Thursday, December 31, 2009

only until tomorrow

Wistful watchers

wait by the water.

The day dies in rapture

but only until tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Holler (so I picked my smile up from the floor)

So I picked my smile up from the floor and slapped it hard onto my face
Until I felt comfortable with it there
And it stopped looking out of place

And I put my daydreams aside for a day
And my nightmares aside for a night

And did as much as I could
To turn my wrongs to right

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

No Pension

Hey babeeee..

Yeah Ive been drinking
And maybe
I was thinking..
Maybe...
You'd wanna come home with me?
We could have sex or just watch a movie?

I swear by the time we hit the curb you'll see
There's more to me
Than what you see
A drunken drunk stumbling around drunkenly

I know these guys that I came out with
Are rowdy and loud
Im not too stupid or proud
I understand how you
Could get the wrong impression about me

But trust me I'm completely self-centred
And this head-space I'm in
Im just renting

I'm saving up for a mansion
We could live in it together
I've got no money as yet
I've got a big plan
But no pension

Monday, December 21, 2009

ex

I don't remember how we used to argue several times a day about whatever we could find to form opinions on and snipe at each other like a couple that had been married for 25 years, but I remember how you would stroke my hair and hug me when I was curled up in a ball sucking on pills with black dogs chewing on my serotonin and white doves flying away with my self preservation.

I don't remember how you would turn me down for sex saying you weren't feeling well but I remember how you would smile immediately afterward, cheeky and wicked and cutely deviant, and say that didn't mean you wouldn't give me some loving..

I don't remember that I couldn't make a worthy commitment to you after years of being for your eyes only and you for mine, but I do remember how I could happily lay in bed with you for days and was happier watching shit television at home with you than I was going out anywhere, even to see strippers and smoke rocks.


I don't remember how I thought it was strange that you loved bands who sang almost exclusively about being drug-fucked losers and didn't touch anything of that nature yourself, and how you hated the fact that I was a drug-fucked loser whilst you didn't touch anything of that nature yourself, but I remember realizing later on that half of my favorite bands were inherited from you, despite holding my own aesthetic tastes in obscenely high regard. This was all well beyond irony.

I don't remember how I thought our love wasn't hot enough and that there was something missing, but I do remember, even three years later, that you set a benchmark for any future love I would have and I haven't met anyone who even comes close.

Now my standards seem prohibitively high and I'm always forgetting that
I have a bad memory.

the little death

cant sleep
something wrong
skin too hot
mind full of flesh
no room for zzz

to clear it out
strip right down
lay back
love myself

until

the little death

i die on my own
feels just fine

i mourn with white tears
bask in the wake

eyelids heavy
im beautifully empty
and

i fall asleep

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Tiger Would

Im shivering and chilly so I smoke
I'm as horny as I am broke
The only number longer than my debt figure
Is the time in seconds since my last grope

And my last poke at the pretty women-folk
Was so long ago its a joke

And that jokes about as funny as this one:

"Tiger woods was never really after that hole-in-one."

And to his wife that one probably doesn't seem as funny as it does to me
And as I made it up and usually laugh at my own jokes
And I'm not laughing
I concede

I cant distinguish between comedy

and tragedy

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

human

ignore everything you heard and throw yourself in the pit; dont worry if you seize up and ball your fists and throw fits and say nice things to nasty people and nasty things to nice ones or feel guilty when your innocent or restless when your tired or tired when you should be resting..
dont worry because theres no such thing as normal and nothing really starts at the beginning and nothing ever really ends and existence is a beautiful myth we're lucky to believe in and we believe in it because we're

human

Roast

I feel raw. I need to be cooked. I'm going to go sleep in the oven. I want to bake until my skin is a tasty and crispy crust and my insides are cooked to perfection, my flesh still rare and a little bloody, but yielding, firm, tasty and juicy.

I've stuffed myself with rocket, spinach leaves, bacon and grapes and I've smeared myself with rock salt, fresh pepper and four different types of oil and I'm going to roast myself until I'm a hearty and delicious meal.

There's plenty of food for everyone, so dig in!

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

a need to grieve

My bed is full of cigarettes and bits of weed and chicken and carelessly scrawled words
and so am I and Ive got five hours until I hop onto a plane to Perth. An hour to clean myself and pack some clothes is all I need. That and a hug from my dad and sister.

