Guns

Check your egos at the door,

Leave your guns and, furthermore,

Make your way onto the floor –

There’s always room for just one more.

 

The gangsters and the rappers too

Will likely have more bling than you

But that won’t stop the funky beat

From whipping up a tasty treat.

 

‘Cause, in the end, who really cares

Just who submits to stupid dares?

We’re all here to have some fun –

For that, you will not need a gun.

 

Stephen Tomkins
18 January 2019
Sydney

Unkind

He wakes in the morning and opens the blinds,

Hoping for answers that he never finds.

Yet, deep down, he knows that it’s all in his mind,

In spite of the pain to which he’s resigned.

 

If he could but count the well-meaning advice

That unfailingly makes him feel worse in a trice,

He’d have run out of numbers a long time ago,

So, he smiles and continues to fight on alone.

 

He knows he has much to feel grateful about –

A black hole of nothingness sucks it all out.

To feel like a human, he desperately tries,

But all he can summon is deep, heartfelt sighs.

 

Still, life motors on and he knows this will pass –

Tears and pain and wounded feelings won’t last.

If, somehow, he can only bear these few hours,

He’ll rise from the mud and emerge from the showers.

 

Stephen Tomkins
1 January 2019
Osaka

I Wonder

A quorum of quarrelsome clouds has convened,

Disrupting a day that had dawned quite serene.

Sparking an argument, rumbling away,

It’s clear that they all will have plenty to say.

 

For those of us earthlings stuck here on the ground,

It’s time to seek shelter, if some can be found.

For while the big boys are all roaring their rage,

One never can find a free Faraday cage.

 

Lit up with rage and all venting their spleens,

Like indulged children, they conquer the scene.

And, in the end, when they go on their way,

I’ll still be here wondering what they tried to say.

 

Stephen Tomkins

26 November 2018

Sydney

Sleep On

streets2_led

Streetlamp vultures, seeking their prey,

Gaze on impassively right through the day.

When night falls, they shed their unnatural light

As the traffic rolls on in its hesitant flight.

 

But in the small hours, when the traffic has gone,

And the vultures might nap now their strange light has shone,

‘Tween moonset and sunrise, the street signs convene,

Reviewing the traffic lights’ usage of green.

 

As, once more, the Sun’s rays may threaten intrusion,

The street signs retreat in a hasty conclusion

And replant themselves like well cared-for plants,

As the traffic resumes like a column of ants.

 

Stephen Tomkins
21 August 2018
Sydney

So Different

For all of our difference,

So different we’re not.

Like gold in a furnace,

We melt in a pot:

As life burns away

The peripheral and trite,

Leaving behind

What’s important and right.

 

For when we’re boiled down,

We’re all nearly the same –

For where you were born,

You’re not really to blame.

The things we all hope for,

The solace we seek,

Are the due of all people,

The bold and the meek.

Stephen Tomkins
28 August 2018
Sydney

Us and Them

I’m comfortable with you and me –

I’m not so sure about them.

They’re not from here, their clothes are strange,

They’re easy to condemn.

 

They speak some other language too –

I don’t know why they’re here!

And, what is worse, they’ve brought their kids!

Oh God, I need a beer!

 

Let’s banish them to somewhere else

And then we will be fine –

Though who is in and who is out’s

Not easy to define.

 

For not that long ago, you see,

My folks arrived here too.

Somehow, they made this place their home –

Perhaps some more can too?

 

Stephen Tomkins
30 October 18
Brisbane

Everyone’s a Critic

Critics gonna criticise

No matter what you do

Until you get that special ‘name’

And then they’ll all love you.

So, do your best and publish

When you think the time is right,

‘Cos critics are proud owners

Of so much more bark than bite.

 

Stephen Tomkins
21 September 2018
Sydney

Hello?

In the crowd but not of it,

I’m swept along like a leaf.

A floater, fleetingly feeling his way,

Unwittingly seeking relief.

 

I’m part of the crowd but aloof,

Out of hundreds, a singular cell.

Unnoticed, unheard, it’s all somehow absurd,

We each have a story to tell.

 

Vapourisation, some weird conflagration,

Should suddenly cause me to cease,

The crowd, though diminished, flows on to the finish,

Content with its version of peace.

 

Stephen Tomkins
7 October 2018
Osaka

True Love

Jesus himself died to save us, it’s said.

He submitted so humbly, then rose from the dead.

If, in the world, there were no one but me,

Without hesitation, he’d embrace that tree.

 

Try as I might, I just can’t comprehend

For my sake, Our Lord would from Heaven descend

And, further, for me, to such suffering submit,

Considering me worthy of sin to acquit.

 

Beyond comprehension is such love divine

And yet, for the taking, such love can be mine.

He loves without scruples; He is love itself.

How could I have known I’d be blessed with such wealth?

 

Stephen Tomkins
8 October 2018
Osaka

Life Goes On

All through the almighty uproar and din,

He patiently waited for life to begin.

He studied and worked and did all that he should,

Did all that they told him, he yearned to be good.

 

And just when he thought he had earned his reward,

It was then that they cut his umbilical cord.

All that he was hissed right out through the hole

And blew him straight into a night black as coal.

 

But when he’d accepted he’d breathed his last breath,

They stopped up the hole and so saved him from death.

Once more, he began to do all that he should,

Do all that they told him, do more than he could.

 

The treadmill continued until he was old

And, hunched by the fire to ward off the cold,

He stared at the fire, entranced by the flames

Recalling his friends – he’d forgotten their names.

 

At last, he could see just how foolish he’d been,

Waiting each day for his life to begin –

His life had been rolling along the whole time.

In spite of the hardships, his life was just fine.

 

Stephen Tomkins
27 September 2018
Sydney