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- Sat, January 31, 2026
| *fusion - poetry [2004] | << [Back] |
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Total poems in the archive: 29 Total stories in the archive: 3 |
[21 December 2004]
Yesterday, you found a genie,
Lying down in Grandma's old dish!
He popped right out and said:
"I can grant you NO wish!"
Your mouth opened as wide as the Grand Canyon,
For he had a big, fat tail.
"Calm down", you told yourself,
But before you know it, you let out a wail.
"Mum, Dad, where are you?
Come here and look at what I found!"
Seconds and minutes passed,
But still no sound...
Hush! The genie then speaks!
"Tell me where I am!
If you don't tell me now,
I swear you will be as good as a dinner of lamb!"
Panic instilled in your veins,
Searching for a suitable answer.
You thought: "Tell him that he's out of his mind...
...and suffering from cancer."
"I hope he can't read my mind",
You accidentally said aloud.
"Watch it boy", the genie said,
"One click of my fingers and you could be a smoky cloud!"
Fear made your legs run,
But the rest of your body wouldn't budge at all!
"Nowhere to run or hide...", the genie said viciously,
"...and no one to call!"
You hoped you were only having a dream,
But these thoughts that ran through your head,
Could only be worsened,
With a genie in a dish,
Lying beside your bed.
[2 August 2004]
Happy Birthday to you,
You're now my age too,
Times ticking like a bomb,
And you've got no clue.
[1 August 2004]
Happiness is the cure to all diseases,
A medicine so easily produced,
And so easily taken away.
Happiness is the sweetener of all foods,
And brightens your day,
And the day of others.
Happiness is like the grass,
Swaying in a gentle breeze,
On a warm summer's day.
Happiness is like the notes of music,
Bouncing around,
On a musical stage.
Happiness is like a nice warm fire,
And a soft, cosy bed,
On a cold winter's night.
When happiness breaks,
Calm becomes anger,
Friendships become broken.
When happiness breaks,
Laughter fades,
Replaced by a constant cursing.
When happiness breaks,
Lists are made,
Which no one wishes to see.
When happiness breaks,
Fires die,
And once smooth silk, turns to coarse stone.
Happiness.
Remember to add a dash when simmering,
And generously when boiling.
[31 July 2004]
It's the 31st of July,
It's funny how fast time flies,
And fortunes fade,
And decisions made,
In a world where death rules life.
Half a year of school has passed,
Too many students couldn't last,
The slaughter of constant work,
Would stick and lurk,
Over tired minds.
For working mums and dads,
It has been nothing short of bad,
Late nights or early mornings,
It's the constant calling,
Of a workplace too busy each day.
Terrorism rules the Earth,
Many believe it was Saddam Hussein who caused its birth,
But the killing still goes on,
Even after the "tyrant" has gone,
And after his kingdom fell.
The world economy is going up and down,
The local property market is winding down,
Companies have had their loss and gain,
Many workers have felt the pain,
And all they see is a door saying "exit".
As I write this poem,
Life still goes on,
And time ticks to August 1.
[29 July 2004]
"Ding! Ding!"
'Twas the final boarding ring,
For Flight 763,
To New York City,
On January 17.
It was my family's first holiday,
In a land far, far away,
My kids would moan,
And say: "It's too far from home!",
And cover their tears with sleep.
Safely buckled in my seat,
I found a foot-rest for my feet,
And told my wife:
"This will be the best holiday of your life...
...in New York City".
All of a sudden my wife gave me a stare,
Whilst we were in the air,
And told me her head ached,
I said: "It's probably travel sickness for goodness sake!"
And that it would soon disappear.
I suddenly felt a pipe poke at the top of my back,
And thought: "Terrorist attack!",
And turned around,
To see sock-headed bandits in my surrounds,
Threatening passengers with their glistening guns.
Slowly putting my hands up,
I asked them: "Wassup?",
And quickly grabbed a terrorist's arm,
And with a disarm,
Felt slightly relieved.
The other terrorists were silent,
Not even one bit violent,
But still pointing guns,
At anyone who would run,
Before they complete their mission.
I stared at the terrorist I had caught,
And suddenly had a thought,
I pulled the sock from his head,
And said: "Your dead!
You will never escape this plane!"
My eyes caught his face,
I shrieked in disgrace,
But inside I was laughing like mad,
It was sort of bad,
But I was staring into the eyes of my brother.
[29 July 2004]
Hate.
What a word!
How absurd!
How can a four letter word
Mean a lot
And hurt so much?
Bow to arrow
Hearts a sorrow
Tears too many.
A mouth to an ear
A hole in a feather
Lightning strikes a thousand.
Hate.
Fate to a word.
How absurd!
[26 July 2004]
*written on music camp
Rays of warm orange light illuminate the land,
Warming the backs of featherless birds and,
The tops of trees,
Like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.
Dark browns of tree bark,
Turn to gold metal plates,
Like armour on a knight of old,
Riding off into the distance.
The golden rays shine down,
Piercing the white fluffy clouds,
Like a thousand waving torches,
On a dark night in the forest.
