Momentary ideals

Title: Heated ideas

I find myself constantly dehydrated from thinking.

Fuel for my thoughts and dreams.

Sadness, low self esteem?

Might just need a glass of water.

I drink so much to float my thoughts.


Title: I want those same feelings on repeat.

It may be wrong. It may not be right. I hate the feelings I am feeling tonight. It is like I have a hit some angry brick wall. Maybe all that study is making me frustrated. Like when I leave the house I just want to get back into my angry room and sit there in doubt staring at the wall wishing it would paint itself.


Title: So do I just keep pushing through on this?

I feel lost as though I have so much to do and all I am doing is standing still not even recognising the people around me. I write, paint and think as though I am possessed, unable to slow down. I am thinking at such an extreme pace, and I do not even know. For what reason? What did I want to achieve? Am I living out my dreams, or are these the nightmares of a crazy person. My face hurts and I want to close my eyes, but for reasons I cannot work out.

I am still here thinking hard, poring my dreams out onto the wall hoping something will stick. But not tonight, everything is sliding to the floor. But all those things that have not stuck are starting to pile up. And this gives me confidence, maybe I don’t even need the wall, I will build my own.

Thoughts on a Thursday night…

Title: night walk

I can feel my legs, each part bending feeling the weight of my body on it, stabilising the body making me stand up straight. I am amazed at how many processes are involved in a simple step. We have no wasted limbs to spare, down to the bare minimum. I want my thighs to grow…

I step outside, it is cold and in many ways I do not want to be here. But here I am. I have left my apartment this evening as after two days in doors I am thinking that it would be healthy to be outside for a moment or two. To clear my head, breathing in some fresh air through my nostrils and feel connected with the earth. To be going at the same pace as the world round me…

I feel tired and energized. But I keep walking I don’t know what reason I do so, maybe to tire myself out. But maybe because I feel as though I am not done with the day, that the day should wait until I am done with it. So I keep walking well into the evening, watching the sun dip below the city and the shadows grow long…

Now I break into a sprint, I feel the wind rushing against my hair. I love the pace. I look left and right briefly before making my way across roads, I feel so alive. My heartbeat, blood flow racing, sweat on my neck. And I keep pushing on as though I am running from something or someone…

Native land

After a discussion at a lovely park today got me thinking and pondering further about ‘Aboriginals in Australia and the social discord’. These are purely my thoughts. Not based on any facts or and with no expertise in the field. Also not here to offend, this is a tricky issue. I am just pondering out loud. feel free to comment below. Enjoy! 🙂


when I hear ‘why don’t they fit in yet’. It makes me think, how much about Native Australian foods, language, laws, systems and culture to I know? and my answer is always not much. So it then becomes apparent how much native Australians have integrated into white culture compared to me into there culture. I feel I have a lot to learn.

Out of context

Lifestyles, keeping tradition, this is a simple way of living native Australians have lived for 2,000 year I think?If I remember my high school history book correctly. But a very long time and it worked.

But take tradition and lifestyle out of context, and simple living in busy cities can be seen as lazy, not contributing to society. bludgers.

Understanding that that tradition should not be compared to white culture for me is a big step in understanding the healthy differences.



Thank you for reading, have a nice day! 


Here are a few poems that I have written during September and October 2015. I tried to group together a few that had the same feel and vibe to them. Enjoy!

Title: sway

Music plays in the background, calm words can be heard somewhere of into the distance. But it’s you that I am focused on. As you sway in the warm evening breeze.

I look you over, those clothes in earthy green, red and brown colours. One with nature. You make me want to know all the names of every plant in the garden. Inspire me to learn more about the world around us. It’s what I love about you…

Title: Garden Stairs

I leave my apartment, down the steps. I feel calm, and together. The sun on my glasses. I notice you to the left. Under an overhanging tree, enjoying a picnic by yourself. It’s these moments of you I don’t want to disturb.

Title: Ever Green

Your leaves, so full, and green,

I can’t imagine them as anything else,

your branches and curves, swaying in the breeze,

you welcome the sun, and enjoy it with me,

as I sit in your lap, a day to read,

look over my shoulder, I’ll share it with you,

ever green, here with me.

Title: trance

I walk through the crowd, intense music playing like a fog. Flashing lights moving bodies, as I move on closer to you. My vision of you going from a haze to complete blackness, then back to a haze. I am entranced in you.

You are covered in streaks of fluorescent body paint. As am I. Your hair, skin and clothes all dusted in that burn red sand, skin Sunkist, eyes alive. All signs of being out in the desert to long.

title: Chlorine

Today I went for my morning swim. It was such a sunny day. Rode my bike through the backstreets to get there. Feeling the breeze.

Changing rooms, smell of bodies. I take my shirt of, shorts and jocks. Then put on my bathers.

I walk to the edge of the pool dive in. Lap after lap. Thankfully the pool is heated. After some time I notice a girl in the next lane looking at me, her head above water, our eyes meeting as we swim past each other from opposite ends of the pool.

Blonde, white skin, tanned and fit. I think about her thighs.

My swim has finished, I can swim no more. I push myself up onto the ledge with my hands, water dripping from my body. She stops and stands in the next lane. Blue flowery bikini. That body. I know she wants me to talk to her.

That is all at the moment. Thanks for reading!

long shadows in the summer

Title: Something for nothing

Today I unpacked my first solar panel. In Australia we have hot summers, with the heat sometimes almost unbearable. But for me I see this as an opportunity to get of the grid. My bedroom window gets the morning sun. Full and heavy. I angled the panel in the direction of the morning sun that comes up big strong and bright. I hooked it up to a battery to store the energy collected. And plugged in my fan and laptop.  About 6am in the morning I felt the gental brease of my fan wash over me, and saw the light on my laptop on, signalling that it had began to charge. It is amazing how this works. And that it will collect power from the sun up to 20 years. There is a good chance it will out last the devices I am charging. 

Title: Can’t be cool for long

I find it hard to sit there and fit in with the party crowd. It’s just not me. I don’t enjoy things that are not engaging. I don’t do drugs, so find it hard to chill to trance music for more than 3 hours.

Title: wanting more
Seeing clearly, kicking it aganst the pricks,
The future is now, but how?
Of the grid, knowledge is power,

Title: If I were a menu item, what would I be?

If I was a menu item I would be an entrée of Nepalese Momos.

I like to think of food as a stage production the warm up act (entrée), followed by the ‘Main’ show.

As Entrée I am the first act for this lovely evening.

Though I’m not just a ‘warm’ up act, I’m better fried.

I was born for this role tonight,

From your very first bite, I am simply a delight.

Giggle at my name, I am here to put other dumplings to shame,

I am Cleaver, simple I’d agree,

Mince chicken, red onion, coriander,

but tasteless? I say Never!

Like any good host I make sure to greet all my seated guest before the main act

See me dance from table to table as I am offered around the room.

Finally I make my way to yours,

Smelling green chilli, ginger, garlic

good service is no fable,

“Call  me Momo, I say” I’ll be your Entrée for this evening. “Momo is my name, and flavour is my game.”

Is that an accent you hear. I say “ah what a keen ear.”

“I was born in the back room over there, but I have a rich history elsewhere,

with turmeric, cumin spilling flavours  of the  south east Asian mountains,

ideas all the way from Nepal,.”

Admiring me now stuffed in a neat  wonton jacket ,

Filled to delight, at the start of your night,

Good on my own better with a sauce, but you know that of course.

Why do I want to be an entrée you say?

The first on stage, the fresh crowd, heighten the excitement, set the mood for the night.

After me you know you are in for a good evening.

I am class, an art piece each part of me shaped to be admired

I have a few jokes up my sleeve; don’t be alarmed, I’m 100% good taste,

An so I take my bow with your final bite,

too you and your company, I bid you a good night.

a taste just enough to have the wanting more.

Who knows this humble entrée might make an encore.

Thoughts on a Friday afternoon

Title: not worth it

I hope everything of yours is gone. You gross me out. I feel bad that I let you into my life, but now I have stripped back everything you touched and thrown it in to be washed. Including myself. Scrubbing away, until I do not feel your presents again.

