Moments From Within


I have a new book out, a Collection of Poems and Art I have done over the last thirty years.
For a short time it is available free (Until the 29th March 2012) from Amazon as an Ebook. (Download Here)
Some of the poems can be read here on my blog, but why not go and download the complete Ebook now.
Please comment on anything you liked or didn’t like. (Hopefully more of the former than the latter.)
On a side note, Immortal Darkness, the second book of the Kasdtien Cycle, is coming along nicely. Book one, Parallel is also available, from the usual places. Any queries contact me HERE
cmkneipp@yahoo.com.au

Thanks again and enjoy,
Chris K

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Flying out of Sydney

I wrote this while in Sydney.

I’m back
Back in this city,
This birthplace
This bruise upon my soul
Back where I grew up
This cage of concrete,
This hole.

Where beggars, like bottles
litter the street
Men broken and shattered
like glass at my feet
And everyone’s squeezed
Till like plasticine they,
Lose all of their colour,
Leaving nothing but grey
Where corporate junk-men
Dressed up in their suits
While the punks are dressed up
In their Doc Martin boots
And the speed gives them both
Dark rings under their eyes
As their nostrils are filled
With the dust of their lives,
I see building block buildings,
Stacked higher than high
And the skyscrapers scrape
At the dirty grey sky
And the trees grow confined
To their cages of steel,
While the people ignore
All they see and they feel.
And so, I breathe deep
Of the foetid grey air
And am grateful that I
No longer live there.

Chris Kneipp

Guess who?

Allow me to introduce myself
I’m the callous on your heart
I’m every evil desire you have
I’m gonna tear your little soul apart.
I’m every evil thought you think
I’m the depths to which you are willing to sink.
I am
I am
Your sinful nature

And every time you tell a lie
I am right there by your side
And when someone tries to tell you the truth
I am that urge to run and hide
I am the fear in the back of your mind
I am that secret sin you hope no one will find
I am,
I am,
Your sinful nature

And if you think I’m not around
Or that my words you’ve never spoken
Then I am yours and you are mine
And your heart I will turn to stone
It will never be broken.

Allow me to present to you
My many qualifications
I’ve been leading people astray
Through all time and in all nations
I can lie in Cantonese,
French or German and English with ease
I am,
I am,
Your sinful nature
And though you can hear me all the time
I am very rarely seen
But even when you don’t know I’m around
You can always tell where I’ve been
Where there is arrogance envy and sleaze
Greed and anger and things like these
I am,
I am,
Your sinful nature.
And if you think I’m not around
Or that my words you’ve never spoken
Then I am yours and you are mine
And your heart I will turn to stone
It will never be broken.

Sleeping on the ground = A song about poverty of all kinds.

Every day
Wherever your home
See the people barely skin and bone

Every night
All around
See the people sleeping on the ground

Oooh, you know
I wonder why
The rich get richer while the poor ones die
Oooh, you know
It makes me cry
To see people falling for the same old lie.

Selfishness
They say it’s right
It’s preached on television every night.

But happiness
How can it be found
While there are people sleeping on the ground

Oooh, you know
I wonder why
The rich get richer while the poor ones die
Oooh, you know
It makes me cry
To see people falling for the same old lie.

Hearts become
As hard as stone
If we refuse to do the good we’ve known

Hypocrits
We will be found
If we do nothing for those sleeping on the ground

Oooh, you know
I wonder why
The rich get richer while the poor ones die
Oooh, you know
It makes me cry
To see people falling for the same old lie.

Ask yourself
What have you done
To meet the needs of the needy ones

What goes round
Will come around
If we don’t help those sleeping on the ground

Oooh, you know
I wonder why
The rich get richer while the poor ones die
Oooh, you know
It makes me cry
To see people falling for the same old lie.

Oooh, you know,
I hate to see
A rich land blind to it’s spiritual poverty.
When those, who know
The truth are found
They’ll be helping those sleeping the ground

Teenage Angst Suburbia.

Suburbia.

In every major city, where people live and eat,
There is a place, Suburbia, where Suburban people meet
They give Suburban lectures, of gossip till you scream.
And still they try to put you in their great Suburban dream.
And Mummy still loves Daddy, ’cause Daddy pays the rent.
And Sister loves the boy next door but I know that boy is bent.
And Brother’s got his closet, and Junior’s got his chains.
And I still have to hear about Gran’s arthritic pains.
And Granpa thinks I’m communist, Dad thinks I’m a queen.
Mum thinks I’m on heroin but my arms still are clean.
And my sweet lovely lady wants to go and slash her wrists,
She’s asking me for razor blades and it’s hard to resist.
But tonight when all is quiet, no one’s going to sleep.
For downtown in Suburbia the wounds run oh so deep.

It was 1983 and I was living  in a fibro death trap in North Ryde, Sydney, sharing it with my best mate D and an array of colourful characters who came and went over the next eleven months. I’d just left home and full of hormones and THC I Wrote Suburbia.

I think I had some issues

God I hope I’ve worked them out by now.

Weird Little Meanderings

Another day and weary night,
And yet I still attempt to fight,
With all my might,I fight this night,
Its dreaded blight, sleep starts to bite
Though fight I might to write tonight
Though sandman’s dust may blur my sight,
Though dreams may whisper nighty night
Though might I fight this night, tonight.
This might be wrong, it might be right
This fight to write I fight tonight
This thing is not so black and white
These thought within my mind ignite
The idea burns in minds eye, bright
So fight I might to write tonight
Or maybe tomorrow is will be alright.