When the driver drives their manual car, their hands work and lever; Their feet mention gravity; Senses send and receive messages from the outside; Situations and circumstances alert their brain; And driving driverless, they are merely the body in the coffin.

A reared wave rare for its perfect tubular kind; The surf having curled into a laden impressionist funnel; Settling in, the travelling tube-rider points to the direction of heaven; The wave's gashes from the surfboard's fin healing instantly; And the sea breeze was passing on through its whispers the surfer's joy.

In stoic remembrance the alien is walking over Granville’s tousled suburban streets, Walking naked from the knees down, For, barefooted, he hopes to replant his roots. The alien returning to his suburban corrals, A past umbilically connected to a virgin future. His were brackish dreams meted by his school-hood, His life back then is his old testament now, He has nowhere else to go.   Pedestrians look away; this alien is malign. Those who enquire of his health, smile in satisfaction, Those who fear this alien’s gait, nourish their reactions and throw their rubbish at his feet. Anticipating the displeasure of the crunch the alien evades the mines: Once upon a time nearby bins wanted them. Displaying contempt, lovers peck at each other’s eyes, And there are the unconcerned, who get on with it, Shop surfing. Dining in and out.   No sooner do home memories flood in than they leave for built apartments, leaving for good. Everything like ...

Lo, the bald giant mulling over unknowns and sat On broken castings of regret; a figure of Buddha sitting On secrets and the wisdom of time, and wondering Why righteousness and sorrow create such thunder. In a world of people who constantly blunder About in darkness, in clearest light From multitudes of robes assuming the right To tell all that is revealed in an unveiled tone. Grist for believers, marrow from the bone Of some old human who set forth upright On soft dirt, diseased and downright Disgusting with smells and nakedness and fear. It took millennias for this beast to hold dear Another life, to value life enough And get out of traumas, out of the rough To make headway and fashion it progress Or understand aftermaths, the essence Of cruelty, persistence and unfolding wisdom Which could steer the future away from the harm Of indifference, apathy on show Long dead the infant, born in the know. Lo, the bald giant crossed legged and weary ...