Orange slowly turns to pink and red,
Colouring the once blue sky,
Into a red rose petal,
Gently gliding with the wind.
[11 July 2004]
One boring, gloomy old day,
I had nothing to do and nothing to say,
But just to close my eyes,
And dream of blue skies,
In the classroom.
I dream of a sun,
A sun so warm and radiant it would start melting my thumbs,
Until my hand looked like polished metal,
When in time, where rust would come and settle,
And rid it of its charm.
I dream of a forest so thick and green,
Where nothing could escape, not even a scream,
Lush, green foliage everywhere before my eyes,
Overgrown everywhere and blocking the sky,
Like boredom to the brain.
I dream of an ocean,
So wide and big and open,
Rocking back and forth like a baby to its cradle,
Or like a slamming spoon on a dinner table,
Side to side to side.
I dream of a summer sunset,
A sunset I have not seen yet,
And a sunset I do not wish to see,
Not even whilst in a tree,
And definitely not whilst sitting dreaming in the classroom.
[7 July 2004]
*Debutante Ball 2004
'Twas the night of May Seven,
When beautiful fairies pranced,
And charming men danced,
Like ballroom dancers in heaven.
Our dance steps were not known by chance,
It was at the school on Thursday nights where we pranced,
Three long months of practise and learning by rote,
We spun, we twisted, we clapped,
No wonder some people asked, "How did you do that?"
It was a night filled with laughter and glee,
Too bad it wasn't as joyful when down on our knees,
But once the audience saw our cheerful, glowing faces,
All they could do was stand in awe,
And check out our moves on the dance floor.
A smooth, slow, waltz was first to impress,
A little twist, a flick of a dress,
But it was the fox-trot that got the mood going,
With a little bend here, and a little rock there,
It was more stylish and elegant, if I were to compare.
Men in Black and a duo of encores were last to steal the show,
All modern and 'hip' - more with the flow,
I guess that rounds out a fun night for all,
A long-lasting memory - The Debutante Ball.
[19 June 2004]
Why, oh why, did you punch my face,
Was it because I am a different race,
Or maybe because I punched you first,
As you made me wait and die of thirst.
Why, oh why, could you do such a thing,
My mouth is so broken I can't even sing,
Or laugh, or smile,
Or taunt, or rile,
Or even talk to my friend, Kyle.
Why, oh why, did you clench your fists,
You took a swing and didn't miss,
And it hurt so much,
That fist of yours,
I wish you were without your claws.
Why, oh why, do I still remember,
The punches you gave me last September,
I think you're too violent,
But you deny,
I can't believe you told me a lie.
Why, oh why, am I contemplating,
These punches that got me hating,
I feel your knuckles on my face,
Its you and me I can't embrace.
[23 May 2004]
Heavy soles rock the ground,
Like thunder in the valley of long lost souls,
Souls which no longer see or hear,
Or take this world as their own.
Lightning strikes,
As if a thousand arrows,
Like needles,
Were raining down,
From a place of no origin.
Leaves rustle in our surroundings,
As if the tall trees were listening to us,
Watching us from above,
And predicting our every move.
Step, after step, after step,
We dreamed of a world,
A world where darkness would not prevail,
Even through the largest forests,
And the deepest seas.
Up ahead I could see serenity,
Beautiful rays of light illuminating,
The once beautiful branches,
Of a leafless eucalyptus tree.
[14 May 2004]
Perching upon the soft, delicate leaves of a tall, dying tree,
I gaze up to the twinkling eyes of a thousand stars,
All blinking back at me from the picturesque night sky.
I longed for a world that would stay as peaceful as the sky above me,
Peace that would radiate the souls of the lost,
A peace which could enlighten the world with its power.
I longed for a world that would contain happiness, laughter, and fun,
Every single day.
Fluorescent stars begin to blur and disappear from my tiny eyes,
Eyes that have seen darkness, war, and evil,
Darkness that prevails through all my dreams,
Wars that never end,
And evil that never turns away.
My world is crying.
Seeing my withering wings makes me cry.
Silver-coated, shiny tears drop like bombs onto the delicate leaves below,
Leaving big dents on their surface,
That only time will show.
Loneliness strikes me like a lightning bolt,
As the moon hides behind her quilt,
Colouring the world in shades of black.
One-by-one, bolts of lightning drizzle the land,
Slowly zapping all life that remains.
My world is hurting.
Something is definitely wrong.
Slowly taking-off from my lonesome perch,
I feel the chunks of cold water splashing against my body,
Hindering my journey to nowhere.
Bare trees sway violently,
Searching to grab for anything loose,
In a hope to survive the storm.
My orientation is lost in a confused and mixed-up world.
A world that has many storms.
A world in which I cannot comprehend.
A world that is lost when faith dies.
I head towards the outline of a cave,
Its shadows casting imprints in my brain,
A brain that has long been lost,
And a brain that has given up all hope in the world.
Grey tears streak down my tired face,
As I peer out into the stormy open,
From the dark and depressed cave.
Scratching, sounds amongst the barren land,
And as I look out to a lonesome, depressed tree,
I see the innocent teary eyes of my best friend,
Crying along with me.
poetic jungle of juices