To coin Ms. Edley's expression, I'm feeling a little "overexposed"...so I've made the shift to friends only. You never really know who is stalking you from the shadows.

war.drobe

Pasted down to your forehead
like hair in the rain,
caught in the frosty embrace
of an early winter's morning
come too late and
never lasting long enough.

Wrapped around
your broad shoulders,
a forgotten shirt
hanging in misty silence,
anticipating the stroke of sun
burning holes in this solitude.

Latched through
your belt buckles,
clinging to sapphire stitching,
a restraint modelled
on unrelenting need
for an artificial umbilical.

Tied to your shoelaces,
dragged along the ground
through the last remains
of our mid-season mudslide -
a bitter reminder
that we will never fly
__________________
by me.

her heart
was the ocean
(beating, beating)

in waves
she lived - under,
over...until

moses
parted the seas -
broke her in two.

Margaret Hassan, a woman who dedicates her life to helping the Iraqi people, is reportedly killed by her kidnappers; A woman is shot 7 times at almost point blank range by her ex-husband while working in an Adelaide department store...today is just too much.

Mauro and I are doing our first real wedding "thing" tonight. One of the hotels here that we're considering for our reception is having a Wedding Open Night. We were invited by virtue of the fact that we called them for wedding information. We're heading over around 6pm, after work, to have champagne and canapes in the ballroom (!)

She wears her sadness
in pink pashmina
around her shoulders

(the reflection, 
     masking
         boulders
            of deeper troubles
               in her eyes).

"Beware the landslide"

The world marches
on below;
bellowing;
billowing
- life.

And the vibrations,
    (sensations)
of happiness' creations
do not
          move
               her
                  in ways

that a smile should...

(she is boiling magma
beneath stoppered earth).

She wears her hope
in her laces, frayed
in places, looped
through her shoes -

                 clues
                 (imprinted in the stampede
                  of destitution's foot...)

fall.

Thanks to patriciaofoz  for this time waster :-)

( answer me this... )

I have spent the longest time working on the biggest piece of rubbish assignment I've ever done. I have no clue what I'm doing and I'm so tired and sick of sitting at this computer...

I have certain things - saved messages, photographs - that I can always rely on to pick me up and put a smile on my face. When I need it the most. Some of these items are funny photos reminding me of good times, lost to a distant past. Others are long letters and emails from dear friends who know just what to say at all the right occasions. Then there are little things, like these few words which landed in my inbox well over a year ago, from an amazing boy that I hardly know which are always good for a giggle:

"my giraffe's about 5 inches.. he's tiny.
he'd lose if he were to fight to yours.
but i think they'd get along."

See I'm all about them words...

I just returned from my guitar lesson and am feeling slightly better. I think the cause of this pseudo-hangover is in fact my lingering stomach bug. I can't eat as much anymore and nor can I drink as much, apparently. Doesn't that make for an interesting life?

I'm sitting around now passing time while I wait for my appointment with the physiotherapist to roll around. Considering my right shoulder is so fucked up I probably shouldn't even be playing guitar. But I suppose I value music much more than I value my physical wellbeing. Ain't that the truth.

Alrighty. Going to go and find something to eat. I think there's some soy yoghurt in the fridge calling my name. I may have to adopt a proper vegan diet very soon because I fear that I am missing out on vital nutrients by simply cutting dairy out of my diet without replacing it with anything. I've never really been a big meat eater either so I'm running love on the iron and protein I'd say.

Anyway, enough of my dietary requirements. I will see you on the other side of this weekend...hopefully.

xo

Hmmm work dinner last night. Too much wine. Didn't make a fool of myself by dancing on any tables. Wasn't even drunk. But feeling shady this morning nonetheless. Wine will do that to you. Note to self, drink the harder stuff for no aftershow shady-ness.

Thanks.

Bye.

They've released a new series of Astro Boy. That's right kiddies, my childhood boyfriend (in my head, at least) is back on television. I loved him so much when I was little. But I'm not loving the new series. It's too high-tech and not cutsie enough for me. And they've changed the theme song which was my favourite part of the whole thing.

Just to prove that you can find anything on the internet, here it is:

Soaring high in the sky,
He may be small but only in size.
AstroBoy, AstroBoy,
He is brave and gentle and wise!

Stronger Than all the rest,
this mighty robot will pass the test,
Oh villans fear him, so we cheer him,
The amazing AstroBoy!

When you need someone strong,
Our robot friend will never be long.
AstroBoy, AstroBoy,
He will try to right any wrong!

When there's danger near by,
No matter who, what, where, when or why.
He'll defend us, he'll defend us,
The amazing AstroBoy!

As should be quite evident, I've been on somewhat of a writing spree over the past day. I suppose two poems doesn't really constitute a "spree", does it? But when I've been mute for so long, it is something.

I'm halfway through my wednesday of study and well into my routine of procrastination. I wish I had something exciting and brand new to report to you but sadly, I don't as yet.

To all my melbourne girlies who are going to see Maroon 5 tonight, have a blast and don't get into too much trouble. I wish I could have made the trip over for this (as per previous mraz roadtrips) but it's just not the right time of year for that. I know you will have fun without me at any rate.

In other news, the mayer concert is coming up in less than a week and wow, yeah, I'm just not overly excited. I suppose I'm not really enticed by huge venues, especially since the last time I saw Mayer the crowd consisted of only a few hundred people (if that). But maybe he will pull a Ben Harper and fill the huge space with something amazing. One can dream.