The exact words my dad had said to me were:

“Do you feel bereft?”

I was and the tone of his voice said he was too. Choking on tears and love and cherished memories

bereft

I’m making my way to the ones I love and we’ll think about the one we love that’s missing and we’ll cry and grieve properly together.

We’re going to have a great old time!

I hope they haven’t done too much without me because I can’t cry in front of strangers and sometimes, like right now, I can’t cry on my own.

And I miss my beautiful amazing grandpa and I need to grieve

Friday, October 16, 2009


Follow this site


postie (post me)

Somewhere along the line i bought myself a beautiful cage
i hopped inside and stuck a postage stamp on the side

i thought i had become too used to freedom
i couldnt take joy in its presence
and the luxuries of comfort
made me boring and self-satisfied

so everything i had that was worth money was sold
and all the small change that the sales amounted to
i put in my back pocket and then i waited in the cage for the postie
to take me somewhere new

now im in the back of the posties van
and thats most definitely a start of some kind
but its quite dark and im not really sure where were going

im hoping my writing was legible enough
that he can make out the postal code

but at the same time i dont know
if its a good or a bad thing
that i gave no return address

fuck kansas

I woke up with grand dreams this morning. I thought about my career and how I needed to make sure that I balanced work and play correctly.

I dont want to burn out too young.

I thought about how I needed to make astute financial decisions so I could enjoy my wealth but also make sure I invested in my future as well as my present.

I thought about the beautiful woman that would greet me for breakfast with a deep kiss and a loving hug and sexy adoration in her eyes.

Then I slapped myself and tried to shake the sleep from my mind, made myself a cup of instant coffee, sat by myself in my little flat and looked at every job vacancy notice I could find

with growing desperation

Thursday, October 15, 2009

plan

He had no wish to break any records for celibacy
and knew he was a cheap date
with expensive tastes

nonetheless he was still aware
that he had no one to blame but himself
if he wanted someone to buy his wares
he would have to sell them

so

he made a plan of attack
centered around
the proper execution
of alpha male chatter
at all future friday night drinks

and resolved to up his witty banter output
at saturday afternoon bbqs

and to work on his small talk craft in breakfast cafes for sexy people

maybe then he'd get back what he deserved
or at least wanted

the euphoria of pheromones
and the direction that comes with need

so he buckled down and

prepared himself for chartreuse gropes
cigarette kisses
and cocaine hugs

with a bunker mentality

and a new pair of sunglasses

Life is sometimes boring


Life is sometimes boring

You might have to :

• get high
• get low
• climb walls
• hold your breath for as long as you can without passing out
• See how often can get out of trouble (that may or may not have been caused by you)
• You may, for extended periods of time, have to alternate between the exclusive consumption or abstinence of juice and milk and caffeine and antioxidants and smoke and wine and chickpeas and as much oily salty animal flesh is you can shove in your grease stained mouth

This is the way of the world

None of these activities in themselves may move you forward in life or aid your well-being immediately. But if they do not immediately manifest themselves in improved mental and physical health.

If nothing else
They will take your mind off the fact that

Life is sometimes boring

Monday, October 5, 2009

the blind leading the confused

I feel I could not help being at least a somewhat more honest man
if my vision was gone

In my journey to find the woman who would understand me and love me and follow me to the ends of the earth; precisely where I plan on going

I would have no other choice but to rely upon

the honesty of a woman
her integrity and intelligence
and whether or not her husky voice
made me feel warm and fuzzy and lustful

By necessity I would be less of a shallow man
to outside observers

Nice breasts, shapely thighs, a beautiful face, plump lips
and a sexy round posterior

Would be impossible attributes to ascertain
from a distance

but I worry that after all my other senses
were heightened that things like

sexy voices, intelligent conversations, good intentions
etc..

would simply be new aspects of a person for me judge

And honesty, integrity and intelligence
call all be faked

and a husky voice can be worked on and perfected.

Which is is a good thing.

It keeps us all on guard.

happy is as happy does

Happy is as happy does

write a list of your grievances on a piece of paper
and burn it

watch it burn

Spend 5 minutes thinking about everything that hurts you, brings you down, casts a gloomy pallor on your existence

ruminate on how these things cause you pain
realize some of these problems may never go away

but with time most of them probably will

Then have a glass of wine and watch a funny movie.

