15 stops. 40 minutes. each day.

Tag: spoken word

Like you

Trying to find a good man to spend quality time with

and all i’m wondering is if he’ll slap my arse like you did.

Like you.

Something new, yet older and never anticpated.

crazy times call for crazy stories

and we all know that what goes on tour

stays there.

But not when you see it come through the door everyday.

you didn’t stay on tour, and neither did I.

We both came back home,

and now Monday to Friday I see you.

Cheeky smiles are painted across our faces


oh hell yeah.

we know.


no one said

No one told me that beauty would make me cry

or that disappointment might make me smile.

that love was full of hatred,

and hatred can be fuelled by love.

That a smile makes the world go around,

but so does fear, and anger, and isolation.

That words, words spoken with a breaking heart

and a tear in the eye can be more beautiful

than the worlds most lauded sonnet.

No one said that beauty could pick you up,

smack you in the chest,

and drop you back on the floor.

Beauty is not skin deep.

Nothing is skin deep in a world of energy and thought and ideas and creativity.

Men have told me for years that I am beautiful. But as much as these words are appreciated by the ears,

most of the time, they speak only of what genetics have passed to me.

They speak not of the heart that resides within me,

that drips with the all-encompassing love and hate for this world.

Goosebumps prickle my skin, sliding up my back

and across my shoulders to embrace my heart as it struggles with how much beauty there is in this world.

You are part of all that is what is beautiful

and all that is beautiful is you xx

I feel

That sometimes I want to write

even when I don’t have words to type

That sometimes I want to scream

even though it’s only a dream

That sometimes I want to run

even though it’s me who’s holding the gun

That sometimes I want to cry

for those who now know what it’s like to die

That sometimes I want to be patient

even though the delay makes me feel ancient

That sometimes, I want some times

just to feel.

bus stop

So..we have a problem.

I don’t get the bus to work any more.

I was thinking, it kinda makes the name/ethos of this blog


I drive now – a rise in my pay packet

and that I have a car means

I drive over the Harbour bridge every day.

Tunes blaring, foot to the peddle,

left foot just on the edge of the clutch,

ready to push it in, hold-hold- as I go around the corner,

quick check, look see

nothing coming

bang, slam it into 3rd, and push it around 

in the outside lane

around that gorgeous hairpin on to the bridge.

But I digress,





Creatives, huh?

Who’d be one??

I would.

And so my bus stops.

But i never will



I’ve always been good at identifying songs from the first few bars

My folks noticed it when I was young, and it’s just one of those *things*

Seems though, as I get older, I don’t only just recognise the song

but the emotions the song brings up.

Some songs.. some songs just kill me

For example: I could be kissing my as-yet-located husband at the alter after just getting married

and if someone put on ” John Lennon – War is Over”, I would go weak at the knees, crumple into a heap on the floor

and ball my eyes out at the humanity, and lack of humanity in this world.

I’ve just found another one.

Except, it has to do with just one person.

I’ve gone from bouncing around the house, to sitting here,

appreciating the fact I can touch type because I can’t see the keys properly through the tears that are bulging in my eye-lids and streaming down my face.

It wasn’t “our” song. In fact, it was more the ” after we broke up this song became his song to explain the emotions he was going through”.

he mentioned it.


and i listened that night

and cried so hard for the heartbreak we’d both obviously dealt with.

were still dealing with.

I’m still dealing with.

I remember the strained car rides in the rain, needing to talk things over because

god-damn but we were so amazing at some stage

we have to try once more.

I remember holding each other while we listened together,

held each other so tight, too tight, scared-of-losing tight, because we both knew this would never last.

When i allow myself to think about you, i fall back down that hole

and end up writing bullshit on this blog to try and relieve myself of the ache.

That’s why it looks like I don’t care

because i care too much,

I’m going to have to walk away

but not before we both hear this song





ninja valentine

I’ve got 10 minutes before my meeting will start

but I wanted to take a second to write what’s in my heart.

You brought me some flowers, I’ll write you a poem

you can copy the link, tell your friends and show them

a sweet little ditty to show my thanks

to the long afternoons, with a couple of spanks

and cricket and beers, and soft flowy curtains

we’re now really friends, of that I am certain.

Only 3 months ago, I didn’t know who you were

except someone who raved, my life was a blur

Mr Fluffer they call you, I think that’s quite sweet,

I really am happy we’ve gotten to meet

each other and laugh, and goss and unwind

these last 3 months, I would not rewind.

I am the best landlady you’ve ever had

little gnocchi one day, just might have a dad.

So thank you once more, my day you have made

Happy Valentines Day, let’s hope you get laid



There’s something going on
I’m not thinking
I’m feeling.
All. The. Time.
Feelings of love, gratitude
etc are here
But it’s not emotions so much
as all-out, omg “I am going to rip your clothes off and have my way if you don’t do the same to me in the next 5 minutes” kind of feelings.
Insatiable doesn’t even cut it.
Girls: Celebrate your love
Guys: Don’t be afraid

Being single is such a double-edged sword.

.mmm.. sword 😉


It could be the combination of a few things;

yes, it’s true – I am on holidays

but I don’t think that’s the true catalyst.

It could be the psych visits, but for all she’s done,

I’ve done most of it myself.

It could be the trip to Miami I was awarded by the company I work for

for being awesome. But that’s like icing on the cake.

So what is it? Where does this stream of energy

running across my back and into my heart come from?

And the answer to that, is the answer to this smile,

these tapping feet, my dancing soul.

I’m so fucking happy.

I’m realising some truths just come with age

how delicious to discover them like jewels along an overgrown path.

Nothing, and I’ve traversed the external world and the internal questions,

Nothing allows me to soar the heights of love like lost-in-the-world, eyes-shut, heart open dancing

surrounded by the most beautiful people

surrounded by mother nature

encompassed in this all-too-human body,

relishing the short time we are here.

I’m still tingling, still feeling the space in my brain

behind my eyes


to my ears, and down my neck

open and inviting

all the things.

I’m so fucking happy right now, I could share this love with a million and not be left lacking


Death stares

I’m getting constant death, lip-curling looks from this 30-something woman on the train. It’s quite hilarious because I’ve never seen her before, I have no idea what I’ve done, and I just know my current smug smile is making her even angrier at me.
Happy Friday!
Saw a cute guy reading New Scientist on the 376 this morning..we had a little chat, but then someone sat next to him. And I was going to give him my business card, so we could chat Quantum Physics another time, but I totally chickened out. Looks like I’m getting the bus all next week

what remains is what’s true.

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.”

Louis de Bernières