I’m enjoying the quiet days as this year comes to an end, Filling my days with music, and cataloguing my albums, There’s a simple comfort to be had, in this time alone I spend, I’m revisiting sonic memories from simpler times, Passers by look bemused, what’s a 50-year-old supposed to listen to? Thrash metal, nu metal, death metal, doom metal, black metal, there’s no crime, Speed masters and slow doom crunchers can fill my ears with their call, Dark Throne, Behemoth, Black Sabbath, Anthrax, Slayer, oh here’s Kill ‘Em All, Early Metallica, followed by Megadeth and Slipknot, all rumble from out my front door, Music is a sedative, an escape, a muse, but mine is not everyone’s cup of tea, Rather than life stress, right now it’s big riffs, power chords, bass and drums for me.
We’ve spent the last few weeks now, busily preparing, So much to do, before reaching this feast we’re sharing, We’ve renovated, tidied, chopped, sliced, and ran to and fro, But we have all the work done now, so it’s on with the show, It’s early, just the cockatoos outside share this bright morning, Screeching at the sun, it’s the afternoon heat they are forewarning, An Australian Christmas is hot, some years it can be quite obscene, Yet a fat bearded man in a red winter coat, can always be seen, Kids still sing of sleigh bells, some families eat a hot roasted meal, But thankfully culture is changing, and we’re finding our own deal, For some, there’s backyard cricket, barbecues, salads, and cold beers to plunder, Because there is no freezing Christmas, when you are living down under, Our family will arrive later this morning, and some final cooking will be done, Before we sit and eat, chat, and then listen to the air conditioner’s hum, No fat bearded men in red winter coats are on display here, But there will be plenty of food, creamy desserts, and some lively cheer. Although our decorations are black, the lights will still be shining bright, When, with full bellies, we surrender another Christmas to the night.
Christmas is near now, but there’s no time to toast,
My children are adults now, and this year I am the host,
A year will come soon, when I’ll come along for the ride,
When this life grows bigger, than what I can provide,
Then I’ll be the visitor, and Dad combined,
Two weird aspects of my life, once a year entwined,
This year, if there are full bellies and smiling faces, I’ve won,
For the best gift of all, is this moment of togetherness and fun.
I wish a merry time to all, no matter what your personal beliefs, religions or lifestyles are. I'm not a religious person, but I do appreciate that some of you are, enjoy the end of 2024 with your loved ones. I'll see you all again next year. Love from my family to yours. xo
To be a river in the next life would be, Busy, refreshing, timeless and free, The water rushing, swirling, passing all by, While on my banks, beautiful trees sway, Colourful birds screeching their calls, Fly up and far away. My banks cut through bright green fields, I can see busy machinery and people cutting wheat, While nearby sheep and cattle meander down to drink and wet their feet, I’d be sorry to leave behind the quiet countryside, Further along my banks I’d find a hectic busy loud city, Finally, here I am, the end of the river mouth to pour into the sea, Timeless this river, never an end, Another new life for me.
This poem was written by my late mother, Christine Elaine Verkys, while she fruitlessly battled a terminal disease to stay with us. She was the very lifeforce of our family, and after she passed, sadly so did everything else. Personally, there have been few happy days since. Me a River features on her memorial stone, which stays with me to this day.
A dreamer’s eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a gasp for air, It feels as though the sleeper has been brought to life for the first time, The confusion passes, and they acclimatise to this new red sunlit world, Standing high on a dune, the dreamer looks down on a black city lit by red lights, This world of exploration is dusty and dim, as the dreamer enters the city limits, It seems lifeless, countless tall glossy black metallic buildings stretch upwards, Every dark doorway is scarlet lit, there is no sound here other than the wind, No birds sing, no sounds of human commotion, just an empty silent expanse, The dreamer stands in the middle of a sand-covered road, paved with dark stone, The wind whips sand into the sleeper’s eyes, as the sound of a low deep hum rumbles, From the bowels of the earth, the dreamer feels the vibration through the road, And as the sun begins to fall, the darkness brings sinister tidings, From the black alcoves along the street, countless glowing red eyes appear, The glowing eyes follow the dreamer while they cautiously walk among the black towers, Again, the deep horn rumbles with a hum, and the sound of 1000 whispering voices begins, The whispers are almost deafening, it feels as though they are inside the dreamer’s head, With ears covered, the run begins, a left turn here, a right turn there, and into a side street, Black metal streetlights line the roadway, all glowing with a vivid red glow, In the dusty darkness at the end of the street, crooked black creatures with red eyes spill out, They cut off any escape, they rapidly approach, driving the dreamer back towards the dunes, The pavement soon becomes deep sand and a steep incline, where feet sink and slip, The creatures are still in pursuit, the whispering intensifies as the dreamer struggles to move, Coal black arms burst from the sand clutching the dreamer’s clothing and limbs, Many unnaturally long arms clasp and pull the dreamer face down onto the dune side, The sand below the dune begins to give way revealing an enormous gaping mouth, Tentacle-like arms begin to drag the dreamer into the mouth from where they originate, In an instant the dreamer is devoured, the mighty jaws snap shut before sinking into the sand, Silence falls, the city empties, the red sun rises, and on the top of the dune, A new pair of eyes open, suddenly and wide, accompanied by a new dreamer’s gasp for air
Your silver face shimmers in my eyes, The touch of your cold metal buttons is electric, You’re uncovered, a needle is revealed, and my senses heighten, My fingers dance across narrow spines, as I make my selection, I first remove the sleeve, then the coal black circle, Gently set down, the ritual is almost complete, Of all the needle tracks, I choose the first one, With one movement of your arm, the world spins, A sweet sound fills the air and nourishes my mind, I see green lights, orange lights, and golden-lit gauges, As the black circle spins, I’m filled with powerful memories, You are a portal, my time machine, my hi-fi, You are my beloved silver Akai.
I could literally rip the skin and flesh from my face right now, I am not in my own mind, I am not even in my own postcode, My self-hate is so powerful, so invincible, The effort to hold it back is beyond comprehension, I hate myself with so much vigor and venom tonight, No rhyme, no reason, just self-disgust and anger, I make no sense, I am bad company, I am not to be around, I scratch as the fan passes, I clench until its return, I want to be the kind me, but I am unable to connect, I am rocking, thinking, hating, trying to exist. Tonight I AM the monster of rumour.
Dan Verkys 