Archive for September, 2017

marthamary

Piggelies chasing piggelies all over the floor
Piggelies in the hay and piggelies in the straw
First Melanie then Maggie pop corning
Following each other
The eternal chasey game
Lovely piggelies with gentle hearts
Cuddly piggelies that make me happy
Loyal piggelies after the prime
Furry piggelies purring as I stroke their backs
Little fat piggelies playing their piggely games
Dancing across the floor in search of fresh prime

 

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lonely-alone-with-Jesus

Six year old boy stands alone in undercover area
Icicles, icicles all fall down
Bully redhead older kid makes fun
Glaciers advance, cold pain, social freeze-out
Girls laugh and point
Staying alone
Being alone
Aching with sorrow
He hides behind the steel girder
Making blades from woodchips
Wondering what it is like to have a friend
Thoughts like mushrooms in rotting flesh
Wondering why the other kids don’t like him
Plotting to pretend to be sick tomorrow

 

New Order

Posted: September 9, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

neworder

This old 80s song
The primitive synths
The Manchester darkness
The tremendous tune
Arching guitar and pure tones floating crystalline
Bitching bass running into high octaves
Feet tap, so icy cool
In love with the melody
Subtle lyrical flow
Nobody knows
Where next to go

frog

I am just destined
To hang from your orbit
Like an intricate insect
Waiting to be allowed into the light
Of your harlequin eyes
Just a lurker in darkness
Just a fiend searching for freedom
Just a demon after succulent tubular mastication
Just a fuckwit after kicks
Just a deadweight getting junk sick
Just a demon on the make
With a pile of drugs to take
And it’s all just an illusion within an illusion
Just another mirror game of echoes
As I pant and strain beneath you
With your sphinx silent smile
And forget my real name
Trying not to feel insane

John Forbes 1986 - ANU_original

I dreamt last night I hung out with John Forbes and ‘hit the piss’
We talked about Frank O’Hara and the death of God
We talked about women and love unrequited
We talked about Sydney skies and how to write a good drug poem
We talked about the importance of tone and irony
We talked about how Dylan Thomas used to do a hundred edits on one poem
Strange these fragrant poetic moments
With good companions on the road to death
John was as cool as I previously imagined
Brilliant, witty and sardonic
Then we went to score some weed
And some cough medicine
And filled our esoteric needs