A Place to Breathe

My, what a lovely place you have, you must be very proud
I love your modern furniture and the space that you’ve allowed
the kitchen is so stylish, are these appliances new?
I’d love one of those in our place, I bet it cost a few

The Lifestyle you Ordered

The lifestyle you ordered is currently out of stock
our warehouse has been stripped of supplies
our people are working around the clock
to ensure you get your hands on the prize

I Remembered Yesterday

I remembered yesterday the times that I have with you
And visions of the grateful days and all that I have wished for you
I’d stand out in the wind and cold and meet you in the rain
and offer no patronising words to beat us up or take away our pain

A Day in the Town

There’s a ghost selling memories down by the shore
as a jury decides its fate
there’s a man of religion knocking at my door
I need to lie down, he can wait.

"It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see."

– Henry David Thoreau

For those who do not feel the need to make sense of the world, it serves them well. For others, the poets, the writers, the artists, they tell their stories in an attempt to make some sense of the world they live in, if only for themselves. This, in small part, explains how art is born.

Find a quiet dark spot and listen to Beethoven’s 14th, the Moonlight Sonata, Dylan’s A Hard Rain’s a Gonna Fall, or, if ever you’re in Madrid, take a trip to the Museo Reina Sofia and look at Picasso’s Guernica, or pick up a copy of Camus’ The Stranger or Hans Fallada’s The Drinker, or any poem by Les Murray, to get an idea. They were all composed as the artist was attempting to make sense of the world.

The writer may have come to their craft because they’ve realised that, at heart, they are outsiders, their immediate world is alien to them and they therefore need a method of expressing that alienation. Other endeavours act merely as weigh stations until the realisation hits, too late, that the time has come for them to try and talk themselves out of it.

For although everyone has a story to tell, not everyone has the facility. Sometimes it’s given to others, knowing that the stories must be told, because we need them, subconsciously we know we need them, to sustain us.

What is certain is that while some are busy making the most of the world, there are others trying to make sense of it. What is also certain is that the talent being applied to this effort can overcome almost anything, even encouragement.

Journies Worth Taking

Lost

When we are young our spirit is to make our own way, to turn our backs on whatever it is that society entreats of us, to collectively thumb our nose and to carry rebellion as a badge of honour, or at least is was back in the day.

The Greek word for Sadness

The doctor had called about some news he needed to discuss with her, it was better if she came in he said, better that the news be delivered face to face. A cold shiver went down her spine, she didn’t have the courage to ask for a straight answer...

The Patient’s Wife

It commanded my attention searing its way through my chest, its steady rhythm building to an ominous crescendo, the reverberation ricocheting between my ears as it clutched my throat in a vice like grip.

Poems Worth Penning

A Day in the Town

There's a ghost selling memories down by the shore as a jury decides its fate there’s a man of religion knocking at my door I need to lie down, he can wait.
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My Own Best Friend

Stooping down and listless still the rain, the pavement scarried the men they took my food and oil and all that I had carried
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I Found You

Princes priests and diplomats are trying to explain The times that we are living in the rumbling in my brain
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Stories Worth Telling

King & Webber

Webber and King were walking towards the one cafe on the main road of Grey’s River, it offered what appeared to be the best chance of a decent breakfast.
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Lulu

Lulu sat on the edge of her bed and contemplated it, before she started slashing. And so the violence began, controlled violence though it was, down the arms, across the chest, down the back of legs; none of it designed to inflict real damage but enough to draw attention to the inalienable fact that Lulu wanted someone to listen to her.
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Theodore Claw

What was meant to be an evening of conviviality amongst friends and acquaintances amidst the deep furnishings, large squashy cushions, paintings and dark woollen wall hangings from Turkey in the living room lined by book shelves containing manuscripts and novels, texts and biographies of those who pleaded to have their stories told...
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Guess I'm Doing Fine

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

Songs Worth Singing

Great Australian Dream

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

Wisdom Cries in the Street

by Stephen Newman | The Lifestyle You Ordered

Places Worth Visiting

Post Earthquake Art Therapy

Kailash is an artist. When you are introduced to him he will say “hello, my name is Kailash, I am an artist.” You are left in no doubt. An artist he most certainly is, in demeanour, in the passion with which he talks about teaching others, creating works that speak to people and about letting the world know that Art can help change it.
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Bungamati & Shanku (Nepal)

A medievil village popular with tourists flattened by the April 2015 earthquake. The first thing that springs to mind when one sees devastation like this is how hopeless the task of rebuilding appears to be. It’s not just the homes and the temples, it’s the lives, particularly in light of the knowledge that there is no one to help, no insurance and a mere token of government assistance. It’s left to those around you, your neighbours, your relatives, your village folk. In other words, your community.
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Jay Nepal

Jay Nepal, which means “Victory Nepal”, is a motley arrangement of Nepalis and foreign backpackers who have banded together to help rebuild, or more correctly, in the first instance anyway, demolish Nepal.
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