Archive for March 2016

The Strip   Leave a comment

The Strip

A camouflaged ice cream truck parks down the side alley. Children commando crawl along the red brick wall. Cream is now the new ice for 6 year olds. In the mini mart, ice creams are no longer on display – in plain paper packaging you have to ask for them by name. The shoe store next door is only for women in a certain age bracket (their husbands must earn more than $250,000 per year). The styles are fine for some. A new cafe stands next door, although the building is on its knees. The menus along this strip are all the same – raisin toast, avocado toast and eggs Benedict – on toast. An expensive unique fashion boutique stands beside a project compassion store. I wonder if they mutually exclude each other’s customers. Brown, single roast, ethical, fair trade coffees, in large or medium sizes only, look out over a mirror sheen plate of blue steel. Sometimes blue and brown do go together. The starting price is $780,000. Nine floors of capitalistic views – but only for those that are up front with cash. If the purchase price won’t kill you, the body corporate fees will. Downstairs the accountant and the hairdresser sit side by side. One cuts hair, the other taxes. Which one does not feel guilty drinking ethical coffee. The Chinese restaurant never seems to have customers while the fish shop next door is always full. This suburb is white middle class baby boomer territory and it shows in their appetites. Sometimes there are no other logical explanations.


Posted 31/03/2016 by DarKarsean in Uncategorized

Nothing   Leave a comment


Only those that are last know what it is like to be the first last.

To be the first last is different to having been the first first.

The first first will never know what it is like to be the last last – or the first last.

Between the first and last there will always be a space.

If there is no last there will be no first.

There will only be an only.

If there is no first there will only be nothing.

Posted 24/03/2016 by DarKarsean in Uncategorized

The Last White Crane   Leave a comment

The Last White Crane

The white crane would fly the morning sunrise
through the sickly smoke from the funeral pyre

Mourners would stand from sunrise to sunset then
watch as the ashes were scattered to the wind

On the mountain of his birth he would die
returning home when the white crane called

When found by his guardian spirit, the white crane,
he would leave the stifling confines of the city behind

One last journey home, one last long walk
before he would join the crane in ethereal flight

His lungs had ached for an air he could not find,
an air clean of spirit and humble in strength

The city was a place not kind to white cranes, or
other totemic animals, but the crane persevered

Flying in from the north on a hot summer’s evening breeze
the crane easily found the spirit of its one connected soul

Amongst a million homes and four times as many people
their connection was strong, the crane had flown true

Arriving home the man saw the white crane sitting upon his roof
and knew his time had come; he would leave the following day

Eating one last small meal, he thought of what lay ahead
and wondered on what path the crane would lead him

His sleep peaceful for the first time in years, his dreams
were guarded by the last migrating Siberian crane

In the morning the crane slowly stretched its wings,
raised itself gracefully into the air and began to fly

The man, rested and sated, followed the crane;
where the crane flew the man went without hesitation

Down long valleys, across deep rivers, over mountain passes
man and crane travelled together, souls beginning to entwine

In an octave of days plus half again their destination was met,
though it was not a place aesthetically pleasing to die

His youthful days gone, he would still die before his parents time,
city life had left him lacking the strength and stamina to live long

The crane would lead him true, guiding him to the next life
and although born together the crane too, would outlive him

His remaining family members and those few friends still alive
joined him for what was to be his last meal in bodily form

The morning found the white crane standing sentry outside
the room of the man he was to fly to a new world

His parents mourned as only parents can, prepared the
funeral pyre to burn for a day, then watched, like family do

As the fire burned the crane rose and dived, rose and
dived through the smoke and embers of the funeral pyre

Each time the crane breathed in the soul of the burning man,
it’s feathers becoming blackened by soot and floating embers

Minute after minute, hour after hour it flew
until the raging fire was no more

Landing finally at the edge of the now cold funeral pyre
the crane stood with his white feathers covered in ash

The mans parents clasped hands and bowed to the crane
then watched as it raised itself and flew to the heavens

There was now only one task left for the crane to do as it
flew higher and longer looking for the source of the sacred river

Under a full moon the now blackened Siberian crane flew
until it spied the ancient headwater of the river

Circling three times, watching all below, it finally dived into
the depths of the river where the surging water cleaned it’s feathers

Stung by the cold the crane could do no more that to exhale,
in one mighty breath, the soot and soul of the man he had protected

Rising once more, thist time from the river, the arctic white
crane flew to the sky to return from where he came

That year the white crane flew alone on it’s familiar migratory path,
as it had done for the past seven years, but this year, it would not return

The last white crane had once again found its one connected soul
and finally they would join each other in heavenly flight

Posted 13/03/2016 by DarKarsean in Uncategorized

The Lens Cleaner   Leave a comment

I’m a lens cleaner with anti fog
A window washer with only water
A waiter without a table
Give me blind faith and I’ll be
A martyr without a cross
Or a sinner that’s no saint
You kneel before
Yet I kneel after
But only because I cannot stand
I’m a car without movement
Because cement blocks can’t roll
I give myself wings
But still cannot fly
My glasses are dirty
I’m a lens cleaner with anti fog

Posted 08/03/2016 by DarKarsean in Uncategorized

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