Excerpt for ARTISHA - Lonely Letters by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

.ARTISHA.

CLOUD NINE.

Just want to spend a little time,

floating on cloud nine.

Want to escape to the outer space.

Get off this planet.

Get off my face.

I need to get beyond this cloud eight.

Go further than just feeling great.

I see the world drift away.

And get smaller and smaller.

No visitor, no midnight caller.

My bean stalk grows taller and taller.

Get higher and higher.

I've got my wings now.

I'm a real high flyer.

Circling on a thermal,

spinning on a thought.

It must be this stuff I bought,

that's got me feeling fine.

I'm on cloud nine.

G.L.S.

It's all over.

The party's over for the green leaf soldier.

Two days before she again is sober.

She can't believe what you told her.

She lets her hair dance in the wind.

She lets her hair down.

Hits the wild side of this little country town.

Show the world that she is a real mean girl,

as the head does whirl.

Now she's spinning.

No chance of winning,

this battle with pain.

Cause she will have to,

come back down to earth again.

She feels crook and that's how she does look.

Week after week,

same page,

same book.

She can't handle the flame and the candle.

She feels ashamed,

she feels as if she is to blame.

Wishes she could remember,

wishes she could forget.

But she will be back fighting...

the internal conflict once more.

Because the war has not been won quite yet.

The music in her head has stopped

and now the party's over for the green leaf soldier.

TIME WASTED.

If I can't say what is on my mind.

I am wasting my time.

Am I wasting my time?

We have known each other long enough...

to be honest to each other.

I told you from the start,

you will only be a good friend.

But you can never be my lover.

But now you are implying that more is expected from me.

And when I told you...

the way I want and will only let it be.

You start yelling at and cursing me.

If I can't speak my mind without you losing your cool.

It's time to leave this thing behind.

Please don't waste my time.

AS FAR AWAY.


Nothing seems as far away as you. It's hard to think of our love as once true. I feel closer to the most distant star, when we're at the points, at which we now are. I'm sure you are on the dark side of the moon. Even though you too are in this very room. But silence and gloom fills this space. Distance consumes this place. I can't reach you, no matter what I try, anyway. From each other we're too far away. And what makes all this so much worse, is that you await my arrival to your side of the universe. You sit patiently watching the sky for me to arrive in your galaxy. But I'm afraid you're at a destination that is not for me. You're on a planet that will never be my place to be. Nothing seems as far away as you.

MEANINGLESS POEM.


Here's another meaningless poem.

Words conveying thoughtless ideas,

useless thought.

Stupidity of sorts.

Why do I try to convey things...

not worth me putting the effort into saying.

Drawing pictures of the unknown...

artist and artform.

I put all my energy into telling the world what `I' feel.

But they reply

"You're crazy. This emotion is not valid or real."

But this poem isn't meaningless.

Because it has meaning to me.

It enables me to set my frustration free.

It validates my existence as a human,

with associated traits.

I use it as an expression of my loves and hates.

So no this is not another meaningless poem,

one more lot of works of the self prisoner of war.

There are many reason,

all of which you will never understand,

why I write these poems for.

A LETTER FROM A FELLOW DREAM POET.


I cried when I read your poem. I could only think of the many times, I felt the same or similar. I was inspired to show my friends my poems, not that they could ever say what you said so well. Not that they are any good anyway. But like you once did say, you can be too critical of your own work, sometimes.

My friends have encouraged me to... get some of my works published. So I write to let you know that the local University has... published my first in print poem. It is not much but it's a start. Better to start even if you don't finish. At least you've given it a try, I reckon. Thanks for the encouragement, the inspiration and for being one of the few people, who are true to themself. Keep writing, keep dreaming, keep being you. Artistic Love... a dream poet like yourself.

THE GRAVE SLAVE.


Dig your own grave.

Be your own slave.

Put your will in an envelope,

mark it NO HOPE.

Lick your stamp.

Send your thoughts to the mental boot camp.

Return your ghost via the post.

Write letters to yourself twenty years from now.

Express what you don't feel,

if you know how.

Just to see where you really have got from here.

Or maybe you will still be digging your own grave,

being your own slave.

T.Y.O.M.


Tentacles of your mantles, wrapping around my heart, squeezing it from it's shell. Suck-tap, suck-tap goes your sucktion cap grip. Trying to rip my soul from my body. But they are now one? You'll have to take all not some. Consume all of my being, or let me be. If you can't stomach it throw me back into the sea...

R.T.H.


Tearing my every thing through my chest. Use me to line your nest. Reaping the harvest. Hold myself above to show the world I love? you. And that I am your harvested yield. When before you, I kneeled asking not be treated so cruel. But the owner of the produce makes every rule. And you only want to be reaping the harvest. Not caring about... what happens to the remaining bits and pieces of the fruitage. And who has to put the puzzle back together. Or if it remains unsolved forever. You don't care, as long as you get... what you want.

SOFT AND BROKEN.


