Two. Stream of Consciousness

Two. Stream of Consciousness

Lights, ambient. Such ambience. Escapism at its finest. Slowly, gently. Peace flow through.

Freely….ever freely. Wandering, wonder what wonders way weightless ahead.

Blink. Blink. Brutal battles brace bravely beyond.

Caught, countess, calmly clings. Claw, clawing coward.

Rivers rapidly rally repeatedly ruthless.

Fear, finding, failure frightful fellow.

Strength strides selflessly. Stronger shall she shine.

Smiling.

Nights Grief-Archive #3 Oct. 2015

Nights Grief-Archive #3 Oct. 2015

It’s nights like this that get to you. Striking you down beneath the midnight blanket. As you lie awake. Thoughts. Memories of that one person whom lit your world with happiness, love and care (Mum) is no longer dancing beside you, but now above you upon the clouds in life’s song.

Since you can no longer sit side by side, talking to one another about everything. There is no more present moment between the both of you where you can exchange a hug, a kiss upon the cheek. Or the simple exchange of ‘I love you,’ Its all now just scenes automatically set on rewind and playback. For that is the only way to feel anything close to sharing the present moment with them.

As you toss and turn attempting to get a nights sleep. The conclusion hits you. You wont see them. Hear them. Feel them again until you dance together again upon the clouds.  Shock. Anger. Denial. Sadness fills you. Tears struggle to escape your eyes. For already so many have been shed. You want to scream in frustration. But don’t. For the world is sleeping. So you keep in.

Over time people you are close to their true colours  reveal themselves. They slowly cut conversations shorter and shorter with you, until you no longer hear a word from them. They think you don’t notice their silence. But you do. You begin to think your grief is a disease to which people fear to go near you or talk to you. Because the reality is to unbearable for them. They would rather keep in their bubbles, sew their  mouths shut, than ask you how you are. Oh well you’ve come accustomed to it. Grief is a lonely, isolating journey.

You find solace in the only way you know how, reflecting with watery eyes on all the photographs that tell so many  stories of what you shared with the one you lost and love. You continue to rewind and playback all that was with them over and over and over again until you finally get some sleep and hope that you just might reunite with them in your dreams. Even if it’s only for a short time.

.

Melbourne’s Ghost…..

Melbourne’s Ghost…..

I live in Melbourne, Victoria and I think I speak for the whole of Victoria.

From late 2019 till the current times of 2020 these times have been extremely hard for us all.

2020 ‘welcomed’ us with quite literally fire and brimstone. Smoke canvassed our skies for months.

Worry and concern plagued us for the safety of our firies. Our rural Victorians, their accompanying wildlife and our livestock.

Instead of morning alarms, for months we rang in the morning with Vic Emergency updates from our fire chiefs and our Premier.

Contact to outer Victoria was scarce.

Towns affected by the fires, their phone lines and electricity was gone for weeks.

Instead of friendly phone notifications from our friends and family, our phones pinged and dinged with the messages that another fire was out of control.

As time burned on. Acres got lost. Damage increasing 10fold.

Our hope was fading as clouds of smoke covered our horizons both literally and figuratively.

Once the fires were finally extinguished. Just before Autumn I may add.We continued to hold charity events, benefits anything that could send money to the townships and wildlife destroyed by this devastation.

Melbourne, Victoria as a whole was begining to gain our spirits back.

Joy started to fill our lives again. The air was clear. Our rural nature, the essence and beauty of what makes Victoria Victoria was finally recovering.

Remember….

We are descendants of Bush Rangers. We are strong. We can get through anything. We will be triumph through our struggles…..

Well…..

so we thought….

Mid March came along and along with it came covid.

With just over a months rest. We Victorians and along side us our Premier had to pull our bootstraps up once again.

Instead of alarms, Victoria welcomed the days ahead with death total. Case totals. A variety of different numbers and so fourth from the Premier.

Hope was deminishing once again. We had already been through so much in such little time.

We couldn’t see family, friends. Meet under ‘The Clocks’ do the things that make Melbourne. Melbourne. We were now the shell of once being the No.1 most liveable City in the world. Seven years running.

Most of us stuck to the rules. Staying in. Not seeing anyone outside our household.

Numbers started greatly decreasing.

Some restrictions were lifted.

Five people could visit one household.

Then 10 people could visit a household.

We were getting though this.

Remember….

We are descendants of Bush Rangers. We are strong. We can get through anything. We will be triumph through our struggles. We got this.

Or so we thought….

A month or so had passed.

Stage 3 was shorted lived. Numbers weren’t moving.

Then the numbers and stats were ambushing us.

Stage 4 was quickly put in place.

Yet again the days were ‘welcomed’ by numbers and stats.

All Melbourne checking their phones for the notification ping of ‘The Premier is now live.’

When the Premier would finish discussing the latest updates and changes to Victoria as a whole.

Some Jurnos asked questions that would actually help Victoria feel reassured and informed. Other Jurnos on the other hand would repeat and recite questions on a political stance. To stir the waters in the political atmosphere. Not helping the current situation at all.

A witch hunt towards Melbourne began….

So many people and Media all over Australia were also repeating and reciting negativity towards Melbourne and Victoria as a whole.

Our spirits had already been crushed , damaged and pierced since the end of 2019.

To have most of Australia against us. Causing more grief and anxiety to us Victorians. Wasn’t helping the current situation either.

Why turn on your own family?

I ask.

We are one. We are many.

But now it seems more like Most of Australia is one…and Melbourne, Victoria is not. Anymore.

Melbourne, Victoria. We had been through the ringer so many time in such a short period of time. Spirits crushed.

I will admit some people screwed up. Others did not.

Please think of us….

Fires prevented us from seeing our loved ones for months. Then Lock down continues to prevent us from seeing Family, Friends and ‘Meeting Under the Clocks’.

Each days that goes on in Lock down. We are alone. We are even more alone when most of Australia hates us.

As the ghost of Melbourne essences vapours on through the empty streets and cobbled stone lane-ways…..

We can only hope that things will get better.

Remember…..

Melbourne’s. We will come out stronger than before.

We are descendants of Bush Rangers. We are strong. We can get through anything. We will be triumph through our struggles. We got this.

Coffee in hand we will march through this. Together. As Melbournians.

One. Stream of Consciousness.

One. Stream of Consciousness.

Electric Blanket, dona heavy, Traffic passing, sleepy street.

Slightly bloated, shoulder hurting.

Winter. Night. Cold.

Work in Morning.

Shallow breathing. Asthma sucks.

World still turning.

Life on pause.

Train, echoing throughout.

Brisk air?

What dreams shall come tonight.

Remember.

Spray Melatonin.

Beside cluttered.

Nightly chaos.

Try to be tidy.

I am happy.

Also sad.

Always in back of head-

Missing  my parents. RIP.

Shit this got sad.

Cotton Candy-

Melts in the mouth.

Carnnie games-

What a rip.

Feel like reading-

To which I will do.

Thankful. Night-

Is the moon bright?