Revolving door

The concept of the career crim, is still alive and kicking. 


A mate went home today 

They call him The Levitator 

Andf my name being what it is 

They call me The Navigator 

The ‘Gator’ and the ‘Tator’ 

He’s a metal head 

And I’m a punk 

So we can agree 

On loud guitars 

And pounding drums 

A career crim  

He’s done hard time 

In and out for years 

But he says this time 

Will be different 

I ask him where 

He sees himself in five years 

And now he’s talking  

About jobs and saving 

For a decent car 

For a decent life 


So wish him luck 

He’s better than this place 

A son unique 

And an experiment 

In brain washing convicts 

In to going straight  

And making a better life

The Levitator was in and out a few times during my stay, probably one of the best mates I made on the inside. I’m not really sure why but I always felt compelled to instill some drive towards a better life than in and out of jail, especially in friends. He’s probably back in jail right now but maybe in time will find a better path. 

The recidivism rate in Australia is probably better than many countries but I’ve seen many repeat offenders throwing their lives away. I feel that I did my part to help the situation in a few inmates but the responsibly really ends with the government and jail management. 

The concept of the career crim, is still alive and kicking.  

Never Give Up

Give thanks for that little crumb of happiness.


Acquiesce to the rapturous nature  

Of freedom from jail 

Of freedom from failure 

As life improves every day 

As I gather pace  

Ine the modern rat race 

Let positivity prevail 

Let life unwind  

In the best possible way 

Let life be kind 

A mountain of work 

Toil that’s welcome 

For the ripe reward  

That soon enough beckons 

Too much of everything 

Making my heart sing 

Myriad possibilities 

All better than 

Any given day 

In the local town pen 

The funhouse behind me  

I see what’s ahead of me 

A plethora of pathways  

A symphony of the best of me 

So welcome each new day 

With gratitude and energy 

Welcome each new face 

As a potential 






Or partner in crime 

Welcome creativity  

Hope that it flows 

So my story  

The whole world knows 

Acquiesce to the rapturous nature  

Of life on earth 

And you’ll never fail 

If you never give up 


To be honest I’m having a little writers block, I put it down to a level of content in my life that has stifled my creativity… And possibly that I’ve run out of wine. No art without pain, for me at least, so what else is there but to give thanks for that little crumb of happiness that would be disappointing for most but for me is truly beautiful. 

I’m still mining the work I did in jail and will post some more of them whilst I wait for fresh inspiration. 

The Lucky Country

 It could have been so much worse. 


When I read and watch 

Stories about American jails 

I realize I am truly blessed 

There’s 2.3 million souls 

Mostly doing it tougher than me 

And that’s  not taking into account 

Prisons in third world countries 

But in AMC 

In the minimum-security cottages 

In a single man cell 

With a supportive family 

And the reputation that comes 

From a brutal crime 

I’ve got it better than most 

In prison at least 

I even have a job 

In the jail kitchen 

A radio, a guitar 

And the only jail in Australia 

That allows smoking 

And emails on the prison PC’s 

As if I wasn’t lucky enough 

To get just 6 years 

There’s a tennis court, a gym, a vegie garden 

And all the time in the world  

To work on improving yourself 

Make no mistake 

Australia is the lucky country 

And I’m the luckiest man 

In this whole damn town 

The quality of life in Australian prisons is probably up there with some of the best in the world with the exception of possibly some Scandinavian countries. 

The AMC is a fairly new jail, the alternative if I had broken the law 7 years earlier would be Goulburn jail, a place that breeds horror stories and dramas and carries a very real threat of getting stood over, stabbed or bullied.  

AMC is far from perfect but I’m fully conscience that it could have been so much worse. 

Black Misery

Sadly, this is true.


