Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Madame Sickness seeps in, like a thick black gelatinous mire,
She hangs upon every breath, and every thought,
Her weight is immense, overloading with ballast,
However, Madame Sickness is a fair-weather friend,
While she lingers, she will leave her mark,
Like teeth pressed into skin, she leaves temporary scarring.
When Madame releases you from her embrace,
She vanishes, leaving little evidence of her crimes,
She will visit you again, but never when you expect her.
Who’ll be there to pick me up when I fall,
This is a question that the anxious call,
When it all feels too much to bear,
When happiness only brings despair,
When the mind races and the heart beats panicked pain,
And the body is held a hostage by its very own brain,
There’s nobody to pick me up when I fall,
So, from under the weight of things, it will be me who’ll crawl,
But not until heartache runs its painful course,
And anxiety has drunk her fill, without remorse.
New growth leaves the earth,
Soft during its virgin spring,
Not yet a thorn, until it dries,
As spring passes, death beckons,
Now sharp and hardened, they pierce,
They cut and tear, death is overwhelmed,
And summer is born.
Bright blue lights fill a darkened room,
Cool air flows from air conditioning,
The injured lay prone, away from the burning sun,
A swell of music creates a dreamlike state,
Eyes remain closed in this quiet healing moment,
Pink Floyd asks a crazy diamond to shine on,
The injured oblige, trying to block out the pain,
With a cold drink and two sleeping hounds at hand,
A sleeping bride breathes deeply in a nearby bedroom,
The injured drifts in and out of consciousness,
The summer heat outside is held at bay for now.
The serenity of this moment will soon be over.
I am not the night,
I am not the morning light,
I am not the earth beneath,
I am not the hope you seek,
I am unseen, yet everywhere,
I am he of greying hair,
I am one for whom no one cares,
I am just another statistic,
From a generation born fatalistic.
X
Why does part of me always seek the harshest of feelings,
Why am I not content when I’m at rest, the peace never visits for long,
It is though my mind actively seeks out negative pathways,
Rather than remain quiet, stay at rest, be calm and content,
Instead, a pursuit haunts my sleep, and affects my waking day,
I don’t like it, I don’t want it, but it’s there,
I seek comfort in the hunt for objects that bring me pleasure,
An obscure part of my mind knows I’ll soon be unable to attain them,
So, I collect, I stockpile, I obsess, I spend, I hunt further,
Everything is recorded, everything is placed in correct order, all but me,
I foresee darkness on my horizon, and I fear the grey days that it will place me in,
I’m unsure I have the strength left to again walk that long hard road back to the light,
I don’t want that feeling, but it is inevitable.
I resent the persistence of time, and the silent murders that it commits,
Time is never held accountable, it has no day in court to answer for its crimes,
Lifespan, not death itself, that is the real ticking time-bomb of the mind,
There is no going back, just a subtle pushing forward from unseen hands,
Dark days are coming, I don’t want them, but they are inevitable.
Two rivers born of a sister star,
Are parted by green mountains far,
At great distances, they remain aware,
Timeless is the love, that they both share.
The rivers will still flow, after both stars fall,
An endless journey through time they’ll crawl,
Finding peace in their waters ebb and flow.
For time means nothing to the bond they know.
Although the rivers meet and part too soon,
They are connected by the very same moon,
Up in night skies, where sister stars shone,
They are two rivers divided, but they flow as one.
They will meet again, when their journeys are done,
Leaving behind creeks and streams, that forever will run,
Into the ocean’s great mouth, where all good rivers flow,
Together finding peace, beneath the moon’s nightly glow.
- For my cousin Kristy
Two hearts bound by a family tie,
Each one a cousin, that lands divide,
Tho farewelled tears fall in silent times,
Our eyes remain young, as old age chimes.
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
Dan Verkys 