City Street

You lay beneath the feet of man,

The condescending  hierarchy.

Imposed as though inadequacy.

To be so boldly vilified, 

And publicised, 

In view of many stoney eyes.

Know not what brought you to this point,

There is no room for simple thought, 

And so I stand and condescend, 

I have no choice my Stoney friend. 

Visions seen before my time,

Too great for one within the hour.

I am but man. 


Guise. 

The Linguist 

His powers are the subtle kind, gifts of literary gold. Expressions splashed in ink across the old papyrus scrolls. 

Predetermined talent rushing through his veins, or skills with which he only gained how and when he trains. 

This superhero’s nemesis goes by writers block, the nasty and obtrusive villain who lives within the man. An everlasting battle for the right to share a mind, but battles are only temporary and fleeting all the time. 

A dedication to himself to fight for what is real, and break what is prescribed for all with letters sitting still. 

End goal unclear, but direction less so, our hero soldiers on, to find the answer to his own unfinished epic song. A sonet here, a theory there and words to fill a cabinet, he will not ever lock his gift, with this in stones, he’s set. 

Guise. 

Mother

Endless, unwavering love, 

Giver of life, 

Feeding from the spring of existence. 

Dreams made capable, 

Power beholding, 

Your grace and love a pillow on the dreary bed of days. 

Worthless words, 

Juxtaposed, 

Your deeds,  too great for words to know. 

My endless love, 

And gratitude, 

To you, sweet nurturer. 

Guise. 

To Share in Love 

To give yourself to someone else, 

Is a worthwhile pursuit for our own self. 

A sense of value we shall feel, 

In loving unconditionally. 

But selfish intents are not the limit, 

For what this can create in bit. 

Our actions affect those for whom we project, 

A love, or care, we hope will protect, 

These special beings from hard roads trekked. 

But love, oh love is less and more, 

Of what these thoughts do share. 

To give oneself to someone else,

Is all for one and one for all. 

To love and explore life’s treacherous paths,

In the company of our dearest,

Is a human experience, raw and true, 

A gift for us, just me and you. 

Guise. 

Waste No Fortune

The autumn warmth of an Aussie sun, 

On such a familiar date, 

Radiating piercing heat, 

It’s holidays down under, mate. 

A time of family and food to spare, 

Of gluttonous sugar overload, 

Unjust to those with plates so bare, 

Altruistic intentions untold. 

This visit is a short one as,

I must make haste and return, 

To time spent with those I love, 

Be grateful for the fortune I 

Am lucky to have been given. 

Guise. 

Youthful Exuberance 

There was a time in which I was, 

Young and dumb, in arrogance,

Believing that I did know more, 

Than what I had begun to earn. 

Ignorance did feed my ego, 

Enough to elevate myself, 

Above those whom I thought moronic, 

Not understanding of perspective. 

Regret, I have none of this time, 

For I am reminded of the journey, 

To this present state of mind, 

In which I do see I was wrong. 

Not wrong in matter of the fact, 

But in my selfish imposition, 

To discount all because of bias, 

Youthful exuberance tried and tested. 

And as the years, nay days go by, 

I learn and grow and change my mind, 

Trying to steer from my opinion, 

Towards an open, flexible cognition. 

So some day as I count my blessings, 

I hope that I can sit and say, 

That I was wise enough to listen, 

Not just to stand and speak my way. 

Day Dreaming

Gazing out upon a setting summer sky, 

Shades of gold uncherished by the human eye;

Streaking clouds in lines, 

Washed upon the abyss like the sea’s shore. 


A fascination from early teens,

An inspiration,

A creative means;

I’ve lived a life gazing upon heavens floor. 

Memories shared with those dear,

Imagining life in pillows imperfect. 

A face, a shape, a song and story,

Meaning undefined, in simple glory. 


Even though the shades of gold, the pillows billowing and stories untold;

Despite the fact that science holds,

A meaning for this sight is known,

The clouds and sky remain in mind,

A sight and song, dearly I hold.