Round Earth Policy

One thing I like about the world is that it's round, and I wish that
more people could take the journey around to come back upon themselves.

Paper Caper

Paper Caper

Paper is a caper, but with pen, a friend. I write for the right to say
what's right on my mind. Without the write, I'm not blind, from the
side I'm just fine. Flow, like sweat from my brow, and I wonder if I'm
frown. Davis on the mic, hot sweaty and smooth, like butter on corn
eaten down at noon. Moon you say, in the sky last night? No clouds, no
rain, until I hit the bed. Pillow so soft, on the cradle of the land,
let's my hand flow with words, "Woodford" you say. Economical. Great.
Greed. Lean. Fatty, like liver after too many reds. Reds, like dreads,
like an inside joke - shared to be funny with funny Woodford folk.
Ford, like Henry, drives me here, field with tent, otherwise middle of
nowhere. That's what makes me write on this day, on a brown paper bag
with little filter, and little lag. Paper now low, and verbs almost
spent. But sweat still rolls, like the wheels of descent. All that,
and a bag of chips, and a little happieness - the tension between
epxectations and place, give away the race.

@ Woodford, 29 December 2009

Space

Space

Space. Three dimensions in front of all. Maybe more? Animated by time.
Positions move, and swap, and change. Yet also it's a void, but not
one to avoid, but one to explore. The universe is creativity, and yet
I fall back on old lines, along old lines of descent and ascent. Lines
that are truly curved by the gravity of the situation, and the time it
takes to size it all up. Space - when will we all get there? Yet what
would we do without it?

@ Woodford, 29 December 2009

Edge

Sydney, 1943, Labrador, 1954

Sydney, 1943
Labrador, 1954

Her hair shawn like a ladies should. But not like a lady out for
dinner with a suitor from overseas, though this lady would be a fine
candidate for that too. But thee says her hair took to shining upnder
a hat of duty to empire and country. It did sneak out from time to
time, but those moments, befitting of the time, were kept more
private, or at least closed, and smober in nature. There was a
definite sense that things with the lady were on the right track, but
with so many miles left to travel, best not to test the fortunes of war.

Half a world away he lay in the soft moss, overlooking one of the more
rugged coastlines yet seen by man. But this was his place, and a fine
place for a man and his dog. At least in the too short summer months,
with their too long summe'rs days. The only thing lackin from this
place for a man of ambition was someone, anyone, to share it with. A
few years earlier, before their decline, the Germans had paid a visit
here. Some of the men from the village had seen them. One even claimed
to have had a shot from half a mile away, but in the telling of his
story, usually over a few pints, left plenty to doubt. But still, this
place was as rugged and as strong as the features chisled into the
faces of the people that lived in this place. Both the land and the
faces worn down by the salt water and the salt air, and the deep
winters of inhuman proportions.

---
George Dyke

We Touched the Sky

We came but yesterday, nine weeks hence,
With ne'ery a bond, and many a fence.
The woods say Robert Frost my friend,
Are deep and dark, with many a bend.

And had I met you there last June,
I might have passed you just as soon.
Yet in this place, we spent sweet time,
Striving, reaching, to make rhythm from rhyme.

We came to do, we came to dream,
We came to plot, we came to scheme.
We leave this now, the vibe, the buzz,
We leave this space suit where it was.

Yet from this day, we wear it proud,
A suit of stars, sky, with no cloud.
We wear this place, upon our sleeve,
The dreams aren't done, what will we weave?

Not just visions, but friendships more,
We take away bonds, not just a score.
We take them home, and on the road,
They carry us far, lighten our load.

Its in those bonds, the magic lives,
No powder so strong, to match all they give.
Your ideas, for all to share,
My hopes rise up, to watch you dare.

When will I see you next my friends,
As we scatter the globe, far, and to the ends.
The answer's soft and sweet to touch,
'cause I will see you very much.

Every day, when I feel weary,
Head filled up, with numbers and theory.
I'll close my eyes, and remember why,
Remember those weeks we touched the sky.

The CDC - July '09

July 09

Lay Me Down

Lay Me Down

Lay me down on mamas wears
Sleep me now a childs cares
Sell me under to grow me up
Wonder wonder time disrupt

Wake me wake me
Sand and sea
Bring me up to let me be
Once was lost and now have found
Grow me from this sacred ground

Times now come for life's long work
Child hood days a naplike dream
Mamas old her elbows stiff
And now I see what made her miff

Young love comes and moto along
One night dance to sacred song
Copy to copy, life to life
Partner in hand for me be wife

Dreams may come of travels far
Still no distance behind my car
One day comes the end of dreams
Life is the living, so it seems

But days spent napping on mamas wears
Days spent with love and few big cares
Memories sweet like home grown land
Memories smile back, and hold my hand

Press for Appreciation!

Blank

How do you start, with a blank canvas? Nothing written, and nothing
to write. Just blank and lines, and white and white. And yet we use
analogies, like canvas and white – as if that's the case in this age
of digital ASCII. We can create as quickly as we can delete, write as
though the pen and ink were no limit – because they're not.

And all that is left is to choose your subject. Choose your
subjects. Then choose your verbs. Then mix them up, and show off
your power to observe. Letters are free, no cost to put them down.
And so many can read the words you write, with scarcely an effort to
put publication to the electronic paper of the age.

The elements of language; noun acts on noun to accomplish objective.
The language of objectives; our fastest route to passion and emotion.
And yet how to pin down objectives when there is so restriction on
writing and the language used.

Photos

Excess

Lift You Up

Lift You Up

What I'd like to do
Is lift you up
Not let you down.
What I'd like to do
Is walk with you
Not meet you on the other side.

I'd like sometimes
If you'd carry me too
Run for me, see me through.
I'd like sometimes
To feel you strong
And feel me lifted, carried along.

But most of all
I'd like that we
Are there when needed most.
I'd like to see
That you and me
Can see the world as one.

Magic Glebe Laneway Pagoda

A380!

In the frame

In the frame

When I look out, into the frame
Back into the frame to the past
And forward, out of the frame into the future
I see many colours, shapes
And I hear the sounds
But mostly, what I see is you

You and your smile
And a yellow and orange moasic
Of all that is to come
From all that has been

This Night

This Night

This night we meet, briefly, and only to go in different directions
You come to make yourself feel better
And so do I

But also, I come to know however briefly what dreams may have come
I can't stay
But I am here
You can't stay, but you will

What may come in the after life I will know sooner then you
I will not take you with me, fore I will take no one with me
But you will keep me alive in your memory
Until you too follow

This is the natural course of things
And yet it is so mug faster then you would hope
Weakness
Not in death, but in the ability to continue on

Tonight we have both come to feel more human
Tonight you will go your way, and I will go mine
Like so many travellers
At a crossroads

---
George Dyke