Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

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

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colinbarnettA collection of discombobulated dreams won’t bring the government down

A miscellany of lesbian porn won’t bring the government down

A torrent of sharp toothed snakes won’t bring the government down

A pile of dirty washing won’t bring the government down

A vast herd of guinea pigs won’t bring the government down

A raging ravaging fire won’t bring the government down

A gibbering ghost won’t bring the government down

A philandering platypus in cargo pants won’t bring the government down

A transient burst of noxious gas won’t bring the government down

An avalanche of unreconstructed mens rights activists won’t bring the government down

A hurricane of hooligans armed with dildos won’t bring the government down

But dropping a shitload of poetry books on Colin Barnett’s head might bring the government down

 

 

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

Posted: November 13, 2016 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

charles-bukowski_8741

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

 

messy-room

 

Beer bottles of yesterday’s binges are spread out on the floor like dead soldiers on a battlefield
War against sobriety was waged and won
My chair is festering in guinea pig piss
The kitchen is a hurricane nightmare
My coffee table is rotting in ash and memory
Filled with all my essentials so they are easily at hand
Cigarette butts overflow in the ashtray
There also parts of old newspapers, chip-packets and empty orange juice bottles all over the place
Quite a few energy drink cans and some empty beer bottles
It’s a fucking mess
But it’s my mess damn-it

John Berryman

He made it all up
False malady – told with a poker face
Staying at home and watching TV
Counting the leather pelican winds
Making obstacles out of dust-motes
Letting his neurons short circuit

Grieving Henry was drunk
‘Wasted again’ Mr Bones
Spirit fades like a camera flash
Hope falls into the abyss
Life holds Henry in a fist
Squeezing out residual rebellion

Clench, clench, spit
Like orange juice
Or blood on sheets
At night when silence descends like mist
He remembers
How blessed are the dead

220px-Titan-arum1web

Corpse flower
Flagrant bloom
Stench of fester
Cadaver charisma
Sets flies buzzing
And maggots oozing
Like treacle or THC through my brain
Am I insane
To love your perfections
To love the idea of your stench
Shit-flower, death-flower, cock flower
Some love roses, some love sunflowers
But your dark mysteries churn my heart
Like an electric shock
Corpse flower
With your deep red inflorescence
You turn stomachs and bring forth vomit
In human beings
Deