Melbourne is my home,
at least for now,
I’m a full-time day dreamer
with my feet firmly planted on this ground,
still a little all over the place,
a little off kilter,
I like a place that has secrets and hidden treasures
in unknown corners,
and people that smile as they walk by
and strangers that are down for deep conversations
and old friends that get you without having to explain yourself,
and flings that unfurl in any season,
and that long-term lover that weaves in and out of your years as you do through theirs,
Sunsets by the beach
Trams that screech
Bustling streets
Rainbow dresses
girls with sleeves
boys with long hair, short hair, no hair, dont care,
I like it when taboos juxtapose the main streets,
and renowned musicians busk on the streets
where busy-ness people stop and watch in awe,
I live for spontaneous adventures,
Climbing cranes
as high as six-storey buildings
in the forbidden night hours,
Sunset walks home from work,
Green-grass and flower-filled parks,
Slamming our poems in attic-bars
and basement studios
and dance halls
and friends’ backyards,
Idea-driven discussions
and drinking the syrup of imagination,
Stretching into downward dog,
Swimming laps before breakfast,
Sipping Sailor Jerry’s and ginger-ale,
while watching a live J Dilla rendition in a private bar from a public balcony,
To the people who squat under abandoned roofs
and make music
and drawings
and jewellery
and graffiti art,
to those who run second-hand bookstores and public libraries
and public art installations,
Laneway markets and local artists,
Conscious local businesses
and local publishers,
To those who work from the roots of the grass,
and those who bloom from the seedlings they plant,
People who bolt swings made from an abandoned fire hose to the ceiling of a ramshackle warehouse,
People that volunteer for a cause they care about,
People that are helping the people on the streets,
People that are kind
and generous
and playful
and adventurous,
walking by sunflowers sprouting from communal gardens
built for those who don’t have a garden of their own,
People who volunteer to share their skills and wisdom
at cafes and bike sheds,
universities and libraries,
People that give hope
and support
and patience,
To the talented dreamers
with the perseverance of Pharlap,
To the people that sustain legacies,
To the sun worshippers,
and those who sleep in,
To those with poor time-management
and those who are well-organised,
To those who work 80-hour-weeks
and those who are unemployed but are working on their dreams,
and to those who juggle both,
To those who educate themselves,
To those who’ve found their niche
and those who are still looking,
To those who feel like they don’t belong anywhere,
I promise
One day
You will find
Somewhere,
And those who pioneer pockets of the community,
To the immigrants, travellers, refugees, interstate movers, endless nomads, the wanderers and the gypsies and those who grew up here,
This city is a beaming beacon that pulls you in,
kisses your forehead
and gives you a platform to be who you’ve always been.
Like this:
Like Loading...