•January 24, 2020 • 1 Comment

There’s a train beneath your feet somewhere
It rumbles up through weathered boots and concrete
And a plane up above in the summer air
Your hear it approaching, you then hear it going

There’s a candle burning down in Newtown Square
Its wax melting into the paving stones
You’re on King St, crying, the cars rushing by
Wondering how any of us ever survive
The days we all feel so impossibly alone

There are flags waving in the smirking heat
They warble and waltz in the shimmering air
And a scene in chalk on the darkening street
You dance with the outlines, people stop and stare

There’s a fire burning down old Sydney town
The flames dancing right through the steel and stone
You’re on the 380, heading back from the beach
Wondering why everything seems just out of reach
And the old places now seem they never were home

There’s a fire that pounds deep within your chest
It’s a heart that beats just like anyone else
But you feel kind of different, like something has changed
These burnt out streets will never be the same
As you stand on the platform, waiting for your train

January 2020 Derek Wilson

Sunset out of BNE

•May 25, 2019 • Leave a Comment

Are you willing and able to comply with the requirements
in the event of an emergency?
Are you certain that you’re sound of mind and sober
and possessed of at least some competency?
Do you ever have dreams about flying
or feelings that one day you might
die in an aeroplane crash?
We don’t expect to be crashing
anyway, in any case,
but anyway, just in case

would you prefer the beef with mashed potato
or the chicken that thinks the sky is falling?

May 2019 Derek Wilson


•November 28, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Baby, grab a keyboard
Play us a joke
You’re a filament buster
A smooth marquis
Guitar solo on the take
You know when to quit
But shoulda hit fake

So bring an instrument
Bring the audition
The steps and the saunter
And the auteur inner vision

Like, who would be watching
If not the yous
Who would be judging
From the pews

So bring a few hundred
Judges of style
Play us a jig and a dirge
And suicide
And all your dreems inside
Sound like

And all of your pain
Is a fairground ride


November 2018 Derek Wilson

Snow Capped Mountains Over Parking Lot

•April 4, 2018 • 2 Comments

The shots ring out in the parking lots
We scatter like rabbits shot with shots
We break apart and fall like snow
A bloody frozen rain upon the earth

The echo forms like a marching band
We flail like flying fish in sand
We waterfall and body blow
A wailing sound, like dying and rebirth

We donut twice on the asphalt lawn
We twitter and twinkle and fawn forlorn
The blinking texts we bear to show
A spatter of wit, a sprinkle of mirth

The snow falls deep on the launching pad
We shot in space, surprised and sad
We fall apart in the orbits, low
A barren world below our valued worth

The night calls clear and heeds the moon
We burn up way too soon, too soon
We vaccinate and shutter slow
A sea of blood becomes our national girth

The bitter bingles and buffers the fight
We vodka twice and across the night
We melt and drink again and know
The rabbits shiver waiting for the snow

April 2008-2018 Derek Wilson


I wrote the title as a FB status 10 years ago, sitting in a hotel in Reno. Tonight I thought it should have the rest of it.


•September 12, 2016 • Leave a Comment

I snagged the world on a wire
as it was trying to pass me by
folded and painted, pink and blue kite
thrashing about in the darkening sky

“You’ll never take me alive!” it screamed
and hacked at the binds, tore at the brace
and that was the last we saw of Earth
drifting off into distant space


September 2016 Derek Wilson


wild walls

•August 25, 2016 • Leave a Comment

you wish things
trying to remember why
but a clock ticks
it’s distracting
the drip, drip, drip
of seconds seeping
through the faded face

you remember things
hoping to discover why
but you’re lost now
a child scrawling
outside the lines
tattered treasure maps
coloured carelessly

you discover things
trying to understand why
but the ground gives
a slip and slide
a wet playground
you used to come to
now it’s long shut down

you understand things
hoping now that satisfies
but the sound cracks
broken speakers
the music distorts
you can’t even talk
a wall of pink noise

you hope things
remembering how you tried
but these walls, wild
ever shifting
to the next scene
of this lifelike dream
are now closing in


August 2016 Derek Wilson

Was orbiting

•March 12, 2016 • Leave a Comment

I told her that I was a satellite
But was falling from the darkened sky
She grabbed me by the collar
And pressed her words into my ear
She sounded like a deceiver
Though I desperately wanted to believe her

Then she asked what I was thinking about
Radar locked, she has my position
I told her I thought only a young man could write
A song like “All you need is love”

She looked at me like I was alien
A moon to modern thinking
Pushing my glass a little closer
She said, “Sure mate, just keep drinking”

March 2016 Derek Wilson