These are drafts that have been sitting on here over the last two months, and won’t be getting finished. Maybe you can see something in these I no longer can. So being only partial and almost completes, the moods shifted while writing, they came to grinding to a halt.

Four AM the place is dark, while the rain it kept on falling down, Didn’t notice the sounds, but with my hair all wet, time came by in a rush across many miles, Just white lines in the blackness, stretching on and on, Till we made the Bellhouse hills, where the ground it was all ripped n’torned, Heavy mud, with the thickest clay, covered from head to toe, But it didn’t really mater, while the rain it kept on coming down, so we sang some tunes, as we laughed a while, till all our sides, they hurt, All here is just some kind of luck, but did you hear about the end of the world. The final day for many others…

No place of distance

Youth cornered, by two,
Delivered to be,
Disowned, abandoned, but still present,
Smiles, laughter fade, devastation invades,
What’s to understand, what’s to follow,
In short, one is on your own,
Stops listening, conversations fade,
Trust no one, believe only one,
For blood, one might only of been an orphan,
Left with nothing, but a few clothes,
For this, a fall, responsible, six and eighteen months,
Silence only, then departure, no intention to return,
To what has a past, passed, and not to ask, nor did,
For to roam in the wild and wide, heavy in burden,
With solace in the lands of no place of distance..

Running long sections

It had been a month out on the gulf savannah,
Running a single long section from first light,
Till the blue sky faded into a darkness like no other,
Between a world of creeks, rivers, and gorges,

Where one wakes to the conversation of Black Cockatoos,
With Wedge-tail Eagles high above the pale grass of the dry season,
Some places, we crossed wash outs from the big wets,
Most meters deep, with steep sides

Waiting

Waiting here in the airport,
because the weather turned sour.
So I prop my swag up against the wall,
as I lean back on it, then I heard the news,

His life was taken in a bullshit way,
This man and activist of Guatemalan radio,
All for greed to flood the valleys that flow,
All for the destruction of his people’s world.

Can someone tell me why our world’s so dark,
do you have any answer to what happens next.
Why the torture, maiming, and all the bloodshed,
Do we really need a dead Earth, where all that’s left is us.

His life was taken in a bullshit way,
This man and activist of Guatemalan radio,
All for greed to clear-fell his people’s forests,
All for the destruction of his people’s world.

How can we rape the globe for all the money it’s worth,
do we ever count the cost, is money truly worth this much.
Destruction is a backwards step in our world gone mad,
Why’ve not we listened to the indigenous peoples’ calm words.

His life was taken in a bullshit way,
This man and activist of Guatemalan radio,
All for greed to gouge holes in the people’s lands,
All for the destruction of his people’s world.

Why don’t we listen, why don’t we finally make a stand,
Why don’t we stop this chaos and carnage infecting all lands.

Four corners

It was a time, just the other day,
When someone said, you don’t know much,
Why don’t you go find the four corners,
Then you may have something to say,

What you ponder ill at heart, is lost,
Lost like you, beneath the five pillars,
Where the creeping mist shrouds the mountains,
In an emptiness, which denies your name.