If you still feel like you have been run-over by a hearse.

repeat.

Finally, if you find no alleviation to your pain in these admittedly lazily thought out get-happy quick remedies...

Find someone who seems to be struggling with life's problems even more than yourself and offer them a smile, a big hug and kiss, and the words of encouragement that you yourself deserve.

Good things come to good people

Finally accept a big hug and kiss from myself.

Because for the same reasons listed above I need one too.

Friday, October 2, 2009

ready!

I woke up this morning incredibly unrefreshed

and dissatisfied after a particularly meagre serving of sleep.

My circadian clock keeps horrible time for [1] and Im act[2]ally pretty inclin[3]d

to throw it out [4] good.

My blanket lay beaten and bloody on the floor

I assume it had started a fight with me in the night; it does love to try on the
old bearhug routine when it thinks I’m not paying attention

My pillows were scattered around the room

evidently they thought five on one was a fair fight… At least they’ll think twice next time

But life goes on of course so I ran myself a nice hot bath of coffee..

brushed my eyes and
scraped my body clean

and with a crack of the neck and a mouthful of carbon monoxide

I was ready for the glorious day ahead!

brown eyes in a bar doing a mating dance

A pair of brown eyes
female and beautiful
sing siren lullabies
silently
by way of stare and flutter

and peek out from under a fringe
manicured like a millionaire's prized hedge

at

Another pair of eyes
owned by a young man who
is much taken with
the owner of said former eyes

He replies briefly with his own gaze
but realizes with shy resignation
that to compete with such visual charisma
may be folly

And so lowers his eyes
they too, brown
back to his drink and cigarettes
at least for a minute to regroup
and muster up enough
mojo to do the

mating dance again.

Mr T says it better


I have two left

I could either take both of them and worry about getting more

later

Or I could just have one now and then have one later

and worry about getting more tomorrow

or I could grin and bear it for as long as I can...

But I pity the fool who asks why I'm such a moody little fucker..

Mr T says it better than I can.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Little shiny circles with numbers on them

Coins, coins, coins are just

Little shiny circles with numbers on them
Different colours and weights and
Pictures on them

Trying their best not to look smug

It's funny

How these little bits of metal
When put together
In suitable arrangements

Can buy everything but love

And sometimes even that
If you're in the wrong place at the right time!

I found a dollar coin down the back of my lounge
One sunday afternoon when I was cleaning
I put it the cup that houses all my loose change

When the cup is full I will go to the bank
and exchange the coins for some notes

The dollar that I found will be part of something bigger now
But only when I buy a new tv or stereo or IPod...
Only then
Will that dollar have realised its destiny!


The restless cat doesn’t know if it’s the itch of mold in the air

The sound of cockroaches scuttling across the cold floor

Or the winter that chills both

the night
and the day

like an accusatory stare

That causes his hair to stand up straight like it does.

But the fact that his hair stands up at all tells him he should leave

For at least a little while.

And although he will most probably end up somewhere

dirtier
colder

and

S t r a n g e r .

He feels like a change and has, unfortunately for anyone who thinks they own him, never been domesticated....

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

A question I'm not privy to

I'm walking to work and I'm going with the flow of human traffic
all walking as one (almost)

up the terrace

There are two men walking in front of me
they look like they come from the country

(The city I live in is already like living in the country, it's very spread out and has a sparse population, so somebody who stands out as somebody who comes from the country, REALLY comes from the country.)

Anyway, there were too such somebodies directly in front of me and the first somebody, obviously in answer to a question I'm not privy to, most likely made by the second somebody, says:

'' Yeah, well that's what it's like here mate. Everyone's constantly bustling around, you don't have time to look at the scenery, smell the roses, whatever. Everyone's always hurrying on their way from A to B.''

He sounds full of pity for the inhabitants of this city.

All I can think is:

"Could you possibly walk any slower man?''

Friday, August 21, 2009

vague and unconvincing notions (made him feel better)




Mindful of the ephemeral nature of inspiration,
but NO LESS shattered by its current absence in him,
he plugged away trying to produce

art worthy of being called art…
But no matter how far he looked inside him it was nowhere to be found.

