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2018 Best New Talent - Short and Sweet Festival Sydney
2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)


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A poem for my teenage daughter, though perhaps more for her future self



A little personal this week. 

Children. Teenagers. Parenthood. No walk in the park. A lot of rewards. Depends on the age and stage of life and what our own lives consist of. Like all relationships, sometimes they flourish with little effort, others, only difficulties despite the work.

As of this poem, my daughter is thirteen. She will need me again but not now. That's hard to deal with.

It's a normal rite of passage yet brings up a range of polarising feelings.



In the same way

That being older

Made me a better parent

It created a tougher time

For the turmoil

Of teenage hood.


There’s no easy way through

On either side

A survival of the tsunami

Made through endurance.


Though my coping ability

Is far less

Than a decade or so prior

Though I waltzed out the door

Once before

So perhaps not.


Yet, now there’s nowhere

To walk to

No escape

For the prisoner

Who built

His own cell.


I hope for a happy outcome

Though my tank is already empty

And the journey ahead

Too long.


So, I’ll say sorry now


That I couldn’t do better

And take the responsibility

Which is mine to own.




7.55 pm.


In 2022, not long before 'the change' aged 11 1/2.

To be fair to her, I'm not the same as I was two years ago either. Hence this poem I suppose.

Off for a few weeks 'head' break. Not a holiday. 

There's plenty of diverse, original videos over at My YouTube Channel and daily posts on my Facebook Author Page.
Hope you're well. 


Ambitions - Trying to create a future


We may have plans for the future but other factors will have their say.

Ambitions (in the scheme of things)


We were born in valleys

And moss encrusted fissures

Like million year old lichen

Eager for un-time stamped journeys.


The urge for individualistic dreams

Buried in nature’s progression

Unbeknownst to us

Chuckling, steaming, scheming

To the golden carrot

On a string

Locked in targets

And battles blossoming

As surging spawn seeks

To spread

To filter

To lead

While particles continue to harden

On fallen rocks.


Pre-occupations soar

Cutting colour into the sky

While continental plates


With ne’er an eye

To what’s Above.


Ambition seems furthermost from my mind these days. A decade ago, was a different story (yet with a grip on the tangible). Always good to dig back into the older works. The newer ones seem too gloomy. Though perhaps more honest. 

No-one gives a fuck anyway. The work finds who it should. And misses the rest. That's just how it is.

A.J. Langford Books

Until next time,



Video - Crackle like a record

Life is hard but sometimes the toughest battle is that within.

We're stuck in our own heads, like being caged without walls. 

This video is a poem I wrote about anxiety, written during a bad (yet endless) stretch.

Please watch Crackle HERE

Words 2020 / Video 2022

Yes, Caged without Walls is the name of my first poetry collection, published 2013. Many detail my own struggles and the struggles of others. So this is nothing new for me but now is an especially hard time.

My Anti-Depressant Nightmare

More Videos on My YouTube Channel

A.J. Langford Books

Hope you're faring okay. If not, loving life!



Love failing

Fragile beings we are, as Yoda may have once said. (Or sounds like said, he may). 
Peace to you, no matter your situation.

'Life is cruel, Life is tough
Life is crazy, then it all turns to dust.'

Tears for Fears - The Tipping Point

Peace to you, no matter your situation.

Head off at the pass

There’s little
To draw from
A trickle
Once a tenacious flow
Now bare moisture on rocks
Passion monochrome
Sucking in air
Suffocating fish gasps.

Inevitability laden
It all ends
Yet must remain unexpected
Sharp revelations
The lover who finally
Called it void
When optimism kept you breathing.

Betrayal is often obvious
(For the discerning)
Therefore self-sacrifice
Is the ultimate victor
Minus a winner.


Was initially to be included in the 2018 book... Allowing a love to die... but I dropped it.

How does it make you feel? Any thoughts on it? A relationship story you'd care to relate? 

Take care for now
Chat soon.

Peace and love

Steadying - A (short) Video



Hope you're doing well.

Here's a very short and hopefully uplifting video.

Not sure it relates specifically to the video but I like the image.
What it represents is open to your interpretation. 