Her words are soft and broken, before the first is finished the next is spoken. She is shy and scared, never before has some cared, for her. Her words are soft and broken, I find it hard to completely understand, why she doesn't trust me. Her frail heart does crush me. If I get a hold of her love. It will have to be held forever. Cause I could harm her, never. Her words are soft and broken, on my lustful thoughts my mind is choking. I move closer to hear, better, trying to hold myself together. She flinches, moves away a few inches, then smiles and says, please hold me close for a while. I hold, touch and hug her, give her kisses that drug her. She is now mine, but this must be for all time. Her words are soft and broken. She says "Please leave me now, if you were lying or joking about loving me." I see a flood of tears dam up behind her light green eyes. I know that her advise to leave would be wise, if I planned to walk away unscarred. But how could I leave her soul burnt and charred. I took her unpicked flower, placed it in the vase, on the table, in the room of fondness. We both caressed, got dressed. Then just talked for another hour. Gave her my real phone number on a yellow card. And had a shower. She gave me a hearty breakfast, then kissed me. And said "I have to go to work, make sure you miss me." Her words are soft and broken, as she rang up later that day. Said "Make sure your sitting down, I've got something to say, I love you more than I thought I would or could. But no measure of tears will do any good, an unlikely door of opportunity has swung open. I must go far away, all I ask is remember, as I will, last night forever and a day. Can't write, can't drop you a line, just won't have the time. But don't worry, you will always be close to me, in this heart of mine." Her words were soft and broken. I think of her much, and pray that once again, we will be in touch.

MELINIE'S MELODY.


A melody for Melinie. A song to set these feelings free. To express what she does to me. Start to speak but I begin to choke. Put it to music, my emotions sing with every note. A symphony of the soul. To the tune in my head, my body does rock and roll. I would love to dance within her. And bring her to the point that she sings a new song. Together in harmony we play love's sweet tonious tune. And all her anxiety will disappear soon, after we start tapping our feet. To the beat of this heart felt piece. A way out, a release is Melinie's Melody.

LONELY LETTERS.


Nearly all my letters are letters to loneliness. My life is one story after another of such sucessless searching. One love then some love from any one lonely as I. Not too choosy about who receives and gives, to and from my heart. As it is already fallen apart, the pieces shared around, by passers by and the few friends of mine, that can be found. Nearly all my letters, are letters to loneliness. I know well the address of loneliness.

THE WINDOW OF PAIN.


I lay here in bed trying not to look out the window, I know I won't like what I see. How can I get better, if they let my eyes see this awful reality? The curtains are torn and the glass won't brake. The mirror won't shatter, only the dreams I have in my sleep, are things that seems to matter. Am I too late to get a new room? One, not so full of gloom. A view minus the doom. Wilted black roses sit pathetically in a cracked, dirty, grey vase. Blood of a past love, of a heart torn, is worn on the thorns like a widow's cloak. On tears and memories, I choke. Three half empty valium bars lie on the floor. Pictures of the last four world wars decorate the walls. Two big bouncer types, guard both the doors. Security grids cover the glass of the outside looking glass. So that I can't rid the world and myself of this agony. On the outside looking in are tearful faces, of people going no places but lost. Crime being committed in front of my very eyes. I could do something about it if... I was stronger... and more wise. I can't tell from fact and lies. I've been lied to, too much. I've lost touch with, the happy reality, that once was a real part of me. The T.V. screen screams out bad news, no matter which of the fifty seven channels I chose. Over the hospital P.A. they play, songs that chase away the final small piece of sanity, from my mind. Yes it's time, somehow I must find a way, of leaving it all behind. May be I should become selectively blind. Or just go and dream in my final sleep. Leave mind, body and soul buried deep in the soil of sorry. Never to see tomorrow. No more of someone else's smiles, do I need to burrow. For the finishing view, I look at you through these windows of pain.

LAST LETTER.


I've been wanting to send this letter for a long time. But been putting it off, like a visit to the dentist. I have got all your letters, the whole 110 that you sent to me during the last two years, since I left. In return I've sent you the occasional post card. With the "Hi how are you?" speel. Like before, when you and I were together, nothing from me was heart felt or real. I did not love you at all, just was telling you what you wanted to hear. Your letters have made me regret not being there for and loving you, but the emotions shown in those words, are not in my heart. Heartless I am, to play with your?... mind. Then leave you behind like a highway cafe, along the way to the destination...? I have already decided on. Here then gone. Sorry to destroy all your dreams, but that's all they ever were. I'm not good at saying sorry, goodbye and so forth. I guess I've said it all already. Thanks for the good times, shared. Remember life goes on. Find the pleasure beyond the pain. I know you will never forgive or forget me. I wish you well. Hope everything works out for you. Sorry if these words hurt you. But I'm afraid they're all true. I don't want you living a lie, like i always seem to do. Better to know the painful truth than believe a fanciful lie. So I guess this is so long and good bye. This time it's forever.

SONGS OF LONELINESS AND FREEDOM.


I was singing as I was walking along. Someone stopped me and said `from where did you get that song. I did reply from my heart, my soul and the very being of the crowd. That's why this song, to all does belong. He said sing it some more, sing clear and loud. So I sung it again as with a chewed on pen, he wrote the words down. He told me this was a special moment in his life, a true treasure he had found. Never met him again, but know now, that stranger is a friend. And just goes to show, something we all should know. Songs of loneliness and freedom. Even though we don't always want them, we always need them. A lyrical story of lost love, and a heart that's bleeding. I tried learning the guitar, gave up after a month or two, spent hours and hours practicing but realised that it was something I couldn't do. It just isn't my thing, myn is to write and sing. I may never find anyone to accompany me. But I still can let my lonely song free. I was listening to the radio a couple days ago, with a friend, rang up the D.J. and asked him to play the song we just heard again. It was played a second time and we swore we had heard that song before then. I said "I know, it is the song my soul, has been singing silently, for years." A song of yesterday's pain and yesterday's tears. My friend did agree, she said "it's the same song I've sung to myself in my head, silently." I saw the singer and writer of that song on rage. He said that he was inspired to write that song, after meeting a stranger singing as he was walking along. I then recognised him, he was the guy who wrote that song I sung, down on a empty diary page. The song was different to mine, but it had the same feeling that made it last the pass of time. Songs of loneliness and freedom. Don't always want them, but we always need them. A lyrical story of a lost love and a heart that's bleedin'.

