Have you ever walked across a bridge and found that a pair of lovers have engraved their names onto a padlock and fastened it onto the fence surrounding the walkway, as a symbol of their everlasting love?

I see this regularly whilst commuting by foot across the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

It’s all well and good that they do this… but have they ever stopped to think about what will happen the day the council worker comes along with a set of boltcutters and snaps away at their love?

A young man
His sleeve without a guard
Validating all he’s ever known

A young girl
She waves a kindred arm
Letters on the lock she draws

The young man
Strengthening their source
Couples firm their talismanic crown

The young girl
Her cheek a crimson rose
Pressed against his supple jaw


I’m a boltsnapper
Yeah, a boltsnapper

The young man
Aware not of the part
To tackle, crash and leave a foolish boy

The young girl
Survival in this picture perfect world
Will last not long


I’m a boltsnapper
Yeah, a boltsnapper

Glisten in the wildest faces
Nonbelievers, fight the tension…

Don’t snap that bolt

Glisten in the wildest faces
Nonbeliever’s intervention…

Don’t snap that bolt



16,396 hz
16,396 hugs
16,396 tears
16,396 prayers
16,396 reasons
16,396 caresses
16,396 thoughts
16,396 tastebuds
16,396 memories
16,396 heartbeats
16,396 compliments
16,396 goosebumps
16,396 km I travelled
16,396 synchronicities
16,396 days left to live
16,396 blinks of an eye
16,396 keys I would play
16,396 breaths I breathe
16,396 songs I would sing
16,396 strikes of lightning
16,396 more lonely nights
16,396 pages I would write
16,396 strings on my guitar
16,396 sensory experiences
16,396 pounds I would spend
16,396 colours of our rainbow
16,396 stairways I would climb
16,396 ways to blow your mind
16,396 abodes in the city below
16,396 masts in our marina of love
16,396 miles per hour my mind runs
16,396 notes in the score of our lives
16,396 times I would smile every day
16,396 petals on the roses I send you
* (actually no, make that 16,397, for reasons known only to me)
16,396 litres of blood my heart pumps
16,396 red bricks laid as our foundation
16,396 doors I would knock on to find you
16,396 rocks climbed to the top of our outcrop
16,396 seconds of sleeplessness so far tonight
16,396 fractal extensions within our tree of love
16,396 heart-shaped strawberries we would pick
16,396 crowded streets I would search to find you
16,396 faces I pass, wishing one of them were you
16,396 drops of rain surrounding us as we embrace
16,396 windows looking out upon the rooftops below
16,396 grains of velvet sand I run through your hands
16,396 holes in my heart that can only be filled by you
16,396 nanoseconds between our connecting thoughts
16,396 loops on this seemingly everlasting rollercoaster
16,396 rays of light extending from my hand-painted sun
16,396 fish in the sea, only one of them worthy of catching
16,396 kilometres of veins & capillaries throughout our bodies
16,396 paintstrokes I mind-numbingly count on the ceiling above
16,396 times I kick myself for not being the person I thought I was
16,396 candles lit in the cathedral, only one of them bright enough
16,396 steps I walked with you up the monumental Parisian landmark

16,396 more lifetimes I would live… just to meet you again.

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann

In June 2008 I packed my bags and moved from Brisbane to the UK to follow my heart and be with a girl I’d fallen desperately in love with. As amazing as the experience was, unfortunately it didn’t work out, and we inevitably went our separate ways. This is a poem I wrote that expresses what we would have done, if I’d had the opportunity to take her back to my home country and show her some of the breathtaking sights that Australia has to offer:

If romance beckoned, like we sensed with our predestination
If real life offered passion, bliss and fun
If love we’d birthed, across the Earth I’d take you on vacation
If only… this is what we would have done:

We’d spend the day at Byron Bay, the soaring house aglow
We’d walk for miles in the springtime sun
Astoundingly across the sea, the dolphins stage a show
If only… this is what we would have done

The paradisal stretch upon where surfers bear their joy
Percussive skins with bells like beating drums
Synchronic and eurhythmic like a golden girl to boy
If only… this is what we would have done

Stranded on a summer night, the bay of roses bound
The rock is cold, the sweetness pads our tongues
Traverse a thrill atop the hill, above precinctual sounds
If only… this is what we would have done

