So much time and effort expended

tediously applying glue

to the shards that fall from the plastered façade

hand-crafted for all to view

How much more time and rest afforded

if we cheered as each piece fell down

allowed it to crumble and fall at our feet

then, rise up on this conquered ground

hobart ruins


Image of ruins near Ross, Tasmania – Mercury Newspaper.



Pneuma (Breath of Life)


One simple breath inhaled heavy like dew, set gale force winds in tow

To re-arrange my sentiments, fix my eyes on an other-world abode

The birth was painful like the first, shot like a quivering arrow

Still as a statue outside my sandstone baptism,

this divided my flesh, bone and marrow


I returned to life just as it was, but touted a whole new agenda

My circle of friends were aghast at the change,

their replies were like silent surrender

Another life conquered in the spiritual realm, on the North Sydney Bible belt

From an altar to an unknown God – my sacrifice clearly felt

Alone among many friends, delivered to Byron Bay’s music fest

Swimming in mud, flowers in my hair, this would put her new faith to the test

We took along a son of a preacher, from the backwater of Mount Druitt ghetto

Jesus shirt, long hair, bare feet, and a heart for all folk, rock and metal.


Standing behind him in the communal space

of a crowded purple haze tent city

With multiple bands on multiple stages, belting out blues, dazed in self-pity

He asked them all as they passed us and stared,

had they heard about Jesus’ name?

My heart pounded then, my eyes opened again,

just as much as when Silverchair played


So we swam in the mud, we were wrestled to the ground,

not a single clean person around

We walked and we talked, we crowded and surfed,

swam the beaches and baked on the ground

Soaked in tea tree dams to tend to our complexions,

under darkened clouds it pelted down

In the midst of sheer joy my two worlds collided,

I saw that anywhere God could be found.

Wrestling for glory


to wrestle…

The kind of gentle fellow who lends us all an ear
Who shares the clothes off his back and casts out all our fears

With but a word and warning, that nought can harm us here
When the power of the all mighty, is ours but to revere

As such, a simple gesture, to pluck off his collar in haste
Trading robes of white for white, a blackbelt round his waist

Just as Jacob endured long night, these duelling fellows and dames
Eternal glory for the fight, lest we forget His name

For the young Reverend..


Grappler image

Grapplers for Christ

Queen of Hearts


A painted portrait
of tender maid
wrapped in lace
and golden chain

A single rose
in her hand
her wit and eye
the reprimand

The letter B
Emblazoned bare
the second wife
Young and fair

Her mystery
and brave of face
The Queen of Hearts
Relented chaste

Her womb did bare
so many sorrows
Her life discarded
New wife tomorrow

New faith was founded
to cover shame
A line of grace
Flows from her name

Portrait picture

The Perfect Circle


Staring at the new day sun
veiled fog above the rise
Translucent hiding perfect sphere
Shuffling mist smears the sky

Exotics and their native mates
Sit alongside still and wide
Spreading out their sparse leaves
A kaleidoscope of fire

Wet and deep the colours blush
the damp lit canvas glows
Woollen warm-blooded bodies
Rise and graze their nose