Archive for June, 2015

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Don’t cry tutu-princess, tender poet, loving mum

The monster won’t let you see your love within the house

So fly the coop, make your own nest and kick him in the bum

A comfortable nest where flowers boom

And mushrooms zoom and sunlight shines forever

Don’t cry precious woman, heavenly comforter, gorgeous lady

The monster will lose when you stand up to him

And tell him to get stuffed

Then off to your own four walls

Where life isn’t as rough

rubber

Lock your cocks
Inside your jocks
Don’t treat your meat
Like a beast to be beat
Break the back
Of madness
By spewing out your pain
Hail the snail
Of corpulence
And dance when you want rain
But don’t wear rubber fetish wear
Or dildos in your brain
No-one will care
They’ll laugh at your hair
And you will look silly again

womanpic

Just to impress you I rolled a whole stick into a doobie and lit it up
Just to impress you I drank ten pints of Guinness
Just to impress you I sculled a bottle of Wild Turkey
Just to impress you I vomited and fell off my chair

Just to impress you I smoked a gram of crystal meth
Just to impress you I stayed up for five days
Just to impress you I shot up fifty bucks worth of smack
Just to impress you I nodded off in the corner in a house full of junkies

Just to impress you I penetrated the clouds with my breath and enervated the stars with my glare
Just to impress you I transmogrified into a Wookie and howled at the moon
Just to impress you I drank the Nile river and shat out a solid gold ingot
Just to impress you I lost 40 kilos by chopping off my legs

Just to impress you I broke wind in the moonlight and set it on fire
Just to impress you I consecrated a toad as pope while wearing a tutu
Just to impress you I swam to the bottom of the ocean and found you a giant pearl
Just to impress you I declared war on New Zealand and dropped my trousers to the Queen

Just to impress you I fought a tiger to the death and feasted on it’s flesh
Just to impress you I beat my meat to Blake’s quatrains and gibbered like a gibbon
Just to impress you I journeyed to the land of the monkey king and brought back seven gnostic scriptures
But you said ‘I’m not impressed and I’m never going to have sex with you’

rohingya

We are the least of human beings
Less human than the dirt beneath your feet
We are unloved and persecuted
From birth to unremarkable death
The Buddhists lock us in a ghetto
Unless we have the money to bribe them
If we have no money they beat us
There is no food
There is no water
There is no school for the children
There is no hope
They took us from our village
Those that the Buddhists didn’t kill
And locked us up next to the sea
Hanging off the land in a noose of persecution
Then the people smugglers come
And offer to take us away
And we have no choice
We give them what little we have
We spend hungry, thirsty days at sea
Then we arrive in Thailand near the border
The people-smugglers begin to torture us with bamboo
They tell us to call our relatives and ask for money they don’t have
Then if they do not pay up we are dead
Our women are raped and murdered, our men and children are murdered
Our ghosts will wail among our bones
Our ghosts will watch you while you sleep

muscle-man

Predator patrolling
Muscle-bound man-puppet looking for sex
Eyes slit sweeping the perimeter
Looking for women-prey
In skirts,
Bouncing breasts
Full of life, vivacious and energetic
Full lips, white teeth smiling, shaking their long hair
Curvy hips- so pretty
Here comes the Predator to suck out their life-force
High nihilist ego-tripper
Looking for a fuck
Hidden in handsome appearance
Hiding in the gift of the gab
Impeccable self-esteem
Predator power-tripper
Macho-man
Meat-head soldier in a war of rape
Dominant male master expressing power
Brains in his dick, dick in his brains
Penile poison rage lurks
Solves his problems with his fists
Big cheese
Hunk of man-meat dominating everyone
Soldier in the war of the rich on the poor
Hunting gorgeous victims
Perverse player-layer of the weak, beautiful and self-absorbed
Muscle-bound malevolent mother-fucker
On the prowl for pussy

orange_bud

I’m running out of cones
The guinea-pigs are squeaking with hunger
They also need new newspaper and attention
The bedroom is a war-zone, festering and corrupt
The sheets are dirty and full of holes
The floor drowns in empty cigarette butts
Dirty coffee cups everywhere
I’m running out of cones
My imaginary girlfriend has a boyfriend
I’m going to die alone

I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’m running out of cones
There are plates all over the floor
There are lunatics at the door
I am tired and I am sore
I can’t take it any more
I think you know the score
I’m running out of cones
I have itchy balls
Desperation crawls up walls
Madness lurks within the halls
My brain feels full of eels
You don’t care how I feel
I’m running out of cones

stop_bullying__7_by_fallenunique-d462j26

Picture by fallenunique

Vulnerable
Rolled into a ball
Fist-blows fall like rain
There must be a sacrifice
There must be blood and bruises
When will it end?
An obvious victim
Bullies taunting
Words like knives
Words like poison
Women laughing
Become a spectacle
Weak wimp
Pitiful creature
Cancerous pain
Horrendous humiliation
So vulnerable
Rolled into a ball
Kicked in the guts
Kicked in the balls
Satanic laughter
Flagrant faces twisted to grimaces
Social leper punishment
Not right in the head, that one
A Joke
Human incest insect
A bloated blot on the landscape
A waste of space
Fucking loser
Victim

crowd

Vast human generations seething and reproducing
Talking about the weather and waiting for death
Pecking at each other like a murder of crows
Crawling over each other in search of food and sex like cockroaches
Each one seeking identity, significance and transcendence in an ocean of semantic bleach
Each wondering about the unknowable content of the neighbour’s consciousness
Each one willing to lie if no-one else will find out
Imitating each other’s desires in a sacrificial frenzy that always ends in murder
A virulent infection spreading over and consuming the entire planet
Pestilent people everywhere, all hypnotized by mobile phones
Poor and rich, attractive and ugly, black, white, brown and yellow
No end to it all. No end to it all.

Blue_Poles_(Jackson_Pollock_painting)

Blue Poles by Jackson Pollock

Pass into the twilight with no pain
Don’t show your wounds to all the flagrant girls
The world will yield excitement to your brain
So oceans open up and give their pearls

Pass within the twilight for no gain
And raise your wounds with all who can perceive
The melancholic meaning becomes strained
A testament to all who would believe

Pass the thread of twilight through your brain
And spend yourself against a boab tree
The rubbish men are coming round again
Your womanly ways are heavenly to me

Port Wine

Posted: June 13, 2015 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

iga

Sitting in the IGA shopping center car-park drinking ten-dollar port wine
Wondering how many hours I’ve spent waiting for drugs
How many minutes of fervid expectation, my senses hollowed out with longing
It always has to be this way
Will it be there or will they rip us off
Where the fuck are they
Fuck me it’s been hours
I wonder what they’re doing
Probably done the deal and chatting about meaningless crap
Forever and ever amen eloi eloi sabachtani hallelujah om
I pray to fallen gods who govern drug deals to bring the drugs to us
Then it’s here
A whole ounce of ganja
The guy who’s buying weighs it up and says it’s okay
We roll a massive doobie for the walk back
I get a chunky bud as my share
And we head for home