Tuesday, December 30, 2014


The black diamonds set in your eyes
Are all I need to realise
Just how mighty Samson was bound
And had his strength sheared to the ground.

The soft coffee of your smooth skin,
Pungent velvet like scotch or gin,
Shows why King David stared that night
And watched lust bathe by bright moonlight.

The smile that makes my blood spurt fire
To burn you with my hot desire
Must be what made wise Solomon
Become love's fool, his judgement gone.

Saturday, December 27, 2014


So tightly strung and bound in mute surrounds -
As if the world around me wants no sounds -
I twang and echo like a chord upturned
And fade into nothing like failure burned.

My verses never win a critic’s praise
And all my prose is better set ablaze.
Yet here I labour and write ‘til it hurts -
Seeking Lear’s fool, but finding Mistah Kurtz.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014


And so this is Christmas -
Well, who would have thunk?
There’s been parties for weeks now
And everyone’s drunk.

So have a great Christmas
But don’t mention Christ.
He’s not multicultural
‘Though his love once sufficed.

For now we have new gods
And mountains of cash
That stop us from thinking
And help us feel flash.

A merry, merry Christmas,
And a happy new year,
It won’t be much better,
There’s plenty to fear.

This land’s dying
‘Cause we killed it.
Our world’s finished,
We can’t rebuild it.

(*with acknowledgements to John Lennon's wonderful anthem of peace)

Monday, December 22, 2014


God is not dead nor does He sleep.
His tears water the flowers in Martin Place.
His wet eyes are on the mourners -
In their gracious calm we can see His face.

God never left us to our wars
He held back the worst of our violent quests
And rescued those who suffered most,
Granting them glory in eternal rests.

God is not in your foul jihad.
He sent us the prince of justice and peace -
A Lord who loved His enemies,
A King whose death was humankind’s release.

God allows us our ignorance,
Our avarice and lust for worldly jewels.
He smiles on us – our fond father –
While we behave like Yuletide’s greedy fools.

God loves us all nevertheless,
Despite our prodigal appalling crimes.
He restrains the worst of evil -
His mercy tempers these hate-ridden times.

"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep."  (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Christmas 1863)

Saturday, December 20, 2014


Two thousand and twenty years ago
An infant cried at the end of a forced ride.
He lived and died as if he was the garden's man -
Eden's emissary dispensing damper bread,
Dining with wine divined from holy vines.
Prophets said there was nothing to draw us to him
But I have met him in visions and know the truth.
I walked beside him for fleeting seconds,
There were no angels and no royal parades,
Only a dusty hilltop and death as an outcast.
My eyes gazed at the title raised on a bloody tree -
Written in scorn for the king of all kings.
The world of tinsel worships a baby's magical birth,
I see a man, if he can be called a man,
And always I sense the ghastly silhouette
Of the rugged scaffold where we tortured God.