WHITE STUCCO DREAMING PASTICHES:

11_4 and 11_8

Mindless television dreaming
Staring at the vast emptiness in his room
The youngling, unaware of his life
Mindless television dreaming
That black, glossy void
A hole countless others fall into
Also called the television
It's captivating colours capturing his senseless mind
His youth, taken by the demon
Who hides in everyone's room
In the corner, waiting to pounce
on its unsuspecting, naïve victims
Scarring them forever; there hides the figure that is Peppa Pig
barbie girl dreaming

hidden beneath the hollow smiles of candid photos

are skinny expectations and humble bragging
barbie girl dreaming
and size four dresses
blue eyes and golden-blonde hair
called the 'barbie doll'
with fifteen brown eyes desperate to copy
painting over the yellow, black, brown
of a multicultural christian school
mothers fussed with cuteness and picture days
that all young girls admire
grown up too fast with stolen smiles and sucked in stomachs
Humid Singapore Dreaming

scattered in the yellow sunlight of my mind

are faded shards of childhood travels and loud metal
humid Singapore dreaming
and white tiles
with identical yellow hands
marching to a perpetual heartbeat
of city life pumping yellow cells beneath the shiny white exterior
of huge birds insides lit with artificial white light
of European invention
passengers sink into television induced stupor
flying over the skyscrapers of a British colony
built with Asian blood on Asian soil
small city dreaming

blown through the knots and tangles of my hair

is walks with seagulls on blue beaches
small city dreaming
and a hedgehog tower
a splatter of dunes and mangroves
called the ‘big swamp’
with plastic playgrounds of rival kids parties
atop mounds of rusty red dirt
and drive by tourists
rows of manicured lawns and fresh paint
that mask the creatures within
attacked by foreign bankers and a bout of self confidence
8 Towel down overexposed under relentless waves of heat
6 squinting out at an endless horizon
3 washed out dreaming
4 and a panting poodle
5 burrowed under the red-stained SUV
4 hiding from midday sun
7 sweeping wind carries dust across arid planes
6 smothering silence interrupted by the searching bleat
5 of a lost ewe
7 towering bluegums stand as silent sentries
5 wrapped in an eternal embrace
10 ringbarked flesh exposed to air an omen to the inevitable

about life on a farm down south :)

Carpet Stairs Dreaming

In the recent memory from long long ago

Was an energetic version of myself
Carpet stairs dreaming
With a pod of triplets
With white bright light from windows
Booting the iconic sound
With heavy thumping from the higher floor
And the computer blasting the music
Of a children television show
As our pod was close to school
With given education with comfort
Regardless our pod preparing to move away as far as we possibly can
pale summer dreaming

dancing in the sheltered haven of my room

are hidden children and alphabet rhymes
pale summer dreaming
and a bright red pen
a big and angry scribbled cross
she called “disappointing”
with the father standing stoic behind her
looming around the tear-soaked sheet
of a pale child home
swings populated with olive skinned laughs
beheld by the child’s envious eyes
trapped with a stern hand and her scrutinising eyes.
scattered in the cold furnace of my mind
is early childhood and crimson shadow
red autumn dreaming
and the lovely rattan
a red coated wooden dragon
accomplice to master
which scores straight-marker tallies across yellow
canvas embroidered many times before
inside pristine white walls
and a fence of green topiary
that morphs to a maze around the Red sea
when golden, russet, red leaves rush to rocky shore
double sided dreaming

poured into the empty bowl of my mind

is a mixture of two worlds
double sided dreaming
barbecue at 30 degrees
an eastern dish on the side
relaxing in deck chairs
interrogating us feverishly for our odd differences
guilt for a side not embraced
while I stand in shame
a normal middle class home of four
where I flipped the coin
decided to be heads or tails for the following day

Sleeping without dreaming

Shay

Shining a cold white light in my memory

Is a childhood of dulled senses
Sleeping without dreaming
And harsh disinfectant glow
A pale blue and metal bed
Soft as wooden boards
With a dozen scrubs at my call
Rolling through the white washed halls
Of a white washed clinic
For not the first or last time
Faces peer out from beds
Beds like mine and faces only like mine. Where are they?

