the Reaper’s shadow

There once was a girl so full of life, fight and PROMISE

She’d put the world to rights and the crooked honest

She’d dream on a rock of Teresa & Joan,

the world she would conquer and heal on her own

She left men speechless their minds blown,

old women wept at the joy she bestowed

One day as she dreamed a shadow fell upon her

and into her ear the Reaper whispered the day he’d keep her

And even though that day was years away the shadow never left & she grew old.

But never really lived



I stand in awe at the majesty of the mighty Kauri tree,

but reflect not on the decades it took to get there.

I sit in serenity gazing at a snow-capped mountain range,

oblivious the violence that created them.

I shed no tear for those swept away in another third-world flood,

and blind I remain to this day of the injustice which perpetuated it.



My daze is induced by the monotonous days I sit at my desk my mind lost in a haze

groggy. hour after unproductive hour falls away as I watch the hands of my life tick-tock bye,

punching in and out of shift after shift one hour on the beach would breathe more life than this,

money crazed slavery to a system whose ideals don’t inspire me

but instead enslave and drain the creative

promising freedom there is no redeeming the captivity I’m in

no amount of gold is worth a life




If it rains on the rich and the poor,

if the sun shines on the hard worker and those who snore

if cancer catches the liar and corrupts the healer

then why do I look on my wealth as a sign of approval

each dollar a gold star on my good-life tick chart

justifying behaviour because I am blessed

when maybe I’m blessed to take care of those I call Less




Prose delivered by the pro’s,

he who articulates wins every debate

wise words pull the eyes in a certain direction, tugging on heartstrings and illuminating the unseen

rhyme over reason,

even treason is palatable when the ears are tickled with honey lips



long lost friend


She longs for your touch, does mother earth

you used to be close, you’d roll in the dirt


fresh cut spring grass bouncing between your running toes,

summer baked sea salt crackling from an ear-to-ear grin,

pausing to inhale autumn’s fragrance, one cracked leaf at a time,

being swept along as winter’s melancholy melody  rains upon your face,

you used to be close, you and mother earth


but now your shoes stay on, and you stay inside

eyes trapped by a tiny screen you see nothing of the wild,

you’re often sad and depressed, too busy to smell nature

tired and rundown,

when did you last play with your maker



before I do

When freedom isn’t freeing,

and belief shatters your faith.

When grace brings condemnation,

and judgement takes love’s place.

When numbers are not crucified,

and we covert a kingdom cup.

When new realities are preached,

while old ones are lived out.

When politics drive promise,

and people are busied with promotions.

When vision is as fickle as the wind,

and the most important meetings are whispered.

When the meal is dished out and no longer served,

 and I can’t stomach the food that we’ve poisoned.

That is when I’ll walk away,

before I do.




I am

I wish I was blind and did not see

I wish I had no conscience, or just didn’t believe

I wish I could drift from want to want, to want

I wish I looked at you and felt no response

I wish I could lobotomise myself one purchase after another

I wish I could close my eyes and slip below time

I wish I looked at the ground and never saw a line

I wish all these things, but without me seeing,

you would never have seen me, I would cease to be being.



Death’s door: a sequel

I am half-way to knocking

Will the 2nd half be a money grabbing sequel, where substance and searching sell-out for money and lame

parasitically feeding off nostalgic memories while leaving my mind malnourished in the now

satisfied in my well-worn rut

I’ve grooved my groove, there’s safety in the trenches, history’s ghostly fingers blinding and bending the possibilities of tomorrow, limiting the limitless

hope is my litmus test

Dare to care is subversive in this cynical-risk-aversive universe, verses scribbled by prophets long ago propagate and propel propaganda and politics, rants mistaken for giving a shit.

Dare to care but buyer beware, good intentions will ensnare your soul proclaiming you old, leaving you with fool’s gold at the tip of your touch as wisdom lingers in ink unwritten

the flame flickered falsely, just long enough to consume me