Amidst the virgin bush we trek, we grace the stream alone
The tree above proclaiming us as one
The water blue, just me and you, a place to call our home
If only… this is what we would have done

Further north we venture now, the tropic impulse starts
Inspires humid zeal within our lungs
The forest green, the beach pristine, adjoining like our hearts
If only… this is what we would have done

The culmination of our time spent in this sacred land
Encompasses a safe, yet stirring plunge
We reach beneath the coral reef, elation, hand in hand
If only… this is what we would have done

So we’d leave behind the frosty vales, the frigid, foggy nights
A source of temperate union we’d become
Living, loving, in Australia, IF I WEREN’T SUCH A FUCKING FAILURE
If only… that was not what I’d become

If only… this is what we would have done.

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann

Follow the path of hope
A path of optimism… a path of expectation… a path of everlasting wonder

Follow the path of change
A path of fresh air… a path of releasing past struggles for prosperous endeavours… a path of greener pastures

Follow the path of happiness
A path of pleasure… a path of joy… a path of ecstasy

Follow the path of destiny
A path of coincdental reminders… a path of fateful encounters… a path of the natural order of the universe

Follow the path of creation
A path of free will… a path of endless possibilities… a path opened wide by pure imagination

Follow the path of peace
A path of yearned contentment… a path of inner knowing… a path of tranquility

Follow the path of love
A path of no conditions… a path of soul connections… a path of pure magic

Follow the path of perfection
A path of you… a path of me… a path of all that is

Follow any of these paths in life
And you will ultimately be lead to the ethers of hell where the burning rubble drains your soul, the malicious, dancing flame eats into your heart and the devil himself eradicates every last seed of inspiration from your once fully-sowed body.

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann

I gaze at the palace, aware of the balance
Of scale and beauty in all that we know
Every end has a start, every light turns to dark
As is proven by watching the sun resting low

Hoping you’ll be with me soon
Under the Viennese moon

Priceless antiquities, modern complexities
Ballet Giselle on the clock tower tonight
Alive by projection, the modern selection
Of venue brings crowds by the thousands to sight

The rapturous applause as the leading girl soars
To the stage in the arms of her charming young man
Inspires a sigh as I look on up high
Past the bell and the spire and the Austrian flag

Hoping you’ll be with me soon
Under the Viennese moon

Roses appear like ornate chandeliers
On the balconies, teeming with scarlet and white
Pure reflections of nature’s perfections
Conveyed to the Gods of the Viennese night

So the young and the old, the warm and the cold
The dancers, the dreamers, we all have one wish
To live with the powers of Viennese flowers
And by moonlit skies pronounce, “ich liebe dich”

And I know that you’ll be with me soon
Under the Viennese moon

The scene appearing in front of me as I wrote this poem:
Ballet Giselle on the clock tower projection screen, with the Viennese moon in its full glory to the left…

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann

Sprawled on the bed with my hands on my head and my legs in the air
Knees fully bent, squeezing every last cent from my heart’s once-full share
Eyes to the glass, not a stir, not a pass, just a blink, almost dead
I silently weep while you pleasantly sleep underneath my dark bed

The walls that enclose me are crushing me slowly with inklings of doubt
Like the light that shines pale cause the circuitry’s failed, I’d be better without
The beam up above is as black as my love, once a soft shade of red
Still I lay in a heap while you soulfully sleep underneath my dark bed

In my breath I hear creaks from the oil that leaks out the bones of my chest
Through the blankets and sheets and the mattress it seeps, then it drips down to rest
In your space, where it’s mending this no comprehending of where I’ve been led
Yet I still cannot sleep while your dreams make me weep underneath my dark bed

No it just won’t be bright til I turn on that light underneath my dark bed

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann

The meal you thought was undercooked
Reacting cruel, the waitress took
An earful of your outlook
Don’t piss off the chef

She nonchalantly heeds your wish
Returns once more with fresh-cooked dish
Disguised saliva as garnish
Don’t piss off the chef

You think you triumph with your tone
Of insolence, but unbeknown
To you, your shared testosterone
Renders you acutely prone
To karmic fire and brimstone
From those empolyed behind the zone
Next time garnish: acetone

© 2008 Daniel Schaumann