Saturday, September 28, 2013. All the gold and riches Daddy made,. Have done to me, more harm than good. The calling of a dollar, I eagerly obeyed,. But happiness was something, I never understood. Oh how I loved the lime light, and the company of rich folks,. I, the prodigal son, who played so well, the part of clown. I kept them all in stitches, plied with drink and smoke,. As I led my jolly caravan, all about the town. Fast cars and faster women, were at my beckoned call,.

I created this space is especially for the personal blogs and websites of poets, writers, musicians and artists - mostly Australian but some international. Sunday, July 23, 2006. The Artistry of Margaret Askew.

We uphold the absurd truth. We strengthen our body through exercise. We value the ritual of creation, and we respect self-expression. There is no gain, we suffer and love. Full of meaning, of nothing. Baked mundane by wonder, momentary joy. Life is on poetry support.

Thursday, September 15, 2011. Paul Gauguin, January - February 1903. Take me to the graying place that fills the hole. And light, she enters but could never shine as bright as. Lead that poisons in your throat. And lives within the paint of your sky. Cry the tears, which never seem to fall. But I instead see your voice.