Posts Tagged ‘piggies’

Martha

Posted: November 5, 2016 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

piggie

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
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You were the one with your brain of bone
You lie and you lie like a corpse in the grave
You steal and you cheat
Drugged-up delinquent
Haphazard hooligan
ADHD criminal
Don’t crunch my gonads
Don’t pollute my peace with your perversion
Don’t steal my shit, fuckwit
Look at yourself
Peak out of your poison mind like a craven turtle
Look at all the bad karma you generate
Do these words penetrate your alcoholic confusion
Enough to perforate your sump pump soul?
Don’t steal my piggies
Don’t beat me
Don’t pick on me
You in your dirty shot world with your perverted entitled personality
And victim mentality
With your tedious anecdotes of violence and oppression
Fuck you and your collection of dirty fits
Fuck you and your drug induced bionic paranoia
Fuck you and your painful polka-dot hallucinations
Fuck you and your endless addictive attitudes
Fuck you and your Jim Beam T-shirt and boganesque enthusiasms
You and your facebook friends can fuck off
Fuck you very much

piggie

Winter trees without leaves
Bare Branches interact and spread
Clouds spun out in white woollen puffs
Blue patches of bare sky
TV aerials perforate the sky-line
Stainless steel roofs ripple
Lungs full of fresh air
Piggies pick out stems of grass in the back yard
Burrowing through tall grass and weeds
Playing their endless chasing game
Silence watching over piggies
Peace Man Yeah

dirtyroom

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a squat
A homes-westy kind of festering junkie den of dankness
When there’s crap all over the floor and dirty plates creating no stepping zones
The coffee table hasn’t been cleaned in months has black impasto layers of dirt
Just missing a couple of skanky junkie prostitutes nodding off in the corner
Now that would be cool

My sheets have a substantial amount of sand, dirt and guinea pig poo on them
Fortunately they’re black
I can never keep the doona cover on, so the doona is a dirty white slug on my bed
There are empty cigarette butts on the floor as I have been raiding my butt collection
It’s a miracle I get out of the place looking clean and moderately respectable sometimes
The wonders of showers and deodorant I guess

I wonder if I’d clean up my act for a good woman
Perhaps- anything is possible though not probable
I do kind of love my filth
I revel in many forms of corruption and depravity
So do the guinea pigs
They are piggies like me

morrissey

Cold metal silence
Time stumbles on thick moments
Broken coffee cups
Dirty plates fester
Full ashtrays
Piggies rustling in their cage
Solitary fly sneaked in through an open door
Ease into the armchair
Such exquisite relaxation
Lower back muscles loosen
Roll a smoke
Inhale
Exhale
Coughing fit
Curlicues of smoke from mouth
Light incense
Smoke from cigarette and incense forms spiral staircases to nowhere
Bored
More melancholy than depressed
But not uncomfortable
Time for a Morrissey album

piggies 21_11_2012 152

Little warm balls of fur
With cute pink piggy feet
Nuzzly noses, gentle spirits
My piggies
My friends
My children
It feels so good to watch them playing out the back on the grass
Or crawling all over my feet under the doona
Or sitting on my shoulder while I watch TV
Sometimes late at night
When all is silent and the earth breathes slowly
You can hear them singing
An unearthly bird-sound
To call the mother-ship

bushchemist2
The bush chemist has ripped me off and pulverized my faith in human nature
I took him into my home and gave him a place to stay
I fed him a multitude of meals
He’s stolen my piggies, my computer and my phone
He cut my phone cable so I couldn’t call the police
His evil is a blunt instrument of suppurating psychosis
I bet he’s stuck the computer and the phone up his arm with no guilty thoughts
Where are my wonderful cuddly piggies?
Probably hungry and lonely hiding out in some blackfella house
Perversity and malice lurk in the human heart
The mangled barb wire that twists inside his cat-flap mind is the essence of speed psychosis
Wild pansexual delusions oscillate through his crazy brain and I have become the center of them
I go to his squat to try to persuade him to tell me where my piggies are
And he threatens me with a dirty hepatitus-ridden syringe
Look after the least of these my brothers but watch your back