T.P.


Once again I read some timeless poetry. I think of how it is you, how it is me. The words might the same not be. But the theme is for eternity, true. The feelings of the heart and soul. The lost with no where to go. The fight of love blow by blow. The song of happier days, life's little magical ways. I wish I could write such a master piece. Set free this captured beast, show the world that I have the same emotions as all do. Tell the neighbours about me and you, show them how the sky can always be fine weather blue. I may never express such things so masterfully. But what I do is express me. I take pen to paper inspired yet reluctantly, after I read some timeless poetry.

PAIN KILLER.


You're my pain killer, my silent thriller, you are my antidote of love and hope. You are my panadine, my happy hippy smoke, my better times to come, dream. You take away all the hurt. You bury the sad memories under a hundred feet of dirt. You retaliate the sorrow before it's too late. You stab, just like that, those who stab me in the back. You kill the reverse thrill. The frightening cold chill. When no

one else does you can and will, come to the rescue. I know I owe my sanity to you. No other lover kills pain as good as you do. Better than any high, you beat any chemical, with pleasure my body and soul you do fill. The rain only washes only half the agony away. But when you clean me of the stinging, it's gone to stay. My very being you cause to start singing. Stop my feet aching, my ears ringing. You're my pain killer. My silent thriller.

THE CREATION OF A GOD.


We are told by YOU that we should follow every step YOU ever trod. Who died and made YOU god? YOU beat us with... beat us with a golden sceptre and an iron rod. We're told to come to YOUR temple and congregate. But if YOU were divine, YOU would teach us love and truth, not lies and hate. The only thing I believe in is that we control our own fate. YOU say obey my command. But all YOUR words are written in someone else's hand. If YOU are the ONE, is this what YOU planned? Murder, War, Crime, Pain and Sorrow. Fix my today before you promise me tomorrow. All our money, to build YOUR kingdom, YOU permanently borrow, from us. We have sung YOUR praise but YOU never bring about those better days. We must kill as part as YOUR will. But I have faith in peace still. Why add to life's conflict. What is spoken does contradict. What makes me better than another? What gives me the right to take the soul of my brother. Difference make life worth living. So much for YOU being forgiving. Who died and made YOU god? You are not my GOD.

BECOMING.


A reporter for a fanzine, asked if she could love me. In reply I said "Yes as you are not above me." That very same, young lady asked if she could write an article on me. I returned "that depends on what... side of the truth you see." I don't mind criticism, even close to the bone. As long as... it's not too close to home. Will she sell her side of the story, for the `movie rights'? For the fame, for the money? I might be paranoid, but all my lovers bar one have left me in a vicious volcanic void. I used to trust every one before... my star had it's chance and shone. Even though everything has gone, my way, everything has gone wrong. Do you love me or my image or my song? I had recently found lost friends that I don't remember losing. I have been invited to parties were I don't know a soul. In me a tiny bit of curiosity says I'll come, but the most of me tells myself not to go. This notoriety has caused a lot of upset. I can't understand it all yet. This's nothing like what I tried to get. Will I burnout, without getting a chance... to tell the world what I'm all about? Will I just be another sex idol for the love deprived youth? Will I become their biggest lie, or their secret truth? What will I become? Down what road will this out of control bus run? What have I become?

FLESH AND BLOOD.


I am your own flesh and blood, but no love is felt in my heart for you. Nothing can make up for the evil things you did do. The lies that did disguise the monster within. The thought of you causes me to creep, like spiders crawling on my skin. I can't hate you, you're not worth hating. The feelings I feel have no word, They're impossible for me to be relating to someone else. Feel so much by myself. Like the only stepping stone, in a brook, every one steps on me. I'm lost because of the things you took, NO, stole from my world. I am the son of "Your little girl." My childhood has no white pearl. Just pain over and over again. In younger days I planned to blow you away. But lucky things fell apart before they got out of hand. I think I would still break both your legs if I ever met you. How can someone I never met, haunt me all my life? Your name cuts like a knife, chopping pieces of peace out of my mind. How can I leave this hideous Halloween behind? I don't know my betrayer. My happiness slayer. And I wish not to see you at anytime of my life. And yet there are so many questions I need ask, that even you can't answer. Why? I am your own flesh and blood, but no love is felt in my heart for you.

THE ANONYMOUS POEM OF AN UNKNOWN MASSACREIST.


You're at war with the world. You’re in conflict with this reality, this is not the way it's meant to be. Brought yourself, a gun, dead fifty one people, each an enemy, each a victim. Suffering like you, it seems like the humane thing to do. Held up in a hotel, torched it. What the hell. Voices, control you, with the instructions that they tell you. No you reply, but brake down and cry... "I see you're right, I see why." Why we all must die. To heaven will be where the good go, but those like us off to hell we fly. Lay down your head in shame, hate, rage, and pain. Now you know, you will never feel this way again. Rests the gun on your shoulder, bang, last thoughts... suffering is over, red, blue, white. Nothing but light, it's all over.

