Lost
I’m already lost In Sydney Although we haven’t arrived
Lost is a placeA facial expression Mothers recognise
It looks for sympathySometimes help But finds 'direction'
— Ben-Peter Terpstra
Waiting for Spring The lights don't work but I know I am still reflected in my mirror soon the sun will come and help to prove me right It's getting cold and I am worried about getting through the winter burning candles in my room to cut the chill But I can just see myself in spring dressed up like a past-due notice pale yellow... or collection agency green and I can just hear my brother laughing when we can afford to go have dinner There will always, always be a spring Wherever the sun has gone I will always be me
— Raina Morreau
God owes me Royalties
Do my words need makeupanti-age cream for my linesRemixing and deejayingmultiple images of a singular deityReincarnated of carnalitycindered in obdurate moralityPulsing throbbing the ghosts rearrangingSkeletons like legopomegranate love-buds juicing stainsNot guilt but smudged badges of honourmy soul copyrighted for first-use and the royalties will pay the debt I accrued on your behalf.
— Vinay Verma
Niche
How I’d like to find my nicheEven if it is just a clichéI really want to find my nicheAnd have my own nice little placeInviting my friends to take their placeAt my tableI now feel as stable as the tableAs solid as the doorAs open as the windowAs warm as the bedTotally at easeWith a brand new lease not only On my place but on life As I am transformed in my ownLittle world
-Isabella Fels
Folding & Flying
A folded piece of paper floatsMy every thought swims towards youAgainst the current of netbanking and lunchtimeAnd essays to write This life, some kind of unvarnished documentOn which to carve our longingA piece of paperWhich we fold, at our leisureInto a plane; we jump inAnd take off into some other dimensionThoughts fold and paperFlies
— Cecilia Condon
Judas and Jezebel
Did you hear the news today?Judas married Jezebel;It was not announced with trumpet callsor eardrum-rupturing decibels.
Did you see her walk the aislewith luminescent eyes?Are they the eyes of piercing truth?or demons in disguise?
Did you know I loved her once?But her heart I could not tame,'Depart from me, I know you not,' she callously exclaimed.
— Damian Balassone
Donne captains a ship of fools
Let me not nit my net too fineThus trap small fish or venal sinNeither cast it in to