a sense of sentience

Three irreconcilable pieces.

I’ve spent a lifetime being who I’m not,
yet my stigmata cannot be disguised—
nervous mannerisms, and
a dash of desperation in the eyes.

Whispered answers apologise
with extraneous explanations.
Soliloquies devised and never spoken,
with imperfect strangers
are forever
in the future.

The sedatives did not reply,
they fell and rolled, skittered
beneath the dresser, unreachable.

colorless sunrise

Their gods are distant, inaccessible,
and the pale eastern light brings no relief.

What are their dreams? Are there fins or feathers,
wings or words, spoken in some foreign tongue
that once was theirs? Do their personal voids
invade their sleepless nights?

Those whose desires are uncluttered,
who merely seek sincere appreciation,
the discounted and discarded,
whose needs are inarticulate,
who don’t know who to mimic
in a world of monkey fakery,
who deserve the weather,
who deserve better,
who deserve to live.

universal sunset

A fortune to be made, the spam advises—
the weather bought and sold on virtual markets.
For Perth, where thermometers are catching fire,
polar snowstorms delivered by Amazon.

When the West’s as desolate
as the Centre, the sympathetic
static and the barefaced lies
will bring no comfort.

The flames of greed
will be fanned
by desperation,
and future life,
the light to be,
will not hold a candle.


Climate change: never-seen-before temperatures in Perth.


Sunday’s Truth evolved by the visual evo engine, my software that seeks unimagined realms.

17 thoughts on “a sense of sentience

    • Thank you, Nikita. Somewhere in my mind, probably buried, there’s a connection between the poems. I find it hard to hold out hope for the world, although I try. It’s not that there won’t be survivors, but not the ones who matter, who humanity needs to be human. More darkness, oh well. 😐

    • Thank you, glad you like. Some Aus media tends to downplay climate change. The east (where I am) was burning everywhere a few years ago, but now it seems to be almost forgotten. Unfortunately, climate change hasn’t forgotten us.

      PS: although I find it hard to be optimistic, your lovely artwork helps.

  1. Brilliant writing as always. My favourite bit (as it spoke to me quite a lot) is:
    “The sedatives did not reply,
    they fell and rolled, skittered
    beneath the dresser, unreachable.”

    • Thank you. 🙏 I like your words and images as well. I was taught to write from the heart. I try to avoid it, but sometimes a bit of truth sneaks out.😸

  2. A beautifully bleak piece, Steve.

    The stanza about dreams calls to mind the book Do Androids Dream of Electric Sleep? I’ve never read it, but your poem has reminded me to put it on my to-read list.

    The idea of “solar snowstorms delivered by Amazon” is not at all far-fetched, given that there’s an indoor ski slope in Dubai!

    I also find it difficult to hold out hope for the world.

    • Thanks, Magarisa. Fantastic story, I’m a PKD fan, not unexpectedly. It became the wonderful movie Bladerunner with memorable lines that I’ve used in various places.

      Wow, kind of ironic, let’s destroy the world faster by making it cold to amuse the wealthy.

      Unfortunately I haven’t been able to keep up with WP, and I’m going to have to go back to posting once a month. I blame reality.

  3. The second section conveys a deep wish to leave a better world for the youngest and the most innocent. The first and third sections however, seem to surround the second one in a seemingly inescapable vise of desperate helplessness. As always, love your work.

    • Thank you. My personal mood oscillates, but yes, I think the world as we knew it is disappearing, and as always, the poor and the disenfranchised will pay the price.

    • I apologise for the late reply, I don’t get to my site very often. Yes it’s real, but I’m afraid humanity is not doing what is necessary to even slow it significantly.

Leave a Reply