My heart a stretched out rubber band

here is hopes lying in my hand

tattered, unruly yet with iron will

If only love’s gained by lying still.


Your voice echoes to me – the song is whole

ripples and chilled breeze till the soul

I turn in terror, with fear i’ll find

chips and splatters of the mind.


A new way opens – certainty and trust

spirit doors close slam, car door rust

spurred black boots find the floor

and nothing compares – to that roar



War Torn Hearts

I look up again – you are still there.

The fog has cleared yet the ache in my heart is still there,

I look down, feel for signs of life – yes, it is still beating …

once more I crawl to the edge, kicking loose debris


the water invites – many leagues below.

Solid as concrete shifting in wind driven sheets I gulp air,

can this keep on, if so for how long; my love? How I crave and long

for the warmth of the sun and that salty sea


without so much as a thought I hurl myself

again to a place I do not understand, have not been – nor remember

reaching for something to hold, arrest – something solid …

that place I know we can share.


I look up again – thank goodness – you are still there.


Slow road to the Mountains

Shooting down the road, heading to bends and curves
Home and street lamps blur, early half lights merge
Wheels just leave the ground – it gently falls away
You’re heading to the mountains… slowly
(boy…. you’d better pray)

– Yellow flower spots –

– climbing, adrenaline blots –

– visual lighting dots –

– catching, in beer pots –

Up and over, through; and through emotion clouds
There! You see your reflection – a dropping kamaki?
Parks and buildings swirl, as you slowly rise
The slow road to the mountains … taking
(All that’s in the skies)



Hurricane Jane (Song – “heavy & fast”, short & sweet | copy right!!)

Monday’s like a meteorite, smashing its way through rain,
Fridays I’m looking for landmass – like a hurricane.
Weekdays something just ain’t right, dizzying to the brain,
Fridays I’m looking for trouble – like a hurricane.
Mirrors led & Masonite; cauterise n’ take the blame –
Fridays I’m looking a beat up – like a hurricane.
Sometimes I feel the bullet, always I’ll look again,
Fridays I’m looking for trouble – like a hurricane…
….Hurricane Jane. (Chorus or band chant echoes!!)
(Guitar Solo)

Mondays… Tuesdays… Wednesdays… Thursdays… Fridays…
Hurricane Jane

(more guitar)