Archive for January, 2015


Posted: January 24, 2015 in poetry
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When you take the train in Perth
Watch out for the Train Nazis
With their blue uniforms and batmanesque utility belts
With moronic bloody caps and badges
With their casual racism and brutality
With their batons and pepper spray
With their mein kampf minds and tiny dicks
With their macho domination and oppression
With their Hitler aggression and plutonium stare
One time
In the nineties
Riding back from Fremantle to Armadale
A Train Nazi with a Constable Care moustache asks me for my ticket and pensioner concession
So I open my wallet to get the ticket out
And there’s a stick in my wallet
A fifty of stinky buds in aluminium foil
And he says
I can see your ganja! I can see your ganja!
So they arrest me
And take me back to Nazi Pig Central
Grand High Pig Reichstag of Perth
And I’m locked up in a cell with some scary looking dudes for a while
Then when they take me out they ask me if I have any more drugs on me
And me, being a sarcastic idiot, I say
‘Yeah, I’ve got a kilo of smack stuck up my ass’
So that was pretty bloody stupid
They strip searched me
And two pigs peered up my asshole in a desperate and somewhat homoerotic search for a mythical kilo of smack
Then they let me put my clothes on
And after two more hours in a cell with the scary dudes
They let me out
Then I had to call my parents to pick me up
They were not amused


Posted: January 23, 2015 in poetry
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Hands that grope your ass
Uninvited in darkness
Men pretending to be your friend just to fuck you
Men pretending to be astronauts or fighter pilots just to fuck you
Men pretending to be rich or wearing ridiculous clothes just to fuck you
Men shouting ‘nice arse’, ‘show us your tits’, and ‘I’d do you’ from passing cars
Men reciting tired superannuated lines
Being told you should shave your legs
Being told you should not show too much skin
Being told you’re a slut if you do
And it’s your fault if you get harassed
Being a body and never a brain
Feeling emptied of personhood by constant harassment
Feeling that all men care about is your body
Fearing rape by a friend or a boyfriend
And being told it’s your fault if it happens
Continuously having your boundaries violated by creeps
I hope I understand
Perhaps I don’t
But I’m so different
I feel like a brain without a body
Woman, teach me
Show me your pain
Show me your life
Show me your love
Show me your fears
Show me your joys
Much more than love, all you need is empathy
As Kurt Cobain wrote in his suicide note


Posted: January 15, 2015 in poetry
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When I’m feeling a little loco
And doubting my value as a man
Because I’ve been reading too many radical feminist websites
And I’ve run out of weed
I imagine myself dying in my fifties
In a room with windows so dirty that they are opaque
Percolating the funk of death in my own muck
Red nose like a bloody cartoon reindeer
Bloated, stretch-marked beer belly and the indelible wounds of drink and drugs all over my wrinkled face
Not Keith Richards- just a fucked up old man
Drool sliding down my dirty shirt
Terminally uncool and terminated
Soaking in rigor mortis
Discarded like an old commercial pop song
Having died alone with no-one to love
Forgotten and friendless
Abandoned and hopeless
Omega male
My name written in water
A malodorous corpse in a festering room with shelves crammed with poetry
By my heroes and heroines

Salvador Dali

Posted: January 11, 2015 in poetry
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Look at Salvador Dali with his waxed and pointy moustache
The artist as madman paranoiac
Look into his googly asylum eyes
Everybody loved him
No matter how crazy he became
In his paintings watches are soft like cheese
And everything is dreamy and strange
He was forever stalked by the corpse of his dead brother
Who has the same first name
His painter’s eye a psychedelic amusement park
The only laws were the logic of dreams and the unconscious
These hidden laws, this phantom logic
Which mystifies us when we wake from dreams
Is greatest law, the purest law
Pure confused free association
Dogs can be God one minute and invisible the next
In a pit of tar is hidden key of a door forever locked
The primal black stuff barking at the earth
A subtle substance worse than dirt
While women break into chunks then guts,
Then melt down the side of phallic columns
By cartoon statues made of wax
Up or down? Yes or no?
The answer is both, non-duality, pineapple
But the ordinary lunatic does not have admirers waiting for their every word
The freak talking to himself on the train is totally alone
His eccentricity is poison to the sane
And they flee and leave him in the prison of his random rickshaw brain