You have no right to ask how I am
And no right to an answer
No right even to the thought occuring
Or the breath that bore it
That breathed our moment
In vengeful violence
Spitting and seething spite
In dark deluded condemnation
Of everything you claimed once right.
You have no right to the friendship
That you beat up
And threatened death to the life that bore it
But unabashed and unforgiven
You assume it
Say you don’t need forgiving
He was due it
You’re the master and there’s no chance
He could ever do it.
You have no right to claim regret
No right to say you are sorry
When to every other face is a different story
Where malice remains the prince amonst principalities
And you justify revenge with vivid stories
With you as the chosen one
With you enlightened and not undone.
You have no right to claim to see the truth
Or to be it’s living example
To uphold yourself as one of the few
Yet in the face of everything
This is what you do.
To god and yourself you must justify
Delusion that you can’t deny
Only you can answer why
Only then you cannot lie.
The poem is about my turmoil of thoughts and doubts, between my recently departed wife, and my starting up of a new relationship.
What motivated you to write this poem?
Lots of bad dreams and guilt.
How long have you been writing poetry?
I’ve been writing poetry for twenty-two years, although I’ve only been going public with my writings for the last eight years.
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
I’d love to have dinner with Leonard Cohen.
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
The curiousity factor of listening to my words being articulated by some-one else, and to have my poem heard by the large audience of Poetry Festival’s readers.
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
Basically I only write poems, however I have written a few short stories.
What is your passion in life?
I’m an Australian, and my main passion is to travel to Canada and America, and visit family/relatives
I’ve decided to stop reading the news
It’s full of contradiction and misinterpreted views,
Bending of truths like a novelists muse
Inciting inspiration, stimulation, radicalisation but never the truth of the situation
Just a public announcement of the wrong account, a miscommunication or fake revelation
Is it an attempt at entertainment?
Lacking empathy, a cold report with no sympathy
Of death, disaster and misery
Attacking humanity
As they relish at the world flying in to abyss
I can’t be alone, wishing we would all hug and kiss
So, instead I’ve turned to poetry, where theres no need to encourage, provoke or lie
For words of poem can reach the sky, you cant deny
My interpretation is all I need to see
Where thoughts can wander, minds can ponder
I never need to wonder, if what’s written is fact or fiction
As a poet spilling his heart on paper, writing fast, creating friction
He goes to war with every etching
Of love and emotion of pain of gain
It’s truer than the mirror in which you see your face
It reads like silk and flows like lace
Spilling over with generosity, leaving a genuine taste
Whether of love or hate, faith or sin
It’s come from within where only truth can win
Birds from the east
Each one a hankery miniature beast
Friends I made by the fields
Everyday I toil until I sweat
But not the feathered chaps of the sky
They are birds from the east
All they do is fly
If not lie in their nests
Waiting patiently by the east coast
Praying for my head to turn west
Look at those black eyes
Getting darker with hanker
Birds from the east
Preying on my crops
All chattering in cabal
They eat their hearts out
Will I turn?
Will I alter my bearing?
What good will it bring
Leaving my paragon for the beast?
I will just wait until the sun set
They are birds from the east
They sleep by the night