Watch HERE

A.J. Langford Books

The most 'woman centric' song ever made


Feminist blues

The song, State Hospital by 'retired' Scottish band, Frightened Rabbit is an anthem for some women (seemingly with a domestic violence aspect), firstly as victims, then as survivors and ultimately those with hope. All within one very poignant, multi-layered track.

"Brought home to breathe smoke in arms of her mother with a blunt kitchen knife

Who just lays in a submissive position

Beneath the national weight and the slow arc of a fist."


"Her blood is thicker than concrete,
 forced to be brave she was, born into a grave."

"If blood is thicker than concrete
All is not lost."

That last line is so powerful, considering how Scott's own mental state declined.

To analyse further for yourself, watch and listen HERE; (and please listen to the whole song, an absolute classic) - the official film clip makes it quite clear as to its content. A very powerful song. Arguably more powerful now (and perhaps timeless), than upon it's initial release. A song beyond its time. 

It's about suffering and resilience. It can be aimed at anyone but it's obvious that this is a song for females. Ironically, written by the late and extremely talented man, Scott Hutchison, lead singer and creator of the band Frightened Rabbit, whose existence ceased to be the moment he took his own life on the 9th May, 2018, aged just 36. 

More about Scott and the band HERE

Next week, 

An original, short and positive video; Steadying.

A.J. Langford Books

The young ones. She's in Big trouble.


An overheard conversation.

Big Serious Trouble


I mean, I love him and all, but it’s just … that…

            He’s not the one for you?

No, he is. I think. God, I hope so. I know he is, but he’s lying to me.  I can feel it.

            Oh. Like intuition?

Yeah exactly. We know stuff. Like the other day, Thursday, he said he was really tired and wanted a quiet night. So I go, okay, fine, I won’t see him. I won’t even text him that much because I know he has to get up early for work. So we talk for like an hour, and then at about eight thirty or whatever, I let him go.

            Doing the right thing.

Exactly. And so I said good night and he said good night and like, I was pretty bored and everything, so I just went out for frozen yoghurt with Patricia. Then, get this, at about eleven thirty or something, I get this random text, saying like come over baby, I really want you now and all this shit.

            What the hell?

I know right? He was all horny and acting weird.

            He was drunk.

Well. That’s what I said. But he said I was crazy and laughed it off.

Did you go over?

No chance. I’m not falling for that shit. So the next day, he says he must have been half asleep. I don’t think he even remembered.

            Yep. Drunk.

I reckon too, but he said he wasn’t. He insisted.

So, where do you think he was?

Out with the boys maybe, I don’t know. I mean he sees them every Saturday afternoon at football so why does he have to see them during the week? He should be with me, right?

            You should kick his ass to the curb.

I’m his girlfriend. I should be enough.

            Hell, yeah. Selfish prick. Dump him, quick.

Nah. I’m gunna change him. Just wait and see.


This was written in 2013 yet is timeless. Despite changing attitudes and customs, people never change. If in doubt, read the ancient Greek philosophers. They understood people better than many today. 

The image at the top is AI generated by me (does that mean others can't create the same image with the same prompts?). 

Meditations on relationships

Hope you have a good week.

The fool's dream. Is it me?


Everyone's got a sob story.

I've been prone to bouts of melancholia and anxiety as far back as I can remember. There was no such diagnosis in the 70's and 80's, not in rural Australia anyway, and now that I'm in my 50's and still have them as companions, I'm likely stuck with them til the end. Hence this poem. (An image version at the bottom).

Endurance and acceptance are likely the two biggest allies to adopt. If you have additional ones, more than happy to hear them. (I've reluctantly started a new medication, not an anti-depressant and starting counselling this week). 

Therapy through writing.

The fool’s dream


I wake with the fear

And fall asleep with hope

Knowing reality

Rarely waits patiently between both.


When will I learn

That there’s nothing new to learn?

The fog settled in

A long time ago

I just can’t let go

Of the sweet concept

Of a better tomorrow.


It’s the calling

That keeps fools dreaming

Which I should be grateful for

As temporary fantasy

Remains a release

But I recognised the lie

So far back

That I can’t be party to it




20.9.23 7.20 pm

Edit   27.2.24


I have far more additional stress than September last year, hence the edit in Feb. I guess and the decision to post it now. 

We all have our bullshit to deal with. A lot of mine is within my head. No escaping that.

Anyway, smile and fake it and push on. Fuck it.