He rifled through the mental inventory
of his past efforts at capturing the beauty that hid itself
in distant conversations or close whispers

and tried to express the

vague and unconvincing notions

that huddled in his head

like a room full of socially awkward accountants playing reverse-chicken
with the sausage rolls on the table at the weekly office morning tea

He rifled through sufficiently enough
for him to feel that he had
accomplished something;

artistic fulfilment or successful self-psychoanalysis
it didn’t matter what,
just something.

At 1:50am he found an old photo he had taken on a beach
the name of which escaped him.
It was of a sunset and it mad e him feel better.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Narcissist

A man called me a narcissist on the weekend
I laughed and sneered at him and walked away.

I had mirrors to look at
and

I’m too great a man to have to listen to shit like that.

Friday, August 14, 2009

I'm 100% sure that no one I love will ever die.

Today I went to see my dad.
I like to see him.
I love him.

We sit together and drink wine.

* His beautiful dad
* My beloved grandpa
* My family's own perfect patriarch

Is d*****.


He spent most of World War Two
A prisoner of war

And doesn't hate anyone.

He's got that stiff upper lip
That you rarely see anymore

And he's d****.

I think.

But there's no point in crying

Over milk
That isn't spilt yet.

I write that self-made slogan on a mental post-it note
And staple it to the synapses
In my mind.
.
.
.
I understand we're all d****
Just at different speeds.

My dad's aware of this too
And without a word he agrees.


Then

My dad asks me if I have any weed.

I laugh and look at him like he's my son
And I'm his dad.

I'm just playing though.

It's one of those funny things.

If he's happy
He won't be sad.

A funny sound and sight.
My dad looks like the professorly type.
He lectures me all night.

I listen mostly eagerly
Because I appreciate the advice.

We empty out the ends of cigarettes
Put pot in them
And get high.

He stumbles off to bed
And tells me not to drink too much.

I love him
I think about just how much


And how much I want to become
The successful young adult
Who's done the things
He acts like I've already done.

Uncondition love from a father to his son
with no provisions

My lip stiffens
And more than ever
I resolve to get those things done.

I stay up by myself for a while
And in the warm haze of darkness
I realise

That whether my opinion is

Obscured by black facts
Or white lies

I'm 100% sure that

No one I love will ever die.

Salivation is salvation

Waiting
always waiting
the cigarette burns down to the filter

Trying so hard not to dwell
on whats coming
that everything
But the BIG PICTURE
is rendered sepia

That sensation
of ennui
triggers my
Pre-whatever jitters

Anticipation
stays on the tip of my minds tongue
and salivation
is salvation

And it makes the wait

Bearable

Saturday, August 8, 2009

DumbBaby Jukebox


DumbBaby%20%20%E5%95%9E%E5%AF%B6%E8%B2%9D
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transience

I'm wearing my pheremonial attire
I'm listening to the symphony of silence
A non-existent deaf and dumb choir
Sing songs of vague peace and distinct violence.

Tear drops are parabolic and
Technology is disguised as enthusiasm.
I can only find clarity in the shambolic
And confusion in the most powerful orgasm.

I wish I lived in the future
And my father was the holy spirit
The final cut is nothing but a suture
For transience living as if it were infinite.

A child's schoolbag

At this point theres not much left
to do but release all the words bereft
of any meaning
worth gleaning
from my chest

lest

they go rotten
like fruit forgotten
in a child's schoolbag

A silly sortie
of random rhetoric

Apocryphal primarily
but not entirely
some historic
although all entirely
devoid of logic

DumbBaby%20%20%E5%95%9E%E5%AF%B6%E8%B2%9D
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Friday, August 7, 2009

Photos by the homeless and free wine

I went to a photo exhibition last night
It was filled with the typical bohemian types

There was the obligatory free wine
Plastic cups of cheap red and white

And plenty of cheeses and crackers
All the runny types that girls like

The gimmick was that all the photos
Were taken by the homeless

A clever concept I think
Philanthropy with free liquor as a bonus : P

To be honest I didn't care for any of them except one
It was a beautiful shot of an old couch
Artfully contrasted and tastefully positioned
Vibrant with the light of the afternoon's dying sun

There was a picture of an aboriginal woman
On the wall posted right next to it

I hope she was the artist and
It would make me so happy
If it was really her couch...

