freeze
Waiting in the car for my son
The ball goes back-and-forth
We come home and tell mum who won.
Dead Poets Society
Mr. Williams said
We read and write poetry
Because we are part
Of the human race
But I do it to look cute
And save face.
Proprietary
How is one free
Under leadership?
No such thing
As authentic authorship
Chaotic words are yours
Despite confused penmanship
Soul as commodity
The miserable lie of ownership.
All children are products
Of their parents
Creatives void of creativity
Youthful eyes ensure visionary longevity.
A world that preaches uniqueness
Orange in a juicer
Squeeze out beautiful idiosyncrasies
Leftover pulp holds lost destinies
Freshly squeezed juice
Is the you they pray rings true.
Packaged soul is sold
Humans as product
Quantity over quality
Proprietary.
Fine Print
The greatest lie the artist has known
The art he makes is just his own.
Every heartbreak thrown to canvas
Souls healed through catchy melody
The very words that sing this truth
Belong to a malevolent entity
Entrusted to encourage your artistic prosperity.
Perhaps the joke is on me
For not reading the fine print.
Liam’s Lie
A whisper infused with a lie
Spreads like a disease
It moves behind your back with ease
And by some miracle
All those around you
Know more about you
Than you do
Who knew?
How incredible it is
How quickly word spreads
When ‘tis a fib,
A year goes by
With everyone believing the lie.
The First Time he Fell
I spent the better part
Of 2 years
Falling head over heels
For a cardboard cut-out
I would have done anything
For a cardboard cut-out
I would have bled
For a thing
That bleeds paper pulp.
All those trips
On the brick with wheels
Obsessing over
A cardboard cut-out.
In my defence
It was a very convincing
Cardboard cut-out.
Redundant Poem About Death
I will not be the last
And I am not the first
But some days I cannot help
To think about death
The undefeated heavyweight champion
Of His universe.
No matter how much I write
No matter the fuss I create
No matter the purpose I think I find
There will come a moment
Which will be my last
Where I lay my eyes on the Earth
One more time
Before I cease existing
Forever
And will have never existed
Ever at all.
All my memories
Have no path but to death
And maybe deep down
My fear of death
Is why I write,
I write to live
A little bit longer
After I am sent to the abyss,
To be completely honest
I am not sure I can write anymore
Conscious of this fact.
Never mind.
I can still write.
he Cannot Help himself
I make everything about me
I noticed that I make everything about me
So I made a pledge with me
To stop making everything about me
And in doing so
I made everything about me.
Someone complained
That I make everything about me
And that it was ruining everything
So I tried to fix everything
By just focussing on me
And in doing so
I made everything about me.
Accumulate
Being human is one thing,
It’s one long trek
Accumulating loss.
Being human is a big game
Where everyone competes to see
Who can lose the most.
The longer you live
The more pets you loved
Now rest in the ground
The more loves you’ve loved
Left and never found.
Try not to live too long
You might lose
A little too much
All before you lose your breath.
You
You’re worth
Writing about.
