Archive for May, 2015

tony-abbott

Conform, conform, conform

Get your tedious thoughts from commercial television

Here’s a current-affair-today-tonight thought for you

You are a human dildo with a vestigial brain

Get your tedious dreams from advertisements and internet

Holiday in Bali

Get hypnotized by a smart phone

Buy something quickly before your brain seizes up

Consume, consume, consume

‘Oh my God,’ it’s a new bathroom

Watch the football and worship identikit musclebound dick-wads

Dockers or Eagles

All feebleminded macho dominant rapist assholes

In your brick boxes infecting like chicken pox all over the blackfella’s land

An infestation of suburban mediocrity

Exponentially multiplying identikit upwardly-mobile photo-shop families of chock full of morons

Fuck your suburban dreams and shopping-centre schemes

Fuck your football frenzies and capitalist ass-play

Fuck your home improvement and celebrity bingo bullshit

Fuck your ‘say no to drugs’ and two standard drinks

Fuck your Anzac day worship of war

Fuck your Team Australia and Islamophobia

Fuck your Tony Abbot and terrorism paranoia

Fuck your casual racism and sexism

Fuck your drunken wife-beating and misogyny

Fuck your brand new ute and crappy corporate rock

Fuck your amateur-Australia-day-drunks and mediocre fire-works

Please try to have an original thought in your head

Just one

Just once

It would be such a shock to the whole stupid system

heroinneedles

Victoria Park, early 2000s
I bullshit my way into a job in a drug rehab clinic
Schizoaffective poly-drug abusers
Manic depressive heroin addicts
Just plain depressive heroin addicts with a dash of PTSD
Lashings of ADHD criminals, usually on speed
All manner of benzodiazepine addicts
Benzodiazepines are the nastiest
Seizures if you go into withdrawal
There was one guy on sixty Valiums a day
All of them caught up in a spider web of chemical obligation and craving
Variables in the obscure calculus of tolerance and addiction
None of them ever thought they’d be addicts
Almost all have not two but four or five diagnoses- substance abuse and several psychiatric conditions
Never met a junkie without a mental illness
Eighty percent of them have hepatitis C
So many junkies continuously bitching and whinging
And no-one bitches and whinges like a junkie
Track Marks on arms and brain-stem
Paranoia
Depression
Delusions
No sleep
No hope
Voices telling them to kill themselves
Sexually abused by their fathers
All medicating their pain with drugs
And when you hear their stories
You don’t blame them

Their movements are wasted and agitated
Everything directs their minds to a continual craving
Desperation reeking, sneaking in and permeating the whole clinic
So much need, so much suffering, so much trauma
Endless longing for all manner of pharmaceuticals
To fill the vortex-hole in their souls

Half human-half corpses
Pinpoint-pupil eyes
Flickering about
A stream of lies on their tongues
They’d kick smack
And get addicted to buprenorphine or methadone
Which are more addictive than heroin
And don’t help much
But at least they won’t steal your video anymore