And she really sat on it.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

chupachups


I like hugs
I like touching
I like kissing and I like fucking

I like chupachups
I’m forever sucking…

Obviously that’s not really about affection or sex per se
But I really do sometimes eat chupachups all day

I think I developed the habit because somedays I take a lot of painkillers
I have a bad something or other

And I think the meds make me crave sugar?

I don’t know why I phrased that as a question
I think it’s an australian grammatical phenomenon

Although with it I have no problem

Anyway I think those things makes me crave sugar…

I read that somewhere anyway
And it seems to explain why sometimes I suck on chupachups all day.

It doesn’t explain why I like

Hugs
Touching
Kissing
Fucking

But it does explain why sometimes on chupachups I’m forever

sucking.

pulled back the curtain

I’ve been playing hide and seek with my muse.
I counted to a hundred and whilst I was counting
I heard her running away
Excitedly
With that clumsy gait of hers
Looking for somewhere clever to hide.

I finished counting and opened my eyes.

"Are you in your usual spot?"

I asked the seemingly empty room.

Upon opening my medicine chest
And rifling through all the different medications
I found the answer to my question.

Not there.

Next spot to look was the kitchen
On the shelf near the sink
A bottle of red there
And nothing behind it
Not the best hiding place anyway really
A favourite of hers though
But today my muse was

Not there.

So I went to my room
There was a bag filled with something
On the table
And even a pipe to smoke it
But my lovely and elusive muse?

She was not there.

Defeated and depressed
Aching in body and mind I sat
On my bed and cradled my head in my hands
And sighed
And cried.

I went to smoke a cigarette
By the window
Pulled back the curtain
Opened the window

And standing just outside

My gorgeous muse was there.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

the grass gets greener

The attractive woman with the deep voice on the tv
says heavy rain is coming.

I hear it splishing and splashing.
All I can think of is my washing.

It remains on the line
like a forgotten telephone banking customer.

Waiting to be seen to
getting thread-bare, washed out and ever mustier.

And the bike I never ride
remains outside, getting rustier

But the grass gets greener
and friends sit closer
appreciating the warmth inside
as outside gets frostier.

what funny old men and women listen to (beauty of the zeitgeist)

funny old hippy man
listens to his beard and
the whispy brown curls
matted with soy curd
and wheatgrass extract
tell him to
make love to the trees
and
make peace with the earth
and
to take off his synthetic shoes
and
wriggle his toes in the dirt

while

funny old yuppie woman
listens to her blackberry and
the smooth shiny square
filled with appointments
and deadlines
tell her to
check the stockmarket
and
monitor her inbox
and
to make sure she leaves work early
and
go and run on the treadmill at the gym

one day they will meet
in a demographic-neutral art gallery
make love
like humans
and have a lovely balanced child
who will be conscientious about the environment
And pursue a job in ethical law
and in his free time
he will maintain his own blog
about the beauty of the zeitgeist
via his laptop
sitting
crosslegged
by a lake

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

bipolarbodysmorphia

No one could ever love me
Because Im so fucking ugly
Somedays I avoid the mirror
For days because
The sight of my face disgusts me

.
.
.


Some days I fall in love with me
I think I’m so fucking sexy
I talk to the mirror
And gaze at myself
Begging my reflection to kiss me

technicolor

"How many is too many?"

He thought vaguely
as he popped a blue one into his mouth
chased it with a
pink one and
sucked on them gently

savoring the bitterness.

Self-destruction had always been a casual but
passionate pastime of his and
recently he had noticed an increase in
the number of talent scouts who watched him
expectantly
from across the room
at parties
and encouraged him to take his hobby
of habitual consumption
more seriously and turn
professional.

Perhaps the only thing that kept him
from heeding their advice was the
realization that most of the scouts
were more excited by his ability
to articulate drunken insults
to antagonistic crowds than they were by

his technicolor vomit.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Gibberish, gabberish

Gibberish, gabberish
Make sure you wash your dishes
Beware of fishes having business meetings
With pieces of licorice

Feast your peepers on preachers making funny speeches
On the importance of mentally-impaired alcoholic leeches
They both teach us of the arrogance of venomous creatures

A stapler having sex with a piece of paper
Would be funny
Perhaps their babies would be envelopes
Filled with foreign money?

