LIFE ON THE
KANVAS
:OVERTURE
JOHN SULTANA
SHORT STOP PRESS an imprint of A&A Book Publishing admin@aampersanda.com www.shortstoppress.com www.aampersanda.com ISBN 978-0-9805055-8-0 First published in Australia 2009 Text Š John Sultana 2009 This book is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968 and subsequent amendments, no part may be reproduced, stored in a retrival system or transmitted by any means or process whatsoever without the prior permission of the publishers. Cover design by David Andor/Wave Source Design www.wavesourcedesign.com A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry for this title can be found in the National Library of Australia
OVERTURE The pursuit of happiness comes in many shapes and forms of life. No two journeys for any person is the same, nor is the level of happiness that each individual seeks. Our motives and thoughts blossom from our own experiences. Sometimes we overlook the significant meetings and moments in our life, other times we embrace them. It is in our own decisions that we grow, and it is in our own decisions that we determine who we are, and where we are going. We determine our own fates so dare to dream, Follow the journey of my words, my thoughts and my heart. I bare my soul to those who wish to listen. These Khronicles are my life as much as they are yours... Placed onto the Kanvas that was created before any eye could see, there was nothing to see, who knew that the world would turn out like this? Who knew that I would end up on the Kanvas with everyone else there to see, who knew people would look at me? Take a look beyond my words and see the interior of my soul. I bare all, no words are too small. My words tell the journey of my soul, a soul that’s learning and searching, grieving and bleeding, growing and teething. Come and have a look see. See what’s there for you to see, see what you want to see. Just see me, but see me as I am if you can. Don’t be afraid, just feel the words if you can, follow the boy I saw turn into the man I see every day in the mirror. Let the words reflect into your mind, if you don’t mind, please take the time and take something away, feel the Krazy words I say. In the dark and the light feel my anger and pain. Feel my love and passion. Feel my worries and my faults. Feel my happiness and fortunes...see my life’s painting. Love me or hate me – it doesn’t really matter...I’m just trying to play my part on the Kanvas.
1
On the Kanvas there is a picture of me, this is the picture that was painted for everyone to see. See me...I’m me and I can only ever be me...follow life’s Khronicles on the Kanvas with me.
2
LUCKY DIP The hobo curled up in the corner of the city streets was a born winner, until one day he lost, and from there he just kept on losing. Now he is a forgotten image on the Kanvas – his face washed away in anonymity...Who the hell is he? He stinks of vodka and looks ugly. He’s always hungry, mumbling nothing, hands out begging for something. How did his life give up so badly on him? He is someone’s son... What did he do to deserve such a fate? This couldn’t have been his destiny... Over there the hooker works the street – she’s worn, her tight little dress is torn, her face forlorn, probably wondering why the hell she was ever born. Wearing next to nothing in the winter cold, she makes money shaking her money-maker, selling more than her body each night, she is selling her dignity, crying in silence counting her mistakes. Poor girl, dirty sex is her world. She is someone’s daughter... What did she do to deserve such a fate? This couldn’t have been her destiny... Across the street in the alleyway the junkie overdoses on pills, powder and syringes, broken dreams were lost in drug binges. His eyes roll into the back of his head, the poor fool might as well be dead. He couldn’t crush his habit, so he keeps on falling; now he’s in the garbage on one leg crawling and gnawing on the other. He is someone’s brother... What did he do to deserve such a fate? This couldn’t have been his destiny... In the suburbs a young beauty is too afraid to leave her house, her manic husband tells her to stay put, or his fists will put her in her place. Her black eyes and her swollen cheeks paint the 15
pain that is her life. She wants to leave but she’s too afraid, her only escape is thru the cut of a blade, the scars on her wrist are here to stay, the scars on her heart will never fade. She wants to leave but she continues to stay. She is someone’s sister... What did she do to deserve this fate? This couldn’t have been her destiny... Three doors down two hungry kids scavenge for food - Mum’s passed out again and Dad’s been at the pub since the weekend, it’s Wednesday and the kid’s stomachs are churning, their little heads are light headed and turning, fevers are burning, their desperation is concerning but there is no one to be concerned for them, for themselves they fend, growing up in a dead end. What did the children do to deserve this fate? This couldn’t have been their destiny...How could it be?
16
BABY BUBBA BLOOD Our time was way too short, You fit into the palm of my hand, rejoice the birth! You were mine, flesh and blood, my Baby Bub. My smile was overstated like never before. Like a clown the smile didn’t leave me even long after your first show. I had never felt such joy for my Baby Boy. You were so precious and small; I made sure to be careful. I would never let anything harm you. Daddy was ready to protect you. But what happened? My Baby Bub turned into blood. In my hand Baby Bub didn’t have the chance to cry, Where had my Baby Bub gone? You slipped thru my fingers and splashed onto the floor into a tiny pool of blood. I couldn’t even cry. No amount of tears could ever justify your loss. My Baby Bubba Blood died, and so too did a part of me. Lost in the world of fantasy a scar burdens my heart. Forever, I miss my Baby Bubba Blood. Love Daddy
26
LOTK Now that’s a fucking trip! Blurred memories, hazy minutes, lost hours, krazy seconds. Lights out but somebody is home, peering thru the curtains from across the street a little old lady is too shy to wave back to me. I should leave her alone, I’m scaring her dog. She draws the curtains back before I can draw my attention elsewhere. As soon as I turn my back the old bitch starts spying on me again – but she doesn’t know any better... I’ll let it go. Soon I forget about her anyway and I turn my attention up to the sky. It is so damn low; if I wanted to, I could eat the clouds – one bite at a time. I could grow old while getting fat on my own private buffet of unlimited beauty, but before I can take my first slice, my attention is stolen to noise... What’s that creeping in the bushes? Ah, who cares? I don’t need this curious excitement right now; besides, I’m too hungry to bother... But seriously, what is it? It sounds like music... Do the choirs sing all holier than thou for me? Or do the drums beckon me to walk onto the fire? Which way is east and which way is west? Lost, now I’m sitting on top of a land mine having an argument with a dream. It’s not long before we manage to conduct a deep and meaningful chat, and not too much longer before we are at each other’s throats... Again! Conducting a symphony that is composed of no reason, we become the best of friends, but at the same time we are also the bitterest of all bitter enemies. We create so well together, yet simultaneously we plot each other’s downfall. Our thoughts are so different, unique in their own right but we tempt war. Each day is a testament to the destruction we will ultimately force down upon ourselves. There is always love in war – it is 46
within the battle that we put love aside, and in the end, one of us will have to die. In death or in life I will always love you – even when you hate me I love you. If I could have it all, I promise that we could be friends; unfortunately, reality will not permit life for one while the other dreams... Life on the Kanvas is a trip, it’s so damn beautiful here, but it’s just so damn hard to paint your goddamn picture. There is so much more to paint... Good luck!
47