Country Pub Lunch

He stays to smoke and asks my origins
I answer, the hills around Adelaide
"Concrete Jungle" he states
Well no, not so much, in the hills
"still a concrete jungle" his reply
I know he speaks the truth
Ignoring him I read a brochure
some local art gallery
run by an artist who used to be a writer
Me, I'm an artist who thinks in stories

The Warrior

I am tangled up with you
We entrapped each other through mutual need
I only saw what I hoped was there
I discovered more than I wanted
Your callousness, Your bloodlust
removed my desire
I could not be in love with you
Only love you

I watch the warrior
dagger in hand
Like you, he burns with desire to be strong
Driven by his power, the giver of orders
Have the years of war, holding prisoners,
Taken what gives joy?

My heart bleeds for you
I feel tears, my throat is tight
Tenderness and peace
cannot be yours
You who burns himself
so he can't think or feel

Lay down your weapons
Set yourself free.
You don't sleep
"Sleep is for the dead"
But the dead can't dream.