BLEEDING PEN.


My pen bleeds. As my heart needs, to say what is dammed up inside. Words can no longer hide behind... cliqued niceties. As the poles collide. And does freeze, frozen to the core. No warmth anymore. The sun has left our solar system, in search of another one, in disgust. Disgusted with our... gross greed and butchering blood lust. "Oh these things are not happening, it's just the illusion of a false conclusion. We have it under control." The political powers and kings of commerce say to us. Bull shit. How come when asked a simple question, behind some double talk and legal jargon, they run and hide. But them and us can't hide. Things are not getting better as a whole, crime escalates, wars still rage, the environment is on the verge of extinction. Cultures disappear like dew drops in the midday summer sun. There will be no where to find shelter, until the only blood spilt, the only pain felt will be that of the blood on the written page, written by the last bleeding pen.

INSIGNIFICANT.


It all pales to insignificance, next to you. When I'm next to you. There's nothing more important tonight, than to make you myn. Under the night's celestial light. Peace and war don't matter anymore. Cause everyone wouldn't be fighting if they could only find, the love we have found on this island shore. There wouldn't be the problems with the environment... If people weren't so greedy and making love not conflict was how their time was spent. The stars spell out your name. After this magical moment nothing will seem the same. Compared to you everything seems plain. The beauty I once knew and enjoyed, with out you in it will feel like a void. You complete the picture, you complement the wall and the frame. And the back and the fore ground. You are the best thing I've ever found. It all pales to insignificance, next to you. When I'm next to you.

HOW CONFUSING.


Confusing you, confusing me. Confusing falsity with reality. Hard to tell when both look and feel virtually the same, One is life, the other is a life like game. Opening up all sorts of possibilities, new horizons. Conflicting views, is the article you read in the paper truth, or just another way of selling and circulating news? A million more shades of blues. What to believe, what avenue to choose. Everything once was a lot more simpler, a lot more people orientated, now it's technology concentrated. Forgetting the individual, mass media communicated. Mind excavated, mined of their most precious thoughts. Back filled with all sorts of trashy info. Nothing you want or need to know. Making cultural heritage, a visage of their T.V. culture, modernised for lazy imagination, minds and eyes. Told we are the same, but it's not quite that plain. We have a spirit of ancestry laid in our hearts like trax of a train leading to a dream time. A place of divine, we can only live together, once we realise who we are, what is our heritage, inheritance, the long forgotten handed down tribal dance. Then learning to love and forgive, live with one another as a fellow human, a sister, a brother. No wonder we are lost. They are confusing you, they are confusing me.

RECOVERY.


I am waiting for the Recovery. I know they will rediscover me. I know that once more I will be free. Hoping that you still have my life in your memory. All Wednesday and Thursday I was depressed. But I knew that on Saturday I won't feel so sad. Friday night I was trashed. Saturday morning I don't feel half as bad. Watching videos clips on the T.V. Hoping that one day, that one of those will be me and my reality. I write my emotions down on paper, and sing them as a song in my head. But need to share them so they can live on, a long time after I'm dead. My wings, my heart, my voice are all on the mend. It won't be much more time and then I'm ready again. I fed my soul on jazz, blues and rock and roll. I'm sure that I will not need any rest any more. All I need is a chance to prove, that this mountain I can move. I have all you need. And all need is... for you to give me a go. All I want is to be on your music show. Please just give me a go. I am waiting for the Recovery.

THE OTHER SIDE.


The other side... of me. The shaded part of my reality. Something you would rather not see. The bad fruit of my tree. The room with secrets kept under lock and key. The slave that should never be set free. Everyone has contradictions in their life. Everyone sometime in their time questions their convictions and values. Thoughts grind in my mind. Eyes glaze. What I do may amaze. It may also frighten those looking on. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to harm or upset anyone. But I sometimes find weird and strange ways to enjoy myself and have fun. I ain't the same man I was yesterday, I won't be tomorrow, what I am today. Keep clear and out of my way. Take more notice of my moods than what I say. Just remember there is more than one side of a person. Three sides of a prism. Multi dimensional, multi directional. Go this way then the opposite way. Too much bordom when the same, I stay. So you might like what I am now, but you won't likely appreciate what I am next. The other side... of me.

R.T.W.


You give me reason to write. I can express the way I feel, though I'm reluctant to reveal... what is in my heart and on my mind. Words don't flow easily when... In person. I don't have to tell you what... you already likely guessed or already know. I write poem and pro, with expressions of love and passion, that face to face I can't speak. I am shy and weak. An escape I seek, from this yearning, to have you learning what I wish for us. Is it more than mere lust? Find the answer, it is a must. I will hide these works of art in my dressing table, then one day maybe someone will find them. And get them published and the world will say "This was inspired by love deep from the heart." You give me reason to write. It's just a shame... that I don't share them. And bring them to the light of day.

N.C.B.


Never could be. I'm tempted to let out the fire that burns within me. But I would only torch your heart. Like a candle in a dark room. Melted wax tears landing on the saddened surface of the madness moon. I want to tell you, how I feel. But my dream will never come to be real. We're too far apart. Nothing in common. Not a thing to share. Even though I care for you. My heart only lusts. It will never love you true. And we will only end up drowning in each other's sea of cruelty. So it's probably best that it... could never be.