Title: Reading nook

I am proud of my books, all lined up neatly along my window nook. Books from my travels, books I have reread, books on my list to read. But now with technology, my books are becoming obsolete. Ebooks are easy and I can always take it with me. I will cherish my time I had spent with my books, and will continue to read them and more. The future is now.

Title: 1969

I am transported back to a time where things seemed a bit more free and easily.

The thriving see life of the tropics. In all its beauty be cast of as cheap in the right light.

I sit back at a friends place and complain about how the world has passed me by, drongos following me around, making my wallet run dry.

I am tired trying to look collected in my shades.

I want to be free follow the coastline, feel the waves beneath my dingy.

The sand so calm, the stepping back onto land after a long boat ride.

I feel alive. Life is simple away from the masses.

There is no one around to help, but also no one around to hinder.

A little girl below the jetty, pretty and blonde, I wonder what her name is I wonder what she is doing down there.

In time I think things will reveal themselves.

But for now I need some time on my own, in a room of ones own.

This place is a mess, I need to clean it out before I undress.

My dog sniffs out trouble, but I am thinking elsewhere.

The sea so blue in the background, makes me feel small.

This is not a bad thing I must understand, it is there to help me deal with my thoughts, turn my big head into something small.

Title: done with purpose.

Easier to write than to do.

For in my thoughts I can make anything happen.

I can make the sky turn blue, bring me to you.

I can make my homework done in a flash, And my past and future rewrite itself.

But I do not feel the accomplishment I would feel if I had done it for real,

Maybe I am just not imagining hard enough.

Title: The back of my mind

Trapped in my mind. I wanted to see what was inside, really dig deep and see what I hide. But now that I am here the door has closed the water filling in. I am washed away into a part that I am not familiar with. I know it is me, but now I begin to wonder. So deep in my thoughts I have travelled. Now trying to find my way out. Colours rich and glowing, blues and greens, thick jungle surronds me, I have not been this far before, and I am beginning to scare myself. These thoughts are so primal, so exotic, so forgine to me. But here they are they must be mine. I am told we only use 10% of our brain, I feel as though I have travelled deeper than that, thick sludge around my feel. In my mind, somehow I am not alone.

After 10pm

Title: Up late at the hippie convent.

I like this place, they have good food, an alacrt menu. And yeah everyone is volunteers, it sounds amazing, I do like that I can find a seat easily. I want to chat about it but at the same time, I don’t like sharing to much as I think it will get ruined maybe… maybe not. Which would be a good thing as it is so easy for my friends and I to get to.

Afrter diner, we sat down on the slopping grass, listened to sheep baa, and watched as hundreds of bats flew over. There were people playing hand drums that have a nice watery sound that I heard a lot in india and other intereremets with one dude dancing to a different beat in his head. I hippie wearing a seahorse around his neck came by and sat down near us. We all chatted for a bit, then he brought up the subject of  drugs.

For me, I am okay with other people taking acid, shrooms, extacy and smoking weed. But none of that is for me, I have even stopped drinking recently, I don’t know. Drugs don’t take me to where I want to be, they take me to somewhere sad where I can’t find my way out until it is over. I am a happy idervidual, and drugs do not boost my experience. Even alcohol which I enjoyed on long afternoons chilling with friends, does not have that same effect on me anymore. Maybe I am getting older? Maybe the last parts of my mind are trying feebly to stay sane. Either way, I am okay with the recreational drug culture with social drug use. But it is my choice to say no, every time.

Title: Tears to fall from dry eyes.

We went our separate ways, me ignoring you, you not texting.

But tonight you had to message me, and I did not like it,

I am not ignoring you because I want to be mean, it is every time we hang you get weird,

You are a downer to everything positive I suggest doing, you send me nasty message if I don’t reply when I am at work or school, I am busy sometimes, and you did not understand.

We had very little in common besides sex, Sex is great don’t get me wrong, but if I don’t like you as a person, it is hard to get wet.

And so tonight I will not reply to your text, I will not feel sorry or bad,

My eyes are dry, as tears for you I have never had.