What matters in the end

we had a discussion today
about
when we are hurt
do we tell the person that
we are hurt
or
do we sit in silence
wait for the person to come around
to realise in their own time
it may take years
a life time
even to the grave

forgiveness happens
way before
the reconciliation
we are no longer
imprisoned in our anger or rage
in response to hurt
but
the finally healing
does only come from
righting the wrongs
with
the truth

Breaking The Silence

A collaboration with Archangel White Wolf

We come from the land
of the deep blue sky
Milk and honey buried in the native mulberry shrubs
60000 years of tradition flows through the veins of this deep brown land
Wild and raw tunes flourish by the Ngurrungurrudjba
The rainbow serpent is in my dreams as Traditional owners call it seems
Their far cry for justice
and restoration of their land
We express in music
The political stand of
Midnight Oil
and INXS
The psychedelic of King Gizzard
Put politicians to the test
with the voice of Dan Sultan
Trials and Briggs
They are smashing the silence
of the political pigs
Give them justice and a fair go
Restore the balance of our country’s flow
Their waiting with patience
Heinous crimes committed
in the name of God
Reconcile the harmony of their land
It’s time for us to understand
They welcome us to their country
where we’re free to roam
Let our offspring still proudly call Straya home

Brain sad

A brain is down and drown
in its sorrow
no signs of tomorrow

There is a glitch
in its creativity
mumble jumble
incoherent symbols
spinning out into
the northern winter

where Christmas is white
Irish coffee is desirable
hot toddy keeps out the cold
Santa is actually cuddly

Here, the boomerang effect fails
hot as hell
excessive sweat makes
the brain sad

Her type

She used to think
she had a type
the opposites attract type
crush after crush
left in crash fatigue on
high and dry freeway

Her hair is thinning
waistline is disappearing
She wonders anyone
will consider her
their type

She feels the desperation of want
simultaneously of unwanted
her lonely day stretches into the night
like the spilled vinaigrette
greasy, sour and stained

She gathers all pieces
starts swiping for the remaining hope
kind eyes
mean nose
lips that will make her cum
testosterone filled body
a sizable boner

She used to think
she had a type
the type that makes her feel 16
all over again

And now
she will settle for a type
that will soothe her heat rash
like an ice block
hard and cold

Calling for collaboration

Hi to my followers and occasionally stop-by readers!

I am calling for writing poetry in collaboration with You.

A bit of background of myself. I love writing poetry though I received no formal training in doing so, nor have I well read classic English poetry. So I write fairly free form for lack of knowledge. I believe poetry is a great way to express an individual’s creativity.

If you are interested in writing collaboration pieces with me, please email me here, we can discuss topics and a way forward.

Looking forward to hearing from you! 😊

Cassa Bassa

Between blinks

In a blink of an eye
farewelled my childhood
there was more life’s demand
than playing in the sand pit

In a blink of an eye
waved goodbye to school years
there were more knowledge and learning
than burning the midnight oil

In a blink of an eye
jetted off in an aeroplane
there were different palletes of colour
than painting the same lanscape of my motherland

In a blink of an eye
so longed the selfish me
there is another life far more precious
than my own

In a blink of an eye
grieving the passing of my youth
there is room for more wisdom
than recounting the once undeniable outward beauty

Between these blinks
a curious mind explored the world
an earnest student looked for answers
a restless heart searched for a home
a woman strived for being whole
a hunger soul is still seeking peace

🔞City central old pubs

the old pubs in the city
like prefessional hookers
they know the area too well

where are the wild bucks parties
who has the look of desparate loneliness
when are the tourist buses setting off
a bunch of impulsive shoppers

the beers have to be fresh
the liquors never diluted
little things to avoid aggression

you serve them well
they come back for more
even bring their mates
and ask for discount
during happy hours
they are cunts really
but who cares
pubs and hookers
the oldest trades
each gets what they open business for
cheers!

Numbers

one
two
three
lovers
plant
a
tree

four
five
six
their
children
live
to
thrive

seven
eight
nine
generations
pass
down
the
line

ten
the
perfect
number
completes
the
circle
of
time