Writing - My Art Form
A Decent Life I : Stories of Time, The Broken and The Corrupt
I was good. I was bad.
I was hot. I was cold.
I was the order. I was the chaos.
I was everything I am not.
To know hot, I knew cold. To be good I was evil. It’s duplicity of the self. I own my dreams no more then I own my finger print, no more then I chose my own birth. I created nothing yet my dreams created the events on the path that led me here.
How can I be forged through something I do not own?
How can I be the product of something I did not create?
I was not myself. I was no-one. Duplicity makes me everyone.
I am the sinner. I am the saint.
A Decent Life II : Chaotic Whispers.
The artists, painters, singers and poets are lost for a reason. Their canvas is left empty, pages are not written; a world without art is a world without love.
Paint me a picture, you know I miss ya’, you spin my mind with your words and sing to my soul.
Let us make this world an art show.
Without him the world was empty. The sun was cold to my touch. I sat and I stared, my wet eyes would wonder, where had he gone and were, we now done? One last look, one last adventure, please sir… just a little more time. His style, his swagger, his jokes and his word; everything he was, I miss it all.
I’m left to watch trees at sunrise and stare over on the ocean view. With sore red eyes, tears are the scent of life, I will keep walking around trying to make good. In a way I’m trying to remake you. Words fail my feelings and my new view of this world, a view left to cast without you.
You saved me once, you saved me twice, we all live because we are saved thanks to you.
A Decent Life III : Divergent Paths
I wanted to master a forgotten language and feel the power of flight. I wanted to find God and speak to the power and know there was meaning. It was happiness I searched for but wisdom I began to find. Would my time be different, would my actions change if I found a God or was travel my muse?
But my eyes look over the spaces I know and where you should be you are not. And I add my memories to the empty space I see and, in a way, you are there. But its only me that can see you and as you have disappeared, one day the people who love me will look on a space that bare, and where I should be, I will be not and they will have to add me.
Untamed Australia: Father and Son
The Story of Jimmy and James O'Brien
Coming in 2021
The Wolf in I