Heart Controller

If I’m not allowed to edit a piece Then I would never be able to speak Logical symbols with infinite formation Dissociating within a line and then Picked up like a flower one by one To create a deleted memory And if not for editing and a bit of Pause my assembled thoughts would Devour the sanity of many minds And produce something like this. Saturday, 13 th of June 2015

He hinted about a distant relative, As if I was the chief of a lost tribe, Where we were ten generations apart, And then he moved his chair closer. A form of English words came out Of his overly hydrated mouth and For the first few minutes I had to Adapt my ears to such an accent. Finally, something familiar he uttered: “In all honesty,” And for an hour of pure listening, Dazzled to the amount of information That actually sunk into my head, The gist of it was identity loss! Here, let me break it down for you: Forty minutes of total nonsense, And twenty minutes of weird and Disgusting sounds, and I believe It was, to him, a form of nonverbal cues, So, indeed, an hour of oral chaos: Identity loss in its purest form! Friday, 03 rd of April 2015

The silence flew like a huge phoenix Into the molten lava casting a dark Silhouette… or maybe not! It was still there, the silence, and I was Sitting waiting for someone to call my name. The chair was so huge that five morbidly fat Emperors can sit next to each other and I will still fit. No, actually, that wasn’t right! It was incredibly small that I kept trying to avoid the Cold metal edge, trying to stay on that comfy cushion, And then the secretary stood at the door of this Gigantically tiny room and before she said anything I stood up when suddenly she smirked like an Evil witch, and cried loudly: “Oh! She’s not in yet!” I went back to my little corner sighing as loud as – And there he stood, the doctor with a nice, Colourful dress, really smart! Wait! Scratch that out because he was as dull As a dead log on the bottom of a swamp That was filled with gruesome algae. Anyways, he called my name, or a form of it That I did distinguish,...

Arr Arr Arr in the dark black night, Swinging swords at the foe left and right, Boarding ships taking loot and their cannon, Sending gifts, fresh fruits, with a blasting wagon, Mwa-ha-haa and we found that map, Docked on the coast then we take a nap, Bells at dawn ring ring ring ring, Look for gold and hear us sing, Let us walk and take our axe, Pick those pearls and the chests on your backs, Hell erupted on the mount, Leaving the island gems to count, In our cabins smelling our gold, This is the story the witch foretold, She has a hair like that of a snake, Shelves of potions and a toxic cake, In the centre a giant pot, Eyes so big and a greenish snot, Mixed so well that you can smell, And that is one of many a spell. Arr Arr Arr in the ocean storm, Captain stands and starts to inform, Grabbing gear and fixing holes, Few do drown so blessed their souls, Ancient ruins under the sea, Holes in skulls you have to see, Skeletons ar...

Hey! Yeah, all of you’s waiting, The colours mixed, so listen, I’m about to tell what’s happening, Across the streets of Auburn. Over there! That car, see?! Yeah, the yellow one, Woah! What a cool M3! Should be heaps of fun! Back in line we keep sighing, This ballad: a time waste, For our energy keeps draining, Come on! Our lunch to taste. Two minutes left of the agony, “Next in line!” “Yay!” I’ll make a colourful symphony, Finished! I have to pay? Cash only? You gotta be kiddin’! EFTPOS next to that centre, Where? There! It’s not hidden! Walking and walking then I enter. So, you see, it’s near closing time, And all I have is a card, 7/11 cash-out with that chime, Returned to find a guard. “Mate, we’re definitely closed!” “Seriously! After all that?!” Stepped forward, muscles exposed, Went back to my flat. This story ends with a sweat, Job, at last, completed, Many colours I ‘ave met, All this is already t...

Being in love with poetry makes you challenge others, With, you know, words never heard before, Or even if they were, like diamonds and gold, They would be used in such a way to never be understood, And the funny thing is we wait and expect compliments, From those pompous illiterates who cannot read nor write, This story began when I once wrote a marvellous piece of writing, Along comes a young adult shutting me completely up, Then he says, "What a rubbish piece of writing!" (Excuse me! I spent seven weeks on that!) "By the way," and, oh my, I knew exactly what he was about to say, Changing the subject was easy, As you would always look for his, the wacky arrogant, favourites, And in this case jewellery, like diamonds and gold, Though, dissimilar to my diamonds and gold, I must say, I should have sticked to simple language, But, the thing is, what makes a poet a poet? Erudition, if you ask me. Tuesday, 2nd of March 2010

For my delicate petals to rise above this enormous pot, Reddish as they are, dryness will almost set them free, And for my body and neck to prolong the inevitable rot, Greenish as I am, this hell, a darkroom, is not a guarantee.