Kurt_Cobain_drawing_by_HerEvilGothM

To me the nineties were a wild ride through an anamorphic mountain range with mystic-ecstatic highs and dark suicidal lows
Living on the sharp edge of reality enjoying the futile effervescent joy of mindless adolescent kicks
Everything is more real and intense when you’re twenties
And some crazy shit goes down
Some of my friends didn’t make it out alive
I focus on the mountain peaks now when I dream:
Kurt Cobain saving rock and roll from hair metal with a serious punk rock injection
Cool music being in the charts thanks to Kurt
One crime- breaking into a Deli and stealing cigarettes only to find when I got them home they were all Menthol
That moment when a serious hangover was steamrollered to nothing by a shot of smack- the ultimate hangover cure
Hundreds of cones, bongs, pipes and joints to a soundtrack of the great distorted guitar music
Singing along to the Pixies ‘Some Marijuana- if you’ve got some’
Kissing the gorgeous lead singer of the Dumb Angels full on the mouth with a dash of tongue on New Year’s Eve- they were like the Ramones if they were women
Playing a New Years’ gig at the Orient off my head on speed and picking up a groupie
Having an actual beautiful girlfriend who was not made of rubber and enjoyed fucking me
Going to the second Big Day Out with Sonic Youth, Nick Cave and Iggy Pop accompanied by shit-load of quality pharmaceuticals
Iggy started tearing down the stage and shouting ‘Let’s fuck this shit up’
Playing a gig with my band at a punk-rock-party and getting paid in morphine.
Playing my songs to great applause from the other psychiatric patients at Fremantle Hospital and realizing that crazy people are the best people- my tribe
Playing a gig where we sang a song about killing the pigs and smashing the state to an audience that included policemen-who were way pissed off
Getting kicked out of my own gig at the Loft for being too punk rock as I was channelling Iggy Pop while pissed as Shane MacGowan
Dropping acid five times in five days when lining up for the Cure then ending up with an engrossing drug induced psychosis which lead me to believe I was Nick Cave
Playing a gig in a tutu to get in touch with my feminine side and annoy the homophobes
Great friends, great beers, great music, great drugs
Only briefly interrupted by
Occasional classes at University
Occasional weeks of work at crappy jobs

But not enough to spoil the fun

Of sacred rebellion

sylvia

There’s a foetus crawling up my leg
It has no pupils and eyes as white as an aspirin,
Vestigial limbs, no finger or toes
There’s a foetus crawling up my leg
Translucent skin- I see every purple vein in an infinite intricate network
It’s covered in mean-green festering slug-slime
There’s a fucked-up foetus crawling up my leg
I think it’s hungry
I thought I heard it whisper my name
There’s a fucked-up foetus with fangs crawling up my leg
Perhaps it’s a vampire
But not one of those wussy twinkly ones from Twilight
Perhaps it’s a badass like the ones from Buffy
There’s a fierce fucked-up foetus with fangs crawling up my leg
If I’m lucky, it will drink my blood
If I’m not it will also eat my brain
There’s a fierce fucked up foetus with fangs crawling up my inner thigh
I hope it’s just a dream
Or an acid flash-back
Maybe it’s a ghost
Maybe it’s a ghoul
Maybe it’s a succubus
Maybe it’s an incubus
Sylvia, Sylvia- is it one of your demon children?
Sylvia, Sylvia- did you see it too in 1963?
Sylvia, Sylvia- did it leave scars on your succulent body?
Sylvia, Sylvia- did you see it when you stuck your head in the oven?
Sylvia, Sylvia- does it still haunt you now?
Sylvia, Sylvia- Have you met your Nazi Daddy?
Because ‘Every woman adores a fascist’
Sylvia, Sylvia- I hope you’ve mellowed out in fifty years- you suffered so much
But you made sadness and death so gothically intricately beautiful
Sylvia, Sylvia- I think I love you

New Tune on soundcloud

Posted: May 15, 2015 in rant
Tags: , ,

in addition to poetry –I also make music—check out my new song on soundcloud with vocals by jake gillan

piggies 2 077

hunter

‘I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.’ Hunter S Thompson

When Hunter S Thompson ran for sheriff of Aspen, Colorado
He was going to make all the business men wear clown suits
And only bust drug dealers if they gave shit deals
He was going to gather together all the freaks, geeks and weirdos
And take over the whole damn town
Hunter used to breakfast on cocaine, wild turkey and a big fat joint
And generate more drug-fuelled crazy mayhem
Than any ten average freaks
Every mother-fucking day
Hunter wrote scintillating shot-gun-demented prose
About drug-fuelled crazy mayhem
Politics, culture and how to bring down Capitalism
He always used to drop acid before he started writing at midnight and wrote till six
He befriended Allen Ginsberg because they had the same pot dealer
He let his freak flag fly
A life as incandescent as magnesium flame- burning and burning and burning
After he blew out his brains with a shot-gun his friends fired his ashes into the air with a canon
He sure was one badass
Motherfucker
I’m not sure if I have the constitution
To keep up with him

