I
Can You feel the waves crashing
On the coast, the sea breeze in Your hair?
My town clings to the coast -
Growing from the sea
Built from the sea
Where the ships landed so long ago.
The North coast
More at ease
People feel better
Life is percieved, greener.
It is a breeze,
But it's just the weather
My water -
My weather -
My coast -
My box -
Is My home.
An insignificant world far from cramped civilisation
(far from metropolitan), far from the head of State.
- far from the city
- the coat-hanger
- and the house of Opera
Let Me show You, friend, My box
Can You see its flowing river?
The life-blood of the valley - the wide artery
Inverted
It grows from My mountain in the West. It runs beneath
My Bridge, it empties into
My sea.
Can You see the sun setting?
It revels behind My mountain as though
A flame waited beyond the horizon.
Streaks of colour reach above the peak, desperately (secretly)
Coveting the stars, like I covet You; dear friend, dear listener.
Come with Me, sit atop My bridge with Me.
Here we can view the lights.
A cloudless nightscape
As the darkness overcomes the receding sun,
You can watch the town slowly switch on.
At first a few, then many, many more.
As the dark encircles the small town, that which is mine,
It mostly looks silent -
The landscape lying before us
Is that of a night sky.
No matter how You try - You cannot count
The house lights...
Look there, to Your left, how bright!
Those, yes, large light bright in this night
Of stillness.
Active; Alive; Awake
A night-life that thrives on tennis lights -
My city-suburb (in the country)
- sport lights
- card nights
- and the local R.S.L
Compares not to Greater Sydney
A city-suburb
- the nightclub
- the disco
- the superfluous range
drowns even My bright tennis court
with a light comparable only to the rising sun
Sydneysiders, how much fun.
Still My town is awake
My box sleeps not - yet.
Stay longer, linger, later You will notice
Something, anything, one thing.
Can You feel the vehicles rolling by?
The rumbling of framework beneath
Flickers of light, flickers of life
Stretches on the long black road ahead,
Lighting ourselves to each other
Revealing Your smile, My solace.
Cars pass cars as we pass time;
High beam, low, high; undulating lives.
Cars come less and less, petering out
Like we travelled a stream to its end,
But where, where cars leave
The larger, multi-axled monsters replace.
The trains of the road and the trains of the track
This path lead all to the city -
Leads Me from the silence
Leads Me from My box
And brings You (within My box)
Within My reach
Within My grasp (embrace) (box).
Within all that is familiar (to Me).
Now here we are
You and I
- in Your city
- in Your apartment
- in Your room
- within that which is unfamiliar (to Me)
- that which is not mine
From My box, from all familiar, from safety;
You lured Me on that to Your city.
How You talked - exclaimed even -
- of the fun we would share
- a busier life (more fulfilled?)
- more people (less friends?)
- less thinking and more doing
and...and I would be closer
- to You
- to school
- to a career
- (to death?)
The lights are low, it is bright outside
Yet You know the shadown brings Me comfort.
Here in Your room above
The streetlights of Newtown
You have gathered candles
Reminiscent of My town.
The small lights,
Witin the large lights,
The town of My mind
Within Your city
A unique moment - magical
That We share, You and I here
Where our minds meet with no words.
And here the candles are drowned by the light
Flooding from the window.
Outside, another world -
The city
Now it is You showing Me -
Your city
Though first, before revelation, before I see anything;
I have to show You something - or rather,
You wish Me to explain
To elaborate.
You ask; a timeless question:
"What are You thinking?"
It then occurs to Me -
'I thought then, and think now, if even You surely,
wish to know, truly, what I think.'
And now the music that drifts along My voice
Accompanies us -You, My precious
And You My audience.
The words spoke, linger still.
There Your are
You lie, listening
You look tentatively into mine eyes.
Are You intrigues?
Captured by the words I speak
The rhyme, rhythm, that I seek,
In places I describe, in thoughts that are contrived?
A journey I took, on that path that leads
To Your city, in My mind waking seeds
Were planted firm, fixated, for there they thrived.
And I survived; breaking out, outgrowing My box.
Are You listening,
As I rattle on and on
About My days at home,
About My days at home,
Talking of a broken box,
Of a weary life left long ago
To sit in the recesses of poems?
And yet here I am,
To tell, to tell,
Of a box...
My box...
A box is that costruct of mind
That develops meaning
That develops boundaries
That develops restrictions
A meaning - of self
An identity
No need for schizophrenia
No bad dreams.
Eating well and no microwave dinners.
You are not Me and never wish to be,
You are comfortable with Yourself
Because of a box.
Boundaries - of the mind
A calm belief in what is real and what is not.
No need for paranoia.
No fear of monsters.
Getting on with real life and not travelling in circles.
A firm grip on reality, or what You precieve as reality.
A healthy existence,
Because of a box.
Restrictions - of consciousness
A self-imposed censorship to make Your life more
- (endurable)
- (bearable)
- (pleasant)
No need for neurosis (psychosis).
No unsightly confrontations.
Content with society; concerned (but powerless)
Pragmatism not idealism
Uniques: just like everyone else,
Because of a box.
Comfortable.
I want You to listen
I want You to feel
I want You to think
Dear listener
Are You comfortable?
To sit next to me; in this poem.
Do You drive to school each day,
Or is there a bus?
Perhaps You walk or ride, but
Are You comfortable?
Do You see comfort in Your life,
Within Your box -
What do You fear?
Do You fear people?
You do; in Your box; filter people -
The lock on Your door.
Where do You live,
Somewhere safe, somehwere comfortable.
Are You comfortable with people?
Are You comfortable with Yourself?
Are You alone?
So many people You don't
Acknowledge, denied by Your box.
Make You feel safe, doesn't it?
You feel more important with less people
Concerned - no tears for the unkown.
Will You Remember?
Will You Remember?
Have I already become
A listless face
Among faces?
A listless poem
Among poems?
But You would rather be attached
To a cat; four billion a year
To Western cats, when Your coloured cousins starve.
Does a dependant cat make You feel
Less alone?
You downsize the world in Your
Box, leaving out unpleasantries that don't quite fit.
Recreate Your box - to be - to be more
More inclusive.
Learn from life, grown in life,
Acceptance.
Listen!
Listen to the mother earth cry.
Feel!
Feel for the thousands that die.
Think!
Think of a world not in opposites
Think of people and their rights.
Listen!
Listen to the choke of the last river.
Feel!
Feel for the homeless that shiver.
Think!
Think of Yourself as part of a whole
Think of others, their heart, their mind, their soul.
