the basement of civilisation ensnares humans with a lust for survival, outside the shining dawn draws them out of corners newcomers are swallowed behind doors into the doll’s houses of emotion human nature walks away from the poor slipping through the cracks of humanity misery leaves childhood behind in the wind and the rain, the…
They’re watching me over every shoulder reading my emails following every footstep into the shadows every key stroke every thought worried about revolution but they are part of the problem
My heart aches for Australia Beats with sorrow For the women that walk the streets When night time falls Luring men to their fate For she is nature And men need to rise above Soft maidens and wine To reach their angels Waiting patiently at home Expecting him to be faithful With aching hearts
I come from my country Where Thursday frost sparkles Beneath my feet Some wear their national identity Like a cloak, but mine Is more like a well-worn cardigan Comfortable and familiar Somewhere in the bottom of my closet I wear it for old time’s sake But most of the time it is just there In…
good men brave and true do not fear the leap into danger it is for women and children to sit home and quiver until the good men do not return
Sunlight falls on a face in the crowd in an eternal dance of fleshly pleasure; heavy is the sadness of the world.
Spontaneous fun away from the pressures of life rather than hanging lifeless with fear at the newsfeed on my phone while toast burns and the kettle boils like a gargoyle I am no brave hunter heading into the night the fireside provides comfort, but fears