Are you my angel?

Hanging out in underpasses, beard resplendent- your Hawaiian shirt bringing down the psychometric city

Dancing down pavements with your hash-pipe in your pocket

Dressing up as a spooky clown to freak out suburban natives

Mellowing out under a tree in vibrant sunlight with your heart full of love

Marrowing the meat of the moment like a pilgrim on the way to the abyss

Are you my angel?

Are you my woman?

Infinite gladness paints plasticine fractals from life

Diadems sparkle like schizophrenic stars

While muscles relax problems contract

Gonna be alright daylight transcending midday melancholy

Under purple skies, pastel balloons soar like birds

Sun smiles on tie-dyed moments illumining faint tracings

Perfect day blazing sensual sentiments

Peace of the soul for humankind

When dreams are confessed

Love becomes manifest

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Antipsychotics

Last time I stopped taking my antipsychotics

I felt a bit weird and anxious

And started getting obsessed with the rantings of pick-up artists on the internet

I was convinced by their bullshit that I could emulate an Alpha male

I tried picking up every woman I met

And got progressively crazier every day

Antipsychotics make me fat but they also keep me sane

Toxic masculinity belted through my veins

My pores oozed fuck juice

Not a good situation

So I went back on my medication

And started to mellow out a bit

Now I think about beautiful women all the time

But I can control my impulses

Hey Ginsberg

Hey Ginsberg
Imagine if you came to Perth Poetry Club
Would you eye the pretty boys?
Would you hit on SPM?
Give one of your prophetic gnostic readings
Play your harmonium for us and do Father Death and the Ballad of the Skeletons
Have a joint with the boys out the back of the Salvation Army building?
Great teacher, Boddhisatva, beat progenitor
Sometimes I think of you hanging out with Kerouac, Burroughs and Cassady
Digging sky-flecked psychosexual kicks
Drinking red wine and pretending to be a bum
When the world seemed like a wild trip of jazz-flavoured psychedelia
And you made it beautiful

Hey Bukowski

Hey Bukowski

How’s it hanging?
Don’t know why you didn’t like poetry readings
And called poets the worst of all creatures
I can just imagine you beer-drunk at the Moon
At the oldies table
Pissed out of your skull
Looking like a bum
Imagine you reading your twisted poems, beer in hand
Staggering around, hitting on the hippie chicks
What a freak-out man

Early Morning

Early morning broken bottles
Dirty fits and bad hangovers
Sun invisible heart inviolable
Misdirected magic trips
All your motions
All your sighing
Now embracing saccharine seconds
Like cannabis on a Sunday
Or a picture of an onion
Caressing and carousing
Through a faint vanilla sky
Come with me into abandon
Dance within the subtle ambience
Crash through vulgar wanderings
Break out possum indulgence
Communicate unruly utterances
Where dust buckles through compassion
Solitary bliss conundrum
Monetary missed connection
Blinding bats and sabotaging sentiment
Freedom rising on a donkey

Frenzy

Frenzy my dances of sexual excitement
Desperate glances in harlequin bars
Scoring the grain of the marrow of living
Strife torn between hell and houses of lout
Mollusc enthusiasm for disparate causes
Tremendous doings and beings of bone
Chop up mojumbo and pack me a cone
Purple my pants down from eating air
Never complacency never confusion
Always extruding mutated illusion
Plasticine being the stuff of our insect
I saw you breathing between tie-dyed seconds
I caught you laughing in pelican phrases
I felt what you contemplated by the train tracks
Knew you were happening coped with conversion
Bent your cacophony inside a moonbeam
I was the one who grocked all your cadenzas
I was the one to rachet your mind-meld
I was the one who believed you were real
I was the one who embraced how you feel

Monkeypuzzler

Nothing means anything
Monkey puzzler with
Your dumb ape wisdom
And banana brain
Covered in fur with
Much hair on the gonads

Swing from the trees
Express dominance
Make gibbon noises
And soon you will see
A hairy ape who knows no fear
A knobby ape who knows no bones
Enlivens many jungles

Martha

Martha
Martha is a very weird piggy
She’s the noisiest pig I’ve ever had
Always squeaking and wheeking
A very big piggie
Brown black and white
Abyssinian- with rosettes
Very loving
Very hungry
Loves to sit on my shoulder
And purr happily
Occasionally gives a little nip
But it never hurts
Getting old now
But still a lovely piggie

Feeling

I’ve been having feelings
Feelings I can’t put into words
If they are feelings
Not words
And they don’t come
All at once
But in instants,
Momentary lapses
Quieter than breathing
Seeming non-existent
Not becoming
No names or motions
Not God or air
Not normal
Not decent
I’ve been having feelings
Blind bat-like
Leather death thoughts
Esoteric nothings
Worrying particularly when stoned
No meaning
Feeling empty
Then they stopped
After a couple of weeks
I’m still not sure
What they meant

Scrapes

 

Rapid scrapes
In my mind
Pot music
Carousing
Imbibing
Sometimes
But
Not
Not
Not
To a great extent
Only
In dreams
Forest
Earth-light
Oranges