#55: Rusty’s Buai Stains and Pineapples

A family goes to a popular community market in Cairns. We explore a particular event through their eyes and see their relationships. 

Continue reading “#55: Rusty’s Buai Stains and Pineapples”


#24: The Thoughts of a Poet without a voice

The Thoughts of a Poet without a voice

Let me lose.
Release me.
Save me.
I will torment you.
Hold you captive until you set me free.

The thoughts of a poet without a voice.

Why are these words
cooped up in my mind
tormenting me?
Words that mould into being
conjuring thoughts
from the depths
of my imagination.

Like rivers
from springs
in desserts
in a torrent
bringing life to
the depths
of my

through sands
into sands
in the endless
desserts of my mind.

And without seeing day light,
thoughts die inside
without a voice
to let lyrical metaphors
be rivers
that flow
down the valleys
towards your minds eye.

Thoughts die.

Volumes of dictionaries and thesaurus’

are un-marked graveyards
that litter my mind
– here lies a thought
you will never hear nor feel.

They were all imprisoned
in the highest towers
summoned for an execution
that never took place.

No one heard
their last
They lost their last
with the undignified loss
of the poet with no voice.

Thoughts that take no form
could not have lived.
We only remember
those who were
written and spoken
to life
who lived long lives. Short lives.
Regardless, just lives lived.

Yet, I frequent the docks of blank pages.
The last place I heard their sound
Hoping that the rivers
That flow down valleys
Made it to this sea.

A sea of white
to sail my thoughts on.

But un-penned words are unheard voices that cannot set sail because they never made it to shore. 

And it pains me
knowing that my thoughts
are unaccounted for. Lost.
Never named, whispered
or brought to life
on blank pages
to carry my thoughts across white seas.

Now they taunt me
‘a poet with no voice, a poet with no voice, a poet with no voice’.

Without words I am an
Orchid that never blooms.
Like colourless sunsets.
A hunter with no spear.
A smith with no fire
cannot bring it to life.

there is a wall these thoughts cannot rise above.
I call that wall a dam
because it does not give a damn.
Holding back a sea of words
deep enough for Jesus to drown in,
but instead I drown.

For the river that never flows
will never reach the white sea.
Virgin pages remain ink-less,
unheard voices torment me
‘A poet with no voice’
‘A poet with no voice’

‘A poet with no voice’

They will hold me captive
until I set them free.

By Hans Lee


Hi everyone,

I’ve been struggling to really write lately, hampered by lifes trivialities. It is not to say I have been short of things to say, it was more so because the words were finding it difficult to fall on paper and take form. 

It wasn’t a writers block, I guess I’d explain it more like a creative block. Strangely enough, that was where I drew inspiration from to write this poem exploring my own thought process during the last couple of weeks.

Also keep in mind that this was written particularly for performance.

#14: Beware the Tropical Breeze

Destructive beauty is elegant and wild. I really love the juxtaposition of living in the tropics because we know that the beauty here is a product of the destructive nature that the tropics can unleash. One day all is peaceful and serene, then the next the winds of change arrive and change happens as natural as time in tandem.

Continue reading “#14: Beware the Tropical Breeze”