OBVIOUS.


I guess it must be obvious, the way I feel for you. You're in my every conversation. You influence everything I do. I can't get my mind off you at all. I've been told, your name in my sleep I call. From the time you pass by, I had caught your eye, you, my heart. From that time on time on, the change did start. Never been the same since. Made this toad into a prince. I'm happier, I'm easier to get along with. What is this high, which to me you give? A reason to really live. Smiling in the rain, nothing is ever a pain. If I'm asked if I'm in love, I will foolishly deny it. Even though I can't hide it. Like so many times before, I let pass what I'm really looking for. The gossip is? It's none of their business. But the way I feel for you, is pretty obvious, I guess.

S.A.B.


Scratch like a cat, bite like a dog. Heaven how many roads you have trod. You have no faith and no god. Run with the mob. You mind your own, while you're left alone. But cornered you put up a strong fight. Teeth clenched, fist tight. It's going to be a long night. Why should you take this from them, again and again? Pulling no punches whether they are stranger or friend. You finish the argument, you bring it to it's end. You will take no rubbish from anyone, is the message you send. You scratch like a cat, bite like a dog.

HIDE THE SECRETS.


Sometimes the secrets are best left unknown. It hurts too much, to know everything all the time. You have your mysteries, I have mine. Don't look too deep and everything will be fine. Why uncover such painful things. The ache, the truth brings, isn't worth the price or the sacrifice, of sanity. Put pen to paper, start a letter. Try to make things better, between us. I didn't think you would understand my past. And talking about it seems to make the memories last, longer than they should. Sometimes mere facts do you no good. And emotions are too painful to explain. I let it all wash away in the rain. A lot of it I forget myself, for sake of my mental health. I really didn't lie, just didn't want to make you cry. The sadness of my life before you, is too true. But all of that I wish to leave behind. I bury the truth to keep a balanced mind. Sometimes the secrets are best left unknown.

OUT OF SYNC.(HER SONG.)


She sings out of sync. She has had too much to drink. The songs she sings, a messy melody that speaks what she feels and thinks. This song, her song, the world can't help but sing along. The story is so universal. Like the line "Every love seems like a rehearsal, for the real thing." When will she get to play the sweet finale. Dancing in the rain to her hurt heart ballet. Not just the words, but her tone of voice helps to say what she has inside. Begging to be let out into the open. To be spoken. To be shared. She sings out of sync. She has had too much to drink. The songs she sings, a messy melody that speaks what she feels and thinks.

This is her song.

TEARS TO CRY.


All she wants is just a tear to cry. Because she don't know why, she cries no more. She still feels the pain, she has felt before... This dry spell. And the water that once ran from her eyes helped wash away, forlorn. Nothing left to drop in the wishing well. And help a new day grow and be born. But now she wants more. Than just a cheap antidote of tomorrow's never to come hope. And stars that guide her to nowhere. Some echo of the way to go. To lift her up from this lost low. While she is this way. She won't be able to show what is in... her heart. There's tears in her heart. All she wants is another tear to cry.

NOT LISTENING.


You don't listen to what I say. I just don't seem to get through to you. To fall in love again is something I don't want to do. You can't get the point, that I can't be your Baby. I just want a good friend who will leave me to be, to stay free. Fly like an osprey over the open sea. Don't put the pressure on, don't come on too strong. If you do, all communication will be gone. What do you want from this situation? Be patient and keep cool. Lust can make a wise man, a fool. If anything is to happen between us, it is to happen slowly and soully on my terms. But first of all listen to what I say. And let time lead... the come what may. And enjoy every day we spend together. And I will be your friend true, forever.

MORE TO ME.


What will I become when the moon collides with the sun? What will I become when everything turns into none? Where will I be when there is no more life left in the sea?


What will I be when there is nothing free? What will I do when the world is brought to an end by you. I guess there is many more worlds than just my one, of golden sandy shores, and skies of insight blue. Now I see there is more to me, than just you.

WHY YOU DON'T SUCCEED.


Many a dream unfulfilled, many a hope slaughtered and killed, by the over confident and over eager. Deconstructing every road, cause you think you know, you won't need to go, back there again. But you can always do with another way to go. And another friend. Too sure, that you can go it alone. That you don't need anyone, anymore. Throwing away the very things... you were looking for. Losing out by any one's score. Cause you are always over confident and over eager.

MY PRECIOUS, SPECIAL FRIEND.


I haven't been truly honest with you. I told you, I just wanted to be a friend. But that's not entirely true. I would love to love you. But I value your friendship above all else. Even the pleasure of physically pleasing you. Cause I'm afraid that, that might change the way you feel about me. Make me somehow more disposable. I'm sure that you're the one, but I'm unsure if you feel similar. Or if I make my move, you will tell me to go and groove elsewhere. I can handle the disappointment. I just can't handle the thought of... you asking me to never return. If I have ever learned anything in life, it is to make someone your friend. Before

you make them your lover, if you want the friendship to last. Even then I may find that I get tired of loving you and wish to move on. While your want of me, is still strong. So thus I either live a lie by your side or leave you for good. I don't think I could, do either. The kisses I give you now, are somehow an apology and a symbol of my deep affection for you. Even though I won't go to the point of telling you, my feelings. If you ever read or hear this... it may explain a little, my confused dealings. My on and off signals like walk and don't walk signs. I am always of two minds. Maybe I do obey my mind too much. I'm fearful of the consequence of letting my heart be touched. It has already been crushed. To me, love has so far equalled loss. I can't lose you, I value your friendship too much. So as a fool, I watch you search amonst the bunched up school for "your perfect match." "The Catch." While he, I mean I, sit there wishing that things were somehow different. But I'm content even with this little loneliness, to have you as my special friend.

WAITING FOR THE STING.


Since I met you I've noticed the beauty of everything. I have seen for the first time what joy, life does bring. But now I'm waiting for the sting. Nothing doesn't have an after affect. With love comes scars to collect. Pain to perfect, undesirable desires to direct. Mistakes to try to correct. What has no price, is not worth purchasing. But what if you don't have more to give? You wish to no longer live. In fear of the price being too dear. Well what am I doing here? Waiting for the sting.

DRY LAND.


Trying to surface, reaching the air, before I run out of it. Out of my element, in deep, suffocating in saturaunts. The feeling of claustrophobia in the open ocean. Watching the sun shine sheets of light, down into the depths. The sea weed and coral catching my thoughts like nets. I kick attempting to move upwards but I just tread water. The sharks circle me with interest. Waiting for the best chance to make me, their own. I stare them out. My lungs feel as if they will implode and explode at the same time. Slowly I make my way towards the top. Reaching the surface at last. Breath deep and fast. Enjoying every atom of oxygen. I am safe on dry land again.

S.M.I.


A mind full of self made illusions. He does not know where he is. In a state of confusion. Been like this for a long while. His face loses it's smile. This time he will end from the start. His mind talks and yells at his heart. "What a mess!" he repeatedly says, "What a mess!" What was the cause of his stress? Too much contemplating the meaning of meaningless fax. The time has come to sit down and relax. In an almost empty room sits two red leather seated, black wooden framed chairs.

A&A.


Albert is a red leather seated, black wooden framed chair. As is Alice. They sit contently conversing about the latest articles in "Furniture Today". Until in walks a well built body builder and his petite and pretty girlfriend, into the almost empty room. The young lady is invited to make a choice of chair, she picks Alice, for her feminie air. While the man takes Albert as his seating. Albert creeks, groans and strains under the weight of the enormousness of the competition addicted competitor. Whyle Nicki hardly even feels anything at all as the woman moves little bit by little bit till she is completely comfortable. The human couple discuss what to do, surf the trash filled commercial crammed channels of the cable connected cheaply bought T.V. Starve the square head entertainer of power once more. Then decide to go out for tea. They leave the room, almost empty. The classroom type wall clock ticks it's tock, to the annoyance of Albert and Alice. Who have went back to their discussion of tasmanian hoop pine tables. Stop watching time Albert cracks angrily at the time piece as it's batteries run flat. Albert and Alice snooze silently side by side. In an almost empty room sleep two red leather seated, black wooden framed chairs.

COFFEE STAINS.


The coffee stains on this letter I've written you. Must tell you that I've been upset lately, cause I never drink coffee or tea unless I'm upset. Forgotten why I'm writing you, not really just don't know how to say this... I know about you and Stevie. She is a good friend of mine too. It's hard to understand your choice. You never seemed like the gay or bi type. But I guess it's impossible to know what another person is really like. I found out a week before I left so suddenly for Melbourne. I wanted to give you and myself time to think things over. I want to let you know that I never cheated on you. That night I went home with Becky, after we did the dishes at your parents' 30th anniversary party. Becky And I only talked, Becky told me that you would never stop loving me. And I know that's true. May be that's why you lied about... you never seeing anyone else. You were afraid that I would leave you. And you would be alone, all by yourself, once more. I aren't the type to sleep around, not anymore. But neither am I the jealous type. So I won't ask you to leave or to stop seeing Stevie. If you like, you can go and see Stevie or whoever else, whenever you like but please be open and honest. I do love you more than anything. So give me your decision when I return back to Brisbane in another month's time.

BORDOM.


The bordom sets in, the rythm of life replaced by a drome. Sick of going out, not content with staying home. Sleep seems like a good option. Used to sleep only when there was nothing to miss out on, feeling of defeat, wanting to retreat into dreams. A means of escape, too hard, too much effort to think, only depressed by thought. Has it all been said and done? Who stole the high? Nothing but a low, nothing to do, no where to go. Excitement becomes an exodus. Give it all a miss. Trying to draw but only draw on these emotions of this boring day. Pictures of grey circles and black squares. Does it say what I'm feeling? Who cares? Brake the pencil in two. Cursed, lack of imagination. Just can't use the situation to my benefit. Things will improve tomorrow or the next day. Can't be bored like this forever, anyway. Certainly hope not.

HIGHWAY TERRORIST.


Tourists Terrorise the local inhabitants with their inquiring minds, clicking cameras, noisy voices and swinging slingshot luggage. Tourism brings in the money. Travelling in search of a sunnier day. With traveller's cheques, credit cards, and cash. They pay for the privilege to see things from far away, that belong to everyone anyway. Guided tours, fences and signs lure them to the lookout, that overlooks themselves. And the untouched beauty rarely seen. But still we buy tickets to a destination on a three nights/ two days budget dream.

VAMPIRE OF WHAT?


Vampire. Blood, lust, desire. An evil adversary? A blood sucking friend? I wish to bring this torment to an end. Catch me as I fall. Caught in this heaven like hell. Spell bound in this tortured eternity. This never ending spell. Within me is the need to feed on creatures that live, breath and bleed. I hate to kill, but someone else, something more than myself controls my will. I can't help but admire the beauty of the dead. So quite, so still. How I wish I could die. Away from this self suffering, spread my bat like wings and fly. Never again can I enjoy the joy of sunshine. For I am set now to live in the night. A creature of terror and fright. The world of darkness is mine, all mine. Fearful of the daytime ball of fire. Vampire. Blood, lust, desire.

UNCONVEYED.


Now I can't think of anything to say, that does convey the way I feel right now. I am lost for words, somehow? Somehow I am speechless. Mute more or less. I go to open my mouth and nothing comes out. Has the cat, my tongue? Has the mischievous minstrel stole the song, I once sung? What is wrong? I guess I have said and did all that was meant to be said and done. Silence echoes the cry’s of the sun. Too many words told in lie wasted by every one. The many a speech that didn't teach, what we needed to know. But what we want here is all that they can sonicly show. Now I can't think of anything to say, that does convey the way I feel right now. Let the noiseless rule today.

A.W.


Just burn a light for the anger within you. Heaven knows what you might do. In another depressive stage. Throwing things in fits of rage. You tried to turn to a new page. But you have so much tension inside. No use trying to hide, the way you feel. Letting it out, is the best way to deal with it. But try doing that constructively, instead of taking it out on me. I didn't cause your agony. I'm doing my best to help you heal. Exercise your body and mind, instead of sitting here abusing me all the time. Find an interest, use those frustration to the best you can. Stop being a boy, be a man. Stop thinking you're the only one, who has this pain. I've had it, I've got it and I'll have it again. Get a life worth living. Stop taking all the attention and start giving some attention to yourself. Change the things you dislike about you. Look after your body's, your mind's, your soul's... health. Just burn a light for the anger within you. If you don't, you may regret all you ever do.

OF ALL THE WORDS.


Of all the words I've said. I love you, must be the hardest to say. Is it the thought of truth and commitment it does convey? Or is it that I rarely do? Love is hard to be sure of. I'm sure all but one time, it was lust. Even though I told myself it was the other. People of all shapes and sizes, ages and generations lie to themselves in different ways. I lie to myself to excuse what I do, that I shouldn't have done. Pretending to have fun. Even though my heart is blind to the beauty of everything and everyone. When I was younger, I did say, I love you a lot more freely. It was not a false statement, in that I loved something about everyone, even though I might of hated more things of that person, than I liked. But when I say it now, I mean `I love everything about you.' But I haven't yet again found that someone... who is the perfect companion for me. Maybe I will never again say I love you. Again, another year by myself. But I'm happy to be stuck in this self sufficient loneliness.

SHOULD I STOP THINKING?


Do I think too much? Asking questions that have no answers, due to them not being questions at all, but doubts. The more I ask, the more mixed up I become, nowhere for my sanity to run. I thought surf, catching one wave of thought after another. Drifting out to sea, further away from the solid, sure, certainties of reality. Well their reality anyway. A fusion of ideas, ideals and icons. Value! What has value? what is value? To me, everything has value, yet everything is valueless. Price of sanity? Inhumanity, war, starvation, suffering, pain. Start again! Pictures flash infront of my mind's eye. Like the T.V. news, I can't help but cry, for them, for us, for i. For I have become powerless due to my thinking. Due to my conclusion, collision, confusion, concussed conscience. While within me, my heart screams with hurt. Seeing for the first and last time, that all is recomposed, decomposed dirt. Do I think too much? I think, I think too much.

SOMEWHERE ELSE.


It's another one of those days, when I wish I was miles away. Not that, that would fix the problems I've got. Problems are my travel companions. Pack my bags along drags disaster. A fight with some locals at a pub, an argument the circus' ring master. A girl claiming my heart, her father wanting to tear me apart. May be I should become a hermit on some tropical island. But I would find the disadvantage of that life style fairly quickly. I was never meant to be happy or content, just struggling. Struggling on with whatever comes my way and tries to stop me in my tracks... But I will not turn back. I'll stay on this road until I reach... it's end. No use wishing I was somewhere else, cause every day I am.

TOO TIRED TO THINK.


I'm too tired to think, so I better not talk. I will only ramble on. As if I don't that already. My mind changes subjects, speeds and gears without warning. Often jumping a few steps along the way. Making little or no sense. Mutated mumble as a defence against the washed out words thrown at me. Time bomb statements that tick away inside my brain. Then bang I'm off in a explosion of words. Jabbering about everything form politics and weather, to love and war. Making a lot of noise but not saying anything at all. I'm too tired to think so I better not talk.

THE DARK VOICE.


"Why not end it all?" says the dark voice in my head. But I'm of no use when I'm dead. I'm not useless even though I often feel like it. I must have something that is uniquely me. Some little things that I can do, to change this dreary world. I haven't found my real reason. I can't do anything artistic or creative that I know of. But then again I write interesting letters and stories. Well that's what I'm told by most of my friends. May be I'll become a writer. I better screw up this good bye for good note. What a sick joke. Ha... to think that everything is worthless and that I should leave this place. When most of the time I have many things to make a smile to grow upon my face. A lot better than many others. I've got... lots of friends and my parents and my brothers. A green open paddock is where I graze. I promise myself from this day on, to make best use of my remaining days. It will not be the last time the dark voice tells me to give up. But I am determined to tell this voice to be silent. There is no future in being self destructive and self violent. I have found many a good reason not to end it all. Cause there is one day when the blackened curtain will fall. And the long cold winter will end. And we will again laugh and have fun in the warm summer sun.

