Three Words

We’ve all met them.

They permeate certain

parts of the air.

Some of us breathe them in,

some of us too open to speaking, engaging.

Then they talk to us.

Tangling inside,

worming away,

segmenting,

they make us listen.

We can’t shut them out.

 

One is a sepia photograph,

with tendrils to the past,

turning happiness a different colour.

Memories invoke such desire,

an agonising state

where one of your rooms has been locked

and inside; a fire.

Burning all this time,

but you have neither key or water.

He won’t let you put it out.

 

One is an ocean,

at such a hue

to make you think of nothing,

and everything.

Find meaning in all things

but also no consequence

in anything.

You can only take the well trodden path

of the lonely, sad and pensive.

This is a quiet place,

locked away too.

Nothing moves in a straight line.

He won’t let you speed up.

 

There’s another,

a darker being.

Animalistic.

Less careful,

more powerful.

I don’t believe I’ve met him.

Perhaps I’ve seen him,

his back turned

or felt his presence close by.

Maybe he’s searched and I’ve avoided his eye.

I hope he never catches me with full glare.

He doesn’t talk,

simply turns all the lights off,

replaces them with dimmer bulbs

that can flicker to life

when he wants them too.

He’s a destroyer,

the two his helpers.

 

It’s that time of year again,

an end and a beginning.

The time when you’re meant to make things happen.

But I will probably visit a park,

one with a view,

sit on the swing

and hopefully see something new.

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Seeing

I went to the lighthouse this afternoon. It was a nice day, a little windy but the sun was out. I bought myself a milkshake. In the time I spent there it was depressing to see the amount of people who were there not to enjoy the view or the simple fact of being outdoors, but to capture the perfectly framed selfie.

A twist this way and that, a snap, and they were on their way. They pretend they’ve had this great experience in a beautiful place and they haven’t at all. They’ve spent two minutes looking at a screen looking to impress people who are all probably doing the same thing.

The fact is there was so much to see that they missed while they were busy manufacturing fiction. Two pelicans gliding on the wind together, three surfers off the rocks trying their luck, a couple huddled together on an outcrop, a kayaker fighting the chop, a windsurfer battling solo, fishermen methodically casting out, the changing hues of the sea as it rocked and rolled, 2d ships anchored on the horizon, the first signs of spring as the seagulls got busy with each other.

These things.. are life. It is happening, it is moving forward and stopping to watch is as much meaning as one is going to get. I stood amongst bodies moving back and forth and it struck me that I was the only one seeing these things. These things are life, the photo on your screen is nothing. It’s not an indication of your time spent. If it was it would show your eyes closed.

Mood Music – Episode 2

While the last mood setter was very much about the music, this one is about the lyrics and the writing. This comes from Australian (Melbourne-based) singer Marcus Teague.

I’ve listened to a lot of music in my lifetime and I have to say he’s my favourite songwriter. What he writes is poetic and the inflection he puts into his delivery is always touching.

He evokes so many emotions and the composition of the music never fails to blend perfectly with the melancholy his voice conveys.

This song is called ‘Came Home Dead’ and it’s quite a heart-wrenching story that flows more like a narrative poem than a song, with no chorus or repeated verses.