Have you ever seen a fascist, racist, rapist, doner kebab?
I once saw one running down the street, sexually molesting a yellow cab
He tripped on an obese eel that was sunbaking on the pavement
Meanwhile a gay platypus in high heels watched the scene in amazement

Nibble, Kibble, Dribble, Quibble
Young liberals salivate at the sight
Of a nude nun trying to get a tan by moonlight at midnight

A sycophantic apple with nihilistic intention
Can still be interested in the presidential election

Chicken licking should be banned
In my humble opinon
Energy would be better channelled
Crying about the state of onions

Spend, lend, mend, fend, defend your enemies friends
Im so sad, not really, they're crocodile tears

I think this is the

END

Three types of dogs

You can see it sometimes
being walked in parks
befriending every man and woman
with a joyful lick
and wag of the tail
taking exploratory sniffs at every phantom scent
and thinking jealous thoughts about its predecessors

still nothing but a thing of love and adorable curiosity

better than that vicious thing you see snarling and biting at every passerby
that walks within metres of the gate it's locked behind
although that may just be loyalty to its owner


And anyway even that is a better sight than
something beaten black and blue
and whining with scared eyes
wary of another beating

even a dog from hell deserves a bone

Note to self: get laid

I like..

Parking lot trysts
jeans pulled down
skirts pushed up
all fumbling drunken hands
meth and cigarette kisses
and exhibitionist head

slow and steady
wins some races
but we've got to finish
before someone sees us

the power of the quickie
quickly quickly!

I like..

a warm clean bed
dim lights, sémillon and valium
jeff buckley playing carnal advocate
disrobing over hours
foreplay measured on a calender
the lovegrind so slow

that when the end finally comes
its a challenge not to scream
and after emptying our souls
(and other things)
we melt into a contented sweaty naked heap

I like both..

Treasure Hunt

He spent all day lying on the couch
A big spliff in his mouth
Xanaxed out
Thinking about how
Sometimes you say the wrong thing
to the wrong person at the wrong time

She ran off crying
She did that all the time
But he knew this would be the very last time

He thought about his life and all the things that were wrong

And how he could change them and move onto
Something to hold dear
Someone to hold near
The vision to render what was now opaque
Clear
But these things never came
And he slumped back defeated on the couch again

Sometimes you’ve just got to wait it out
He wanted to grow up rich and famous
Sometimes you’ve just got to wait it out
He just didn’t want to grow up to be poor and lazy

She spent all day walking round town
Working on her frown
Pacing the streets up and down
Trying to forget what had got her down
In the first place
Oh the agony and the Heartache!

She didn’t want a bar of it
She went to the bar and got medicine
To make her sick

And sick she got
Until she was sick of the thought of the sadness
‘Thanks a lot.’
Life’ a bitch she thought
As she slapped it stupid
I hope someone rapes and kills cupid

Sometimes you’ve just got to wait it out
Laugh you’ll live longer
Sometimes you’ve just got wait it out
If it doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger

The old man spent his last day on earth counting his wealth
And looking at himself in the mirror
He could see every day he had spent alone
As lines etched on his face
Gradually worn down by the time like the bed of a river

And how it had rained
It rained for days and weeks and months and years
It seemed like it would briefly stop but always started again
He stayed in with his money but still went out like a flame

But he was never a fully fledged fire
Solitary and burning, but not entangled and reaching higher

Sometimes you’ve just got to wait it out

Oh I love jesus!

Oh how I love jesus!
Oh how I love jesus!

Even more than Reese's Pieces
More than a racist talk back show man loves a thesis
By a professer on the economic reasons

For denying immigrants their visas

Jesus Christ
is nicest

And I try to be righteous

But I'm a big fan of all vices

BUT supposedly he's there for me in a crisis

Its the thought that counts I guess
And even if HE was never really here

It's the thought that counts
That point I stress.

They say beauty is only skin deep and that is the only beauty I crave to possess.

They say beauty is only skin deep and that is the only beauty I crave to possess.

I dont want to be respected for a beautiful mind
I dont want to loved for the beauty inside

I would like to be lusted after for the skin deep attributes
That Im never quite sure I possess

I want women I meet to find me attractive
Not because I have a great personality
or because I can be witty and interesting

Those types are a dime a dozen.

Anyone can use their fake charisma and charm to entertain people at
a dinner party
or after work office drinks.

Im over that.

Feel free to ignore my substance, its my style I want noticed.

I want women to be allured by my face
and my body
my bones, my skin, my posture and the way I walk.

I want to be wanted
Like dogs on heat want lovers...

All pheromones and hormones and brute animal lust.

They say beauty is only skin deep.

And that is the only beauty I want anyone to see.

Friday, July 24, 2009

A poem for a beautiful woman

I met a girl
On a bus

We had lunch
And got on a boat

We walked around an island
We got a little sunburnt

We drank and smoked for a couple of days
I think we were friends.

We made an octapus sandcastle
And talked about religious trends.

I spent a day throwing up
Every 15 minutes or less
She didn't even act disgusted
She just showed concern for my health

We shared a bed but I couldn't share anything more.
We kissed (Well I kissed, just on lips, no lusty tongues) and rubbed arms and that was it.

There was no more.
If that was it
At least I have that to remember this.

ME ME ME

I'm trying to make my life an allegory
But not a naive one

A far-out-star-gazing-bright-eyed gloriously gory story.

'' I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations''
That's a direct J.R.R. Tolkien quotation.
My head nods with the fervor of agreement

'' and always have done so, since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence.''

Is the end of that previous quote and though I cant deny
I agree

The most glaringly obvious allegory in my life starts with M
And ends with E.

Chupachups


I like hugs
I like touching
I like kissing and I like fucking

I like chupachups
I’m forever sucking…

Obviously that’s not really about affection or sex per se
But I really do sometimes eat chupachups all day

I think I developed the habit because somedays I take a lot of painkillers
I have a bad something or other

And I think the meds make me crave sugar?

I don’t know why I phrased that as a question
I think it’s an australian grammatical phenomenon

Although with it I have no problem

Anyway I think those things makes me crave sugar…

I read that somewhere anyway
And it seems to explain why sometimes I suck on chupachups all day.

It doesn’t explain why I like

Hugs
Touching
Kissing
Fucking

But it does explain why sometimes on chupachups I’m forever

sucking.

DumbBaby
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Sunday, July 19, 2009

Therefore I BOUNCED...

Therefore I BOUNCED...
Missing image
I hung briefly with this girly-girl girl who occasionally
and seemingly randomly
had problems with PDA's
(Public Displays of Affection for those less down with the kids and their trash-slang colloquialisms)

this issue was only an issue when she wanted it to be
the vast majority of the time she was most happy
to hug and cop a feel
(And I'm always happy to cop the feel)
and kiss like us late twenty-somethings do...

But

sometimes I'd grab her and she would all of a sudden
turn into a blushing 1930's-style-dame with modesty issues

I couldn't work it out

but eventually the suspicion sneaked up on me
that it wasn't me

it was her
or more acccurately
it was a friend of hers
she was a lot more reserved when he happened to be around

the two obviously had a history
and her and I didn't really

in fact I was a rebound

And therefore I BOUNCED...

Monday, July 13, 2009


DumbBaby
Quantcast

not a muse really

my muse is nicotene
and port and cannabis and
alprazolam and stillnox

its not a muse really
its a channel I may use occasionally
to expell negativity and positivity
away from my fiercely neutral body

my muse is exhaustion and temporary capitulation
and the words I slur to myself in a semi-stupor
half-formed thoughts sitting patiently waiting to be made whole
through the tap tap tapping
on the keys of this computer

And this computer
it must be said

is up well past his bedtime.

the difference

Do you just want me to jump through this window and fuck you?
Or make love to you?
Or whichever... They're not that different really anyway.
I'm not a burglar or a rapist and I'm not Romeo. I just happen to be at the window.

If I could jump through the window I would.

Sometimes people make love and then leave straight away.
Sometimes people fuck and then hug for hours afterwards.

restless cat

The restless cat doesn’t know if it’s the itch of mold in the air

The sound of cockroaches scuttling across the cold floor

Or the winter that chills both

the night
and the day

like an accusatory stare

That causes his hair to stand up straight like it does.

But the fact that his hair stands up at all tells him he should leave

For at least a little while.

And although he will most probably end up somewhere

dirtier
colder

and

S t r a n g e r .

He feels like a change and has, unfortunately for anyone who thinks they own him, never been domesticated....

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Built to last

My dad's dad
What a life he's had
Years spent starving in internment camps

Kept a diary on the back
Of cigarette packs
Stiff upper lip
"Oh, it wasnt so bad!"

Now he's old
pushing a hundred
A brain tumour and some strokes later
Resigned to bed

He still smiles
Strongest man you've ever met
I'm so glad I'm of his blood
And I'll never forget

Happy Monday! (for sadists)


Happy Monday!

I say aggressively
to any poor pariah I can find
who has the unfortunate luck
of sitting next to a deskbound sadist
with a coffee-dependent lust for life
who actually detests mornings
but revels in the semi-post-ironic act
of feigning enthusiasm in the face of ennui...

Happy Monday!

Our shame will be our pride!


capitalists with no capital
negotiate with pistol packing pacifists
on the environmental importance
of burning down dry rainforests

a black president lives in a white house
fat children are an epidemic
the most empathetic of individuals
get recreational with anaesthetic

beachgoers wear less clothes
every year that goes by
eventually we'll all be naked
and our shame will be our pride!

At present in me I feel the absence of killer instinct....

And despite what vegans who base their beliefs on ethics think

as guttural and primitive as it seems, life eats life after life, the link

being

the one they were consumed by, consumed with,

or were consuming.

Friday, June 26, 2009

The Eyes of Marilyn Monroe




I keep a picture of Marilyn Monroe
On top of my window
She keeps me warm at night

I like her bedroom eyes
She seems so wise to me
I like the way she lies
Through her smile
I see bravery
Just because her lips curl
Doesn’t mean she’s happy

Next to that picture
on the wall there's a Clockwork Orange poster
it’s the future with sharp knives
and its supposed to
Be fine art and so it is

I like the make up on alex’s eyes
Seems to symbolise
True anarchy realised
But of course it was done
With so much calculation
The chaos was in order by the time
The image was a glint in Anthony Burgess’s eye

Next to that poster
There’s a block mount of Charlie Chaplin
He’s dressed as a tramp
And he’s looking off into the distance
Standing next to a poor boy

I like the expression on Charlie’s face
I like the way his pants aren’t sufficiently held up
By his braces
He knows there are places
Where people are poor and hungry
Or maybe just bored
And he wants things to change

Friday, May 29, 2009

I know you
You think in headlines
In stark, bold print on the front of newspapers
A few sensational characters summing up an eternity of opinions and truths
None (despite your press)
W(holy)(sic) wrong or right

I know your enemy
Both wronged and wrong
Another in a long line of brainwashed prayer junkies
Hooked on blessed afterlife uppers
Buzzed enough to excuse any atrocity in the name of the
One great fix

The sustained ennui and hopeless struggle of a de-valued life excused and accounted
for
In the name of you know whom.
So go on then

Fire a gun
Launch a rocket
Drop a bomb
Cure nothing by creating an absence of everything

Might is right after all
BUT REMEMBER

The victor must be able to live with himself in the righteous glare of his success……

And I will be success.

Mania

A face as white as yours,
With lips as red as a bloody stab wound,
An injury caused by providence
Only hurting male onlookers
Through the pain of want
But never you..

Your eyes are blue as a desert sky,
They exist only to torment me.
With more precision than the most skilled and
Enthusiastic misanthrope
You inflict unendurable longing and deep, ebbing pain
To my already wounded and naive hubris

You don't recogise me.

But what I cannot have,
I will not recognize
For there is no point
If my will cannot triumph.

A thousand times I say
the last time my being will be devoured and digested
that was.

For sure. For certain. This time my indepence is for keeps.

But as you well know I always come back for more
And try as I might
There will never be a complete release from the prison of my infatuation

I am caged.
You are my keeper.

You are a foxymoron
And I am a lame bloodhound.
Baying at the injustice of it all

Do you see it too?
Just for you I have developed this mania.

The pure hatred of love.

Something wicked this way...

A thought like this
well it gets me
y'know?

I was already...
when i woke up
y'know?

Now theres a hardness
that i need to...
y'know?

explode explode explode!

The title of this poem is much longer than the actual poem itself

See.

I told you.