Risk Taker

She was a high achiever
High wire
High flyer
Ten degrees
Too good for me.

I was a low key
Low fee
Low life
Unlucky enough
To lift her heart
Instead of her purse.

When she dumped me
From her great height -
I landed right at home
On the ground floor.

Portrait

He wears cargo pants,

Rides a motorbike,

Carries a notebook, pen

And an honest, sharp knife.

He likes girls, bikes, books,

And other fast things.

You won’t find him in crowds,

You find him

Out on the edges

Where the action is.

Dusk and dawn,

Beaches and banks,

Footpaths and traffic islands.

Surfing the skinny branches

And riding last year’s trend

Like it was brand new.

That smell you like

But you can never quite place,

That was him.

There,

And always

Heading somewhere else.

He has humour like good chocolate

Dark, bitter and a hint of

Not from around here.

Huaraches

My new huaraches

And my feet 

Have finally made peace. 

My toes are like kids on the beach, 

Rushing to examine rocks and shells and sticks. 

My feet appreciate 

Being unlocked,

Free to breathe 

And feel the world.

But those toes

They just giggle and wiggle.

Truth

Truth is:

Stranger than fiction

Harder than failure

Sharper than satire

Soft as moonlight

Brighter than noonlight

Beautiful naked.
 

Truth is:

Spoken carefully to friends

In lies to children

Never to superiors

More bitter the longer it is resisted.

 
Truth is:

Always worth

What you pay for it. 

Bittersweet

Bittersweet

The longings of my heart.

Bitter, bitter, bitter

Sweet.

Scene In A Bar-Room

Two coughs walk into a dimly lit bar. They speak briefly with the bartender who frowns and shakes his head. Money surreptitiously changes hands and the bartender nods his head towards a booth where a sneeze sits nursing an empty glass.

The coughs walk over to the sneeze blocking his escape.

One of the coughs says hello to the sneeze, offers to buy him another drink.

The other kicks the chair out from underneath him, threatens the sneeze with nasal spray.

The sneeze breaks down and tells them what they want to know.

They were playing good cough bad cough.

Lady Of The Night

Pale and pasty in day’s stark light,

Radiant in sun’s wake.

She dominates her domain,

Steals all attention

From uncounted stars.

The heavens dim in deference

To her glowing crown

When she floats

Across the stage of night.

She enchants

With her cyclic dance

As slowly she unveils

Her perfect cratered face.

Oceans rush at her whim,

She lures the seedling from the seed.

And wild dogs sing to her

Revered one of Pagan rite.

Beloved moon muse

Is this a love in vain?

Are you just another

Lady of the night?

This Isn’t Over

Fear, uncertainty and doubt or FUD —

A subversive marketing strategy

To undermine competitors.

I don’t have competitors

But I have a FUD engine.

Uncertainty and doubt are old friends,

I know how to play their game,

And how to not lose.

Fear is the big guns.

Fear is entirely reasonable.

Gone are all the inflated claims

Of its siblings uncertainty and doubt.

Fear doesn’t go for the throat.

Fear doesn’t go for the heart.

Fear doesn’t go for the gut.

Fear doesn’t fight fair.

Fear doesn’t fight at all.

But it leaves you bleeding on the floor

With blood on your own hands.

.

I write myself a note.

In blood.

On the bathroom tiles.

This isn’t over.