For a brief time 

When my sanity was slipping 

I thought that 

Maybe, just maybe 

I had actually died 

On the highway that night 

And what I was experiencing  

Was hell 

As my life got worse and worse 

As I lost my mind 

And everything became 

Cold terror, black misery and death 

As I found myself 

Completely insane 

Facing life 

In the prison psych ward 

I thought it made sense 

Now better in mind 

And cruising towards 

The end of a shorter jail term 

Than you would expect 

I feel like 

I’ve suffered enough 

And have earned a little respite 

Hell is a place on earth 

And I am blessed to have escaped it 

With hope for the future  

And my heart in one piece

I still have a huge amount of stuff I wrote while incarcerated that I haven’t published.  I thought I’d share a little of it while I wait for inspiration to strike for new material. 

Sadly, this is true, I honestly thought that maybe hell is less fire and brimstone and more the worst possible life circumstances. I was in a seriously bad way for a long time and feel incredibly blessed to have recovered to a point that I would tentatively say I’m doing well in life.  


I want her to be happy above all else. 


Let’s have a moment of clarity 

Let’s see what we need to see 

The truth is my dear 

That you are right not to love me 

I’m unlovable 

A you remain 

A light too bright 

For my soul to bear 

If only you had  

A kind word for me 

It would heal a thousand cuts 

And give life fresh meaning 

But I keep my distance 

Lest my demons hurt you 

Who is so pure and undeserving 

Of the misery that permeates 

More lives than not 

I only hope and prey 

That I misread your sadness 

That’s it’s just an aesthetic 

You find appealing 

And not in part the result 

Of my own epic failures 

I can bare the hurt  

Of love lost 

But knowing your sadness 

Might  be in some small amount 

My own fault 

Is too much for my troubled soul 

Find joy 

Find love 

Find meaning 

Find contentment 

And please, please, please 

Be happy in this world 


I still have the woman I loved for 15 years on Instagram, she’s an artist and her work seems to be filled with melancholia. I honestly hope I’m misreading it and in truth have to avoid looking at her posts as they have a terrible effect on my usually good mood. 

I want her to be happy above all else and I know deep down she’s better off without me but I wish I could cure her sadness. 

A Life Worth Living

The past shapes the future.


The fountain of youth is just 

The plethora of possibility 

Found in the past 

Happy memories as a child 

Are a spring that flows forever 

Of self-belief  

And faith in the world 

That we can find our way home 

Sometimes it feels like all is lost 

Cold terror, black misery and death 

But the past reminds us 

That life can be beautiful 

If only we play our cards right 

So put down the remote 

Remember your youth  

Get busy living or get busy dying 

And pray for, hope and help those 

Who never had a happy childhood 

Remind them 

That life isn’t all bad 

The past will always be 

So drink deep from the fountain of youth 

May it guide you 

To a better future 

And a life  

Truly worth living 

I wrote this one as a submission to a poetry anthology with the topic “The Fountain Of Youth”.  

Evidently it wasn’t the sort of thing they were after so I publish here on the blog. 

I truly believe in the power of filling young peoples lives with as much positivity as possible so that they can maintain faith in humanity and themselves when the going inevitably gets tough in adult life. 

The past shapes the future.

The Warrior

I hope I can find the warrior spirit within me. 


The rugged warrior 

Shoulders his blade 

And walks into new realms of mystery 

The future uncertain 

He carries the weight of the world 

On his massive frame 

Few have seen such horrors as he 

His pain locked in a box 

He buries his past and rises above 

He seeks not violence 

But the safety of home 

A long distant and fading memory 

Of peace and possibility 

But first he must climb 

The Everest that is his path 

A self-inflicted struggle 

To become more than he once was 

And to fulfill the prophecy of his birth 

To bring light to all he touches 

His scars tell a thousand stories 

And it’s true 

They will write stories about him 

With good and evil 

Black and white 

And all the shades in between 

He seeks meaning above all else 

He’s tried everything once 

Kissed the devil and 

Never lost sight 

Of the beauty on offer 

In unexpected places 

There are still battles to fight 

Demons to face 

Hardwork to be done 

And new challenges 

As yet undiscovered 

He shoulders his blade and his burden 

And drifts off 

In to memory of fight 

Pride, passion and patience 

Greets the new day with hope 

And walks ever onwards 

Into the great unknown 

This poem Is a little nod to the fact I am deep down a fantasy nerd.  

