visual puns



It is

Blessed are those who seek 

what they can’t see

Some mumbling bumbling 


Jewelled demons claw at you

They speak without voice

Only need a few dollars

Employer of choice.


If it hides, light its darkness

If it fights, set it free

No actor can act 

what a being can’t be.


The dancers deceive us

Sweet night set us free

This turbid green liquor 

Herein lies the sea


Open the window

Take in the air

Bathe in the lamplight

Reject every care


Concrete and fences

All guide your way home

But it’s too late

And it feels late

Because it is late

And we commiserate that

In the end

We’re all










But that’s ok. 




Gate, gate, paragate



Devoid of hate

Or was it something that I ate?



The drips coalesced and ran together, luminescent colours warping, streaking images of the passing cityscape. The car slipped through the night like some alien craft across an infinite sheet of pitch. I could hear the rain, barely audible over the hum of the engine. Small drops, trembling at the edge of the window before losing traction and falling into darkness. My own boundaries had faded, my motions automatic. I was consumed within the symphony of the storm. White lights, yellow lights, shifting, streaming, Red. The intersection was empty. In this stillness the fall of the rain seemed impossibly immediate. Endless. Universal. I was suddenly gripped with a fear that the storm would soon pass and I would be left alone in my car, tyres squeaking on renewed asphalt. But for now the drops fell. Green. A few minutes more and I would be at home, feeling the cold sting of the water on my face as I walked to the door. And then…. but now. The lights stretched, the engine growled. Distant thunder. Rain rushed by, flicked away playfully, across the windscreen, surprised in headlights, geometric collections, an unrepeatable instance, lost as soon as realised. 

I remember, half a lifetime ago, walking through Dorrigo National Park with my uncle. It began to rain. “So this is a real rainforest.” I said. It was beautiful. The little light that filtered through the canopy collected in shifting, muted beams. The leaves themselves rustled and swayed. The smell of damp earth and the feeling of dead leaves underfoot… and the sound. Every leaf, every piece of bark or undergrowth moved and echoed the rain. True surround sound. The less I held onto my concentration the more I seemed to hear. The wind whipped up a crescendo of drops, pattering high above, and all around. Everything moved together. The beat of the rain was everywhere. And at every pitch. And yet few drops made it down to us. Diverted along the massive trunks and branches, the water added to the softening mud underfoot. We were protected. While the wind and rain whipped above and away and beyond us.




I have seen the last minds of my generation
Lost to mediocrity
Fiscally rationalised
Mere echoes of humanity
The creatives of accounting
Gut busting
Soul rusting
Calorie counting
Silently shouting
And plugged in
Logged on
Drunk and fucked up
Diversely lucked out
And royally won over
Unbent to the common good
Unresolved to fight a fight
Not good, or bad or plain irreverant
Potentially potent
Oppressively opportunistic
Absurdity absolute
These have never been Beings but broad bent bullies of the intellect
Lamenting every attempt
Afraid to try less they fail
Too scared to dream less they fly
And never land
And stare straight into the grand ugly void of the newly conscious
The sign of life which bemoans the density of bouyant self-destructive transformation
Adrift in the wheel of the real
The whirled world
Spiralling ever farther from that heavenly host
Smashed like concrete
Twisted like steel
Filtered like dust
Into the gaping maw of the less of the less of the less of the less obvious
Like leopard print zebras
Drinking lemonade
From a clarinet
Melting like a sunday
Enduring like a Thursday
Backfilling the dock of ages
Flipping like the last high-wire trapese-man
Flat out like the rebellious tap dancer
Crumpled like a two-for-one voucher
Empty as a first generation ipod dock
Filtered like dust
Falling like an angel
Playing on light and shadow
Unseen and revealed
Lost and brilliant