I've been reminiscing alot lately. Maybe it's because of the impending JM concert. I have met alot of amazing people through him (indirectly, of course) and made some wonderful friends. Some of you are internet homegirls and will read this, others I have met through chance aftershow encounters and formed the most surprising close friendships. Surprising if only because I have been showered with random acts of kindness by people who hardly know me but call me their friend. I love that and am so grateful for my friends all over the globe. You know who you are.

They spent the turnaround
of summer, wrapped up
in the physicality of love,
masking bloodrush and desire
with child's play and
heart-shaped declarations.

The miles, they split
between overreaction and
saccharine niceties, fingers
hastening to locate
numerical salvation and ears
awaiting the homicide
of a dial tone.

But the casualty
was not time, space or sound,
the injured party was not
love, caught in the atmosphere,
travelling at the speed
of light.

The flick of the
executioner's switch and
tumble of the axe
only fell swiftly on
the body of reality

- friends and family
of a past and present now
rendered worthless, once again
sacrificed for the hungry
tongue and grappling
hands of a distant future.

And they made the bed
of so-called love with
the linen of triumph
and conquest, slipped
between the sheets of
egocentricity and carelessness
and rehearsed the misconception
of forever...

I see you,
with your sullen sulk,
peering out beneath
the fringe of
your constructed
maturity -
an elitist tint
and defection
to snobbery.

And I wonder
if you poured yourself
like sand into
these ill-fitting shoes
or simply survived
the winter of insignificance
and self-deprecation

to
blossom
into

the feminine rival
of a doubting Thomas -
questioning the truth
in my chest cavity
and sincerity in
my song.

Happy belated Easter, kiddies. I hope you all had an enjoyable day. Mine was quite fine - lots of eating at my grandma's house. She is italian after all and doesn't know the meaning of "enough". I ate me some chocolate but not as much as I would have liked since I have developed this annoying lactose intolerance thang. It really is a bitch.

This morning I woke up early, intent on doing some study before I go on a picnic (yay for getting out in the sun). But, in true Karen style, I chose to spend some quality time with my guitar instead. I'm getting better and can actually play two songs now (Charlton Hill, Don't Sail & Five for Fighting, Superman) - they have fairly easy chord patterns, hence my ability to play them after only 2 lessons and about a month with the guitar. I have discovered, however, that it is much easier to sing and play guitar than it is to sing and play piano. Just a random observation.

Anyway, I should get going. Enjoy the rest of your 4 day weekend. Until next time, xox.

Another old one (not autobiographical either).

White mesh blowing in the breeze,
wind sweeping you off your feet,
while you look for something
out there that doesn't exist,
that never did.

When you were little
you thought that perfection
was sold in glass jars,
that your mother bought
a dose every thursday evening
amongst the bread, the milk,
the frozen peas.

But now, you know different -
that what she bought only numbed you,
rocked you to sleep, made the shadows
dance in pretty pretty patterns
on the feathers and fairytales,
across the pink pink panels
of your pretty little mind
(your silly little mind).

Now you know
that he's searching,
searching for that same
Brady Bunch Bliss
in the bottom of a bottle.

And you're following in his footsteps,
as all good little girls should...

It's night time and I'm sitting in the dark, reading through some old writings I have collected over the last few years. I found something that I don't think I've shared before (for whatever reason) so I'm going to post it here now. It's from December 2001 - old indeed. But I like it all the same...

makeshift
I'll pull it back
and let it fall
where it may.

It's not so hard
to fathom this -
this life, this love.

You lift me over your
shoulder, like a child,
so I can't sway.

So I can't stray.

And this is all I have,
pressing against your flesh;
sliding down your sides;
scraping a life together
from your cologne drenched skin
and your bourbon lips.

I would touch the sky
if I could, pull it
down onto me,
lick the cerulean blue
and build a cocoon
from the azure glow.

But you want to
keep me here forever,
you want to
grow it back
in this glasshouse,
this leadlight prism.

And you only want to
see me through the
bottom of an hourglass,
to watch my strawberry mouth
and almond eyes
as they were then -
playing, playing
in the ripples of the ocean;
rolling in the fresh
green spears of grass.

But it's slipping away
through cracks and crevices,
it's finding ways
to escape what we
never knew existed.

We've patched up the holes
but we're no match for time
with it's crisp tick-tock
and cacophonous laughter.

In streams it flows, dripping
into oil-stained puddles
and the waves form in rings,
concentric circles of
blues, reds, purples.

It's all nothing, nothing, nothingness
and it's going, going, gone

I haven't been writing for a quite awhile - as would have been blatantly obvious to all of you who choose to read this little journal. And it seems that the lack of words is turning into quite a trend. It's been a good month since anything decent has fallen from my lips. So rather than let this place wither and die (since I believe that the writer's block may be everlasting) I've decided to just try and update it with normal journal stuff - what I did today and all that. I'm not good at daily entries but I will try and write something as often as I can. I'm hoping that the constant writing will even awaken the poet within me again. But one can only dream.

Good Friday has to be the most boring day of the year. I am a (somewhat) good catholic and thus I understand the solemn nature of the day but still.

I have been so busy working and studying over the last month that I'm almost going crazy. And today, I should be sitting here mulling over a super difficult assignment which is to be handed up in a week but the university website which is housing this assignment at the moment is down. That means, no work for me which is very frustrating indeed - not because I reeeeally want to do the work but because I know that it's fucking hard and I really need every minute of the day to work on it.

I'm going to go and practice guitar or play piano or violin or do something creative. This is killing me.