I wrote a book in jail about jail and to avoid the guards confiscating it I wrote ‘Orcs and Goblins’ on the front page so they would think I was writing a fantasy epic rather than a warts and all account of life behind bars. 

The idea of a stoic warrior is source of inspiration and is a metaphorical version of the human that I would like to be. 

I hope I can find the warrior spirit within me as I face all the new trials life throws my way. 

New wave

Sometimes these things come effortlessly.


Everything is ready to launch

What I crave

Is a purpose for my journey

I’m looking for a new wave

Something like:

The early days of punk rock

The San Fran love generation

Soldiers marching off to war

Or cultural movement

Like occupy wall street

And I know

That somewhere in the suburbs of Canberra

There’s a certain kind of alchemy

A new sound or a new attitude

Brewing like my peers

In our golden teenage years

Pull back the covers

On this public service city

And there’s a dozen poets

Playwrights and musicians

Actors, writers, philosophers and dancers

Somewhere in this city

Something new and unique is happening

And I would love to find it

Like striking gold

Or a diamond in the rough

New waves are forming

And I hope I am lucky enough

To be part of something good

In my teenage years I was part of the Canberra punk/hardcore music scene and it was a wealth of creativity and culture that I’m extremely grateful for. I would dearly love to be part of something like that again, not necessarily music but any cultural movement with that kind of unique energy.

Sometimes these things come effortlessly and sometimes they’re hard to find.

I am looking for a new wave.

The Beast!

Excuse me I have to feed the beast. 


The beasts voice resonates 

Through this underground chamber 

Asking to feed  

On the blood that is 

My pain 

My soul 

Consuming all that is good 

And real and pure 

In the service of  

A lust for power 

That protects and endangers 

In equal measure 

The beast does it all 

For respect 

For prestige 

For survival 

And to live  

The life less ordinary 

Escaping mediocrity 

At every turn 

A truly terrifying creature 

It is the minotaur 

But I am the matador 

Fearless and free 

From the talons of the beast 

Feed me it cries 

And we heed the call 

Poor fuel on the fire 

Of paradise lost 

Forever and to eternity 

May the tides of luck 

Keep us safe 

As we navigate through the beast’s wrath 

Feed me the beast calls 

And I answer in kind 

With this one I’m endeavoring to write something a little different from the norm. It is partly inspired by an old animated show called Trap Door and partly about the deeper side of my crime and life before jail. 

Now excuse me I have to feed the beast. 

The Trapdoor – Breakfast Time – Bing video 

The Way the Wind Blows

The one thing missing is something that can’t be forced.


Now that I know

The way the wind blows

I can forgive myself

Put shame on the shelf

Move forward with pride

Healed on the inside

Because I find

That a troubled mind

Is in no way rare

And that love can repair

Almost all wounds

So, coming soon

Is a future bright

Full of laughter and light

The pain of the past

Fading fast

Now the world is green

As I look for my queen

The kingdom we build

With potential fulfilled

With make the world jealous

Small town famous

For all the right reasons

A beauty for all seasons

But make no mistake

Life is fragile as fate

It could all wash away

With the whim of the fey

And love is not enough

To heal wounds so rough

I need to be

The best version of me

Kick goals in my world

With my sails unfurled

Show all that had faith

That it wasn’t a waste

And be a champion of men

Like I once was again

Perpetuate excellence

Radiate brilliance

Climb the Everest

Take heart and never rest

The fight beckons

So I choose my weapon

And go down swinging

‘Til kingdom come

I don’t write a lot of rhyming stuff, but I thought I’d try something different and try not to stagnate. The themes are much the same and there’s even a nautical reference so I’m going to endeavor try write some stuff a little different in future.

I’ve accomplished a lot of my goals since I got released, I got the car, the job, the place of my own, and have started studying.

The one thing missing is something that can’t be forced and that is a woman to love and to hold.

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