It’s been a long time coming, eight years actually since I first had the idea, but I have finally gotten around to putting together a collection of my poetry. It feels so good to see it all laid out in some proper book form.

What you’ll find inside is 124 pages of wordy goodness. It travels the spectrum from light and humorous to stark and sombre, with late-night stops at many an emotional roadhouse in between. Collected from fourteen years worth of scribblings, mental rantings and keyboard tappings, this book covers the same ground I have myself have travelled, both physically and emotionally. It is a part of my quest for understanding. To understand the world. To understand myself. And to be understood. As far as I can can tell, these three things drive a great deal of all human activity.

In it, I pay homage like a boss hippy to trees and seeds and birds and nature. I tackle the military industrial complex and the horror that we call war for profit. I reflect on night walks in Perth; on my relationships; and–like a sappy poet–on love itself. I talk about travelling, friendship, family and funk. Suicide and sentience. Getting stoned and getting drunk. There are reflections on the nature of reality and truth. There are hypotheses I can’t back up with any proof. There are invented words where no others words would suit. There is heartbreak, fluffy romance, and points most probably moot. And warning signs I’ve been stealing my style from Dr Seuss! And hopefully (and I’ll let you be the judge) there is a whole bunch of thought-provoking, spirit-invoking, demon-choking, smile-inducing, mildly-amusing, heart-string tugging, hippocampus-hugging ideas, rhymes and wordplay to get you through the day.

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