Today’s Thought

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Meditation changed my life. If you haven’t tried it or think its hippy dippy nonsense then you will never understand the relief that comes from escaping yourself for 30 minutes. The first time I meditated, I woke to discover that the person I thought I was never truly existed. At 25 years old I met myself for the first time.

Morning Coffee Stop

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I wander for a while on polished tiles

and never consider slipping

or melting under the neon lights

of commodities blanket halls

I glimpse outside

and the sky tells a lie

the day should wake

but it is night-time still

a grey day consuming

the should-be summer haze

I raise my Mocha “To Death”

saving nothing for life

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sisterhood

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There is a joy of sisters

who know both the Sun and the Moon of our soul

and the constellations of our mind

Who breathe the light that radiates from our eyes

and grieve with us the death of a smile

Who know the beauty of a teardrop

falling gently on a naked shoulder

The salty sting to bind them in

an embrace only felt by sculptures

 moulded side by side

Summertime

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There’s an invisible barrier

separating my skin from the warm caress of this Thursday afternoon

A shield to guard the realm of my infinite body

the one inside that sometimes sneaks out to play under the summertime sun

One that kisses the molecules of water

rising unbeknownst to most men

I shyly embrace the flowers between my toes

as  though they had snuck here in a sinister manner

like the neighbour boy

through a window

trying not to be seen

My feet and hands walk the wooden stairs to my manicured garden

turning away from the freshly trimmed grass to admire the weeds

and watch I will

the wavering clouds that say goodbye with such delight

They will not rain down today

and wash away this infinite girl who glides through the day

as one glides on ice

 

Neighbourly

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There is this human predicament

that grows in a place

we believe our hearts to live

It’s that sudden impulse

to turn away

when the fear of lingering eyes

and another human’s thoughts

force us to retreat

as though we are so sure of defeat

in this war of concern

~

The myth of standing out and being seen

There’s a cat that cries but you do not comfort

because you never paid the money for it

It’s the myth of money in exchange for ownership

and so I let it cry

~

Once again I retreat inside

to the comfort of a couch

paid for with my very own fantasy

The ultimate lie, I think

is that we step on stones

afraid to move one from its place

Multi-coloured minerals made into a multitude of shapes

admired for the difference

and yet I shudder as my feet kick them

from that comfortable place called “next door neighbour’s home”

just as I shudder to pat the cat

following me down the road

Food Market

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Scents collapse into each other

like a tower made of butter

melting under a hot fan

A chaotic mess of multiple places

permeating the creases of my skin

so that I may taste

with every inch of my body

Every cell salivates and dances with joy

my face – an expression no human has ever seen

for it is a look unique to me

 

The Poet

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If I do not write

I will die at the Devil’s gate

waiting for him to scold me

like a child

the wooden spoon given as a gift

from one who has decided not to breathe anymore

I write as one gasps for air

after lingering under the waves for too long

wading through the ocean foam

my hands carving letters into the sand

before the tide takes them away

I long to etch them deep

so that these words will stay

a maddening dash of pure expression

along the shore of some nameless beach in Wollongong