yuppie

Twist my fistula you festering fuck-nosed dildo dangler
Consumer identikit corporate oppressive asshole
Your mother was a Walrus and your father stank of corruption
Suck on my sausage weasel and inhale the odour of dead dogs
I know you fisted the ass of the ship of state
I know you insinuate yourself into myriad high-level machinations
I know you are Illuminati and Elders of Zion
I know you are a well-spring of malignant evil
Oozing out like an oil spill on pristine reef

Look at yourself in your Gucci suit and strangulating pedestrian tie
With your ozone flavoured brain and money funnel fists
With your perverted knees and mouth full of fleas
With your kleptomaniac dagger-fingers and leprous gaping grin
With your banana boat ears and broken piano teeth
With your parasitic mouth and gangrenous temperament

In your inner eye a flicker-show of death, pain and cannibalistic lust
In your reptile brain pyramid schemes and retail vacuum dreams
In your mind inside your mind an infinite regression of self-similar malevolent automatons
All strategizing domination and control of poor and destitute people
By counting stock prices and watching the Dow-Jones index
To plot ever more efficient and productive economic mind-matrices
To embody oppression in each tastefully chosen good and service
As a self-absorbing sponge soaking up last pennies of battlers

plants

A spring of life drives flowers upward
Each sacred petal blooming energized to the moon
Chemically charged and vegetable driven
Toward the secret sentience of heaven

All abounding plant-flesh of the bush
Each solid stolid woody stem of flora
Enslaved to other life by love
Enriched by mineral power and fusing molecules

Photosynthesizing and effervescing with succulent sailor sap
Fragrancing air with fecund life-force
Tears of dew bless each leaf iridescent
Vegetation erupts in slow motion from earth with pure libidinous passion

Holy subtle quiet movement of expansion
Holy vegetable joy-frenzy of foliage
Holy soaring jarrah trees and microscopic fungus
Holy whole green world in sun’s sensual light

gautham_buddha-other

Between emotion and transaction
Between starvation and satisfaction
Between thought and expression
Between intuition and feeling
Between broadcast and transmission
Between action and inaction
This moment
The present
The now
Thoughts pass by like clouds on a windy day
Noted, but soon forgotten
I am one with the Universe
Seated and stoned immobile
Free from attachment
Beneath my Bodhi tree
Mystically silent
I watch my life drift by on a boat to Enlightenment
Not for me these tabulations of capricious capitalism
Not for me this mental masturbation of money and megalomania
Not for me this trendy mastication of macrobiotic illusions
Not for me this idle conversation about who sleeps with whom
And who sleeps with no-one
Not for me these clichéd observations channelled from commercial television
Not for me this brutal greed-head logic putting a price on compassion
Not for me this procession of talentless tabloid celebrity
Not for me these inscrutable letters from my friends at Centrelink
Not for me these pre-digested sound-bite political ravings
Not for me this endless grasping and craving for cold castrating cash
Not for me this tweeting twitter trauma teaming with trolls
Not for me this latex-clad consumer electric nightmare projecting advertising into my dreams
Not for me these dildo-head dilettantes sucking up my oxygen with twelve steps to being tedious
I will simply breathe and watch my thoughts slide by
Breathe in suffering
Breathe out compassion

ravenhair

O raven-headed woman
Spend a little time with me
O raven-headed woman
Take my hugs and love for free

O raven- headed woman
Heavenly breasts ripe flesh pillows
Thighs of secret lusciousness
You have hacked me to the marrow

O raven-headed woman
Like a shot of smack your kiss
Quick of mind and warm of heart
Show me passion, show me bliss

O raven-headed woman
Heaven knows you’re intricate
I long to die between your thighs
So succulent and delicate