Asleep without dreaming

While snakes that drained the deafness are inserted into cuts
In my head
Snakes who drank the pressure but who bit when wet
Venom causing great pain
Amid the atmosphere of waking from artificial rest
And soft claxons from the machine
That rang throughout the white room
Setting onlookers’ minds on edge

Ice-cream snowballs like December lies

Beside the blue bed
Wires and tubes taken from my body
That once let scrubs see me
No pool safe for me now
And the plugs that wedged between the narrow walls of the tunnel
Keeping the water from my snakes
until the cycle repeated again
evanescent homely dreaming

the vibrancy of it all slowly pulling away

longing for the innocence once mine
evanescent homely dreaming
days of endless laughter
and garden buckets full of magic
made backyards feel infinite
little hearts racing for most worthy reasons
growing up came with grey realisations
of how precious time becomes
chalk drawings on the street wash away
we can no longer hide
under soft blankets to stop the overwhelming darkness from
creeping in
white cell dreaming

early childhood is a locked vial of anaesthetised memories

of emergency rooms and hospital beds
white cell dreaming
and a hospital-gift-shop teddy bear.
Doctor stuck a bandaid over my mouth
and babbled patronising trivialisation of my body’s medical
failures
never explaining what a Ketoacidosis was
why I was a pincushion
or that die-a-beetles wouldn’t kill me.
instead, I lay sprawled across white sheets, a bleeding
porcupine
unable to resist the agonizing embrace of the Protaphane’s
jaws
whose venom Doctor said would make me better.
Green bushland dreaming

Scattered throughout the happy cold of my mind

Is early childhood and faint memories

Green bushland dreaming

And a burnt tree

An old red and rusty motorbike

Called the 'scarlet lightning'

With all the kangaroos in the back paddock

Zooming through the yellow-green pasture

Of a lonely farming path

Meadows studded with hidden wombat holes

That became deadly car-traps overnight

Covered by the midnight rain and fallen trees

Red brick dreaming

Deserted in the hazy dark of my mind

Is early childhood and foreign humour
Red brick dreaming
And a stout tabby Cat
A silver spoiler-clad hatchback
Stickers sprawl the windows
Their three designers bellowing in the rear
Blasting through the shrub dominated suburbs
Of a tiring folk
Both yards studded with fresh golden dandelions
That became airborne cotton overnight
Strikes with a hand lens on sun-dried newspaper
Lost in the forgotten corners of my mind
Is childish boyhood and full mateship
Christ Church dreaming
And a gold logo
With blue stripes and latin words around
Called the 'school crest'
With deus dux, doctrina lux the words
Blasted fully into the schoolboys minds
Says: "God is our leader
Learning is our light" with full importance
Of the one up above
That we never could be better than, reminded of our insignificance
poured into the fierce river of my mind
ever there, the shadowing clouds follow
other world dreaming
the books torn open all over
the paper never filled
with ink seeping into the fibres
but never spreading through the vast expanse
alone in the sunlit backroom
alone in stuttering heart
that corner of the road we always turn
mind left sitting on the sun cracked footpath
the car better off on dry land
wooden floor dreaming

lost in the forgotten ethers of my mind

in early childhood and new movement
wooden floor dreaming
and a barbie doll
the edge of a soft expanse
unwatched and teasing fate
with the height of two me's below
cracked pale walls and yellow lights
shrink as the floor rows nearer
babies wail studded with now retrospective laughter
father turns and dread sets
lectured by mother who says simply, plainly, oh kevin, not again
shenton park dreaming

hung back behind my old leavers shirt

is childhood shrouded in blue
shenton park dreaming
and a football punts
right over the bronzy fence
we pray the swooping sedans swerve in time
to the church hewn in hallowed red bricks
that numb the minister’s docile flock
to sport-stippled ovals filled by footballers
circled with chanting coaches
but which is the dinkum Australian creed?

Chas Underwood
humid thrifty dreaming
in the middle seat of a thrifty truck
is early childhood and uncomfortable silences
humid thrifty dreaming
and a tricolor cat
a silver, beat up hyundai accent
only my mother and sisters
mum left dad when i was four
it was my fault, still is
should have stayed quiet
yellowed, sunburnt grass and self-built shitbox vehicles
that bring bad memories forward
humid darwin days and cold perth nights, still scared of police
o-bahn river dreaming

hidden in the frozen lake of childhood

are painless secrets and dark waters
o-bahn river dreaming
and a quaint culdesac
a dumped and burnt civic sport
stained the sheltered memories
with somber detectives knocking on the door
scouring through our hidden Terabithia
now just mud and tall grass
an empire that stretched the whole street
ruled by dreams and childhood fantasy
conquered by the slow march of our reality
carved into the laughter lanes of my smile
are stained fingertips and scratched skin
lost time dreaming
and a grown up memory
the discovery of a hidden park
filled with violet dyed berries
which we plucked with bare naked fingers
our cuticles painted with new colours
that hadn’t touched us before
buckets over flowed with our new supplies
that morphed themselves to disappearing pastries
lost time that doesn’t forget the taste and touch