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
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.
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.
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
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 https://www.facebook.com/Ben-Quilty-290611141314/
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.
Graceful grass stalks
Pale pink moonrise
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.
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.
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.