DANCE BROLGA DANCE.


She waits for her chance to fly away. She sings a song that has been sung for thousands of years. Her wild call is music, to my industrial induced ears. She want to leave before the real rain does begin. She'll need to fly on before the Big Wet does set in. Her lover has not returned to their meeting place. Now tears wash her little dirty bird like face. She needs to move on, to find herself a new mate. Before her opportunity to love someone is gone. The clouds become dark and begin to corroborise. The waters fall like a curtain from the blackened skies. Through the storm the Brolga travels on her wings. All the way a combined song of love and a saddened heart, she does sing. She flies for many days then she reaches a place of fine weather. Wet and exhausted. She perches herself on a dead tree, spreads out to dry her feathers. Then makes a hollow her bed. She awakes feeling refreshed and re energised. The mid afternoon sun shines in her brolga blue eyes. She hears a sound familiar. The voice of her one, her first, her only. The Brolga calls him over, they capture their own ecstasy. The Brolga's Love apologises and explains why at their meeting place, he could not be. The Brolga doesn't really care. Cause now he is there, by her side again. Her lover and her friend. Dance Brolga dance.

ANCHOR MAN.


Can I be your Anchor Man? Hold you here if I can. Help you resist the tide. I will be by on your side, what ever weather blows up. Cyclone in a coffee cup. Grip the sand with my hands to stop the under current, washing you out to sea. If you want something stable, you will find an anchor in me. Chains on my feet as I drive in deep. I catch on to the nearest rock, together against any torrent we will be a match. When in one place you wish your ship to stand. I will be your Anchor Man.

THE HEART THAT LOVES YOU.


Will you brake the heart that loves you? Calling down the stars and sky upon you. Why do, such a foolish thing to do? You have all you need at your very door. Why are you leaving him for? Is it for me? I can't fulfil your childish fantasies. I might be young, different and new. But in time, I will become boring too. I will only take from your treasures, steal from your pleasures. Make you feel lost, miserable and blue. You are dreaming an impossible dream. You are asking for something that never... can be or ever could have been. If things were different I would be glad that we met. But I know that our crossing paths has confused you and made you upset. The best thing for us both, is to turn away and forget. He will be waiting for you at home, believing whatever lies you tell. While inside, the guilt will be giving you hell. It might not bother me if your husband wasn't my friend. Maybe then I would have no pride to defend. So go back to him and love him like you once did. Stop being so indecisive. No other can love you like he does. Remember how his name gave you a buzz. I think you will be happy if just learn to feel that way again. But if you do leave him, think of this before, that letter to him you send. Are you willing to brake the heart that loves you?

WHO CONCURRED WHO?


I ain't going to leave this land, before I have my conquest. Until I win you over, I will not rest. You are like a mountainous land, full of fruit and grain. Waiting to be harvested. A well watered hidden paradise garden. An Aztec temple of love. Colosseum of kind caresses. A pyramid of peace, tranquillity and beauty. A great wall of strength. Towers of safety and security. Shores of sensual pleasure. A country of priceless treasures, beyond measure. But then I think, the conquest has already happened. You have concurred my heart. I never would have admitted any of these feelings, before you. OK you win. Let the victory celebrations begin.

A CLEARER SKY.


I don't know why, I can't fly to a clearer sky. I don't know where, are the things for which I care. I don't know how... I got to here and now. I don't know when, everything will change again. I don't know who, is to replace you. Lately I've been lost. All the wires have got crossed. I've not been the same since... you changed the rules to love's game. I'm just not myself since, you put me back up on the shelf... like a little tin man. To please you, I've done all I can. I'm caught up in bad weather lately, since you said you no longer love me. In your hands you hold, my heart and my wings. You control everything, that's why I can't fly to a clearer sky.

P.L.H.


You hauled me up, from the bottom of the love wreck sea. Opened up my shell, took out my pearl like heart. Then back I sunk deeper into self pity, than I was at start. Give me back my pearl like heart. You keep it in a little silk bag around your neck. I am just another treasure, you did collect. You don't care what happens to this empty clam. You don't care if I'm now only part of the man, I once was. As long as you can still live out your love pirate cause. Give me back my pearl like heart and my coloured shell. Give to me and all will be well.

WRONG LINE.


I must have the wrong line, cause I keep getting opposite messages at the same time. What are my chances, I'm not sure. Is it likely, that I'll get what I'm waiting for? There's a sign or two, that you would like to, too. But then your words say that your heart is... too hurt and blue. And when you are ready it has to be "TRUE". But your eyes and your smiles say "Then again". I'm positive that this' not my imagination. Are we waiting for the perfect situation? I'm afraid it will never come. So why wait for a better day? Today could be the best one. Don't let your fears and insecurities and uncertainties stop you from having fun. Let us together greet the dawning sun. If there is a side of your heart that says yes. Follow it, it will for the best. If you are sure that the answer is NO, don't lead me on, so. I'm easily confused. And I don't want to scare you away. So what is in soul, please say. Before your indecision sends me away. I can't stay here talking on the wrong line. Got more important things to do with my... time.


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