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.