Today I took a wandering

Through skyscrapers most tall

And found life in the alleys.

There were the worker ants

Bustling off to work.

Bus and lorry drivers

Honking at their passing

There were the pedestrians

Heading home

Hot coffees encased in foam

Exercisers side stepped slower going folk

School children escorting

Younger siblings for the school day

Families with prams and dogs

Entered into the fray.

All of this seems chaos

But they all knew what to do.

It was the group of homeless

That tore my heart in two.


Do not blame your kids

Some parents should be shot.

I know that’s rather blunt

But if you don’t want your kids

Use contraceptives or just don’t.

I know mistakes are made

I know things aren’t always planned

But do not blame your kids

When things years ago got out of hand.


A deep sadness settles

About the hopelessness I feel

Unable to fight the fight

Unable to speak the words

Unable to change an outcome

Unable just unable


I have not the skills nor knowhow

To change how others think

I cannot force a parent

To recognise their child

Is resting at a precipice

And trying to decide


Will stepping off the edge

Make her happy inside.


Summer prepping

I’m fortunate where I live

That winter is not too cold

For about this time every year

It’s a swimming I will go.

I have to get back in shape

And swim some decent ks

Kilometer after kilometer

In winter’s cool embrace.

For come the coldest month of spring

I have to prove my worth

And demonstrate to them above

That I am capable in a rush

To burst through those towering waves

And swim hard to those foolish folk

That swim outside the flags.

Blobs of paint

Blobs of paint

Smeared on canvas

Swirled around with palette knife

A swish here

A flourish there

Another dollop of paint

Wack another canvas on top

Pull it off

Art is done.

©KJ Eastwick July 2019

Inspired by the work of the Australian Artist Ben Quilty who seems to quite enjoy creating mirror image artworks that turn out to look like landscapes. Despite my flippancy of words I quite enjoy these landscapes and am in awe of how you can get something of a landscape out of the randomness that seems to exist in his work. To learn more about Ben Quilty go to

Scruffy Pizza

One exhausting Friday night

We succumbed to take out.

And as we waited our turn in line

The fish shop was invaded.

A father with three under four

Was valiantly entertaining and educating

His young mob.

He’d mastered the art of distraction

Taught numeracy and language

Complete with one child on his hip and one child on each hand.

Another family did arrive

This time Grandpa and two tikes

These youngsters entertained themselves with spending Grandpa’s cash.

A mother taught her daughter how

To pop those plastic straws.

And another turned up with two children and a pup

All of whom were under 5.

The dog obviously did not go in

To collect the dinner prize

That was left up to the under fives.

They problem solved their hearts out

As to how to carry their load

Until the mother could rescue it

Complete with dog in tow

And as they walked off to their home

Both children could see

The mother struggling with the dog and balancing their tea

“Can I walk Scruffy Pizza Mum,”

Pipes up the child of three.



Warm pavement
Cold shadows
Hot sun

Cool breezes
Crisp skies
Bright light

Clustered flowers
Graceful grass stalks

Gorgeous sunsets
Pale pink moonrise
Soft dawn

Chirping birds
Silent insects
Leaping Lizards

Camels, cows
Horses too
Dingos, rats
And mice
Desert animals
Desert deaths

Harsh hot
Cold frosts
Dry Dry

The Carolina Reaper

Sometimes a day of teaching

Is heart wrenching or worse

And sometimes the job of teaching

Really has it’s perks


A group of lads and lasses, and everyone inbetween

Decided on a challenge

Eating chillies so it seemed.

They did not decide on Jalapeno

Nor the hot Ghost pepper,

No for this little prank – nothing but the best

The Carolina Reaper.


2.2 million units of hotness

Tends to do some damage

Red lips and lots of spitting out

But that is not the funny.




Unfortunately these kids were completely unaware

Of the dangers of hand to surface transferance

And after spitting and scrapping out the chilli

Did not venture near

A tap – no hand washing yet occured.

And here the story goes down or up depending on your view point

For some unknown reason

Perhaps another bet

The boys suffered a case of chilli transferance
On discovering the problem

A fellow bright spark piped up

“Milk is good with chillis, takes away the heat”

Thus the group of teens

Showed some what clever initative

And aquired some unsuspecting bottles

Of chocolate flavoured milk.


The teacher of playground duty

Had a smile wider than a mile

And when they could finally speak

Described the scene inside.


Inside the disabled bathroom, that was out of bounds

A group of boys were summarily found

Soaking some anatomy in the flavoured milk


The Carolina Reaper

On male private parts it seems

Is not a challenge that anyone should redeem.


The messy mind

My mind is rather messy

Filled with thoughts of random facts

A couple dozen stories fight

To fit in my mind’s many gaps.

My work tries to consume me

And sometimes it will win

No other thoughts permitted

Work attempts to put them in the bin.

Other times my brain is clear

Despite the working hours

Work will not intrude

It simply makes my mind too dour.

Tears falling

The tears fall in brief gushes

Blurring my vision

Thoughts reluctantly surface

I don’t want to think.

The questions storm in fast-flowing eddies

I write instead of getting balancing sleep.

Why are my hormones playing up like a teenager’s

Why can I not hold onto a babe?

What has happened since the birth of my first child

That’s made me this terrible imbalanced such that I cannot carry a babe.

I got the new haircut

I got the new clothes

I got rid of the junk from my life

Isn’t all that meant to make you feel better

Isn’t all that the way to get the results you are after

According to the guru’s that is so.

Declutter your life,

Give yourself a change

Gamble a bit

Get happy again

Then things will fall

Into your happy place,

Good energy will start to flow.

Bullshit I say

What crap are you talking

I’ve done all that and here I am

At 4am on a summer’s morning

Tears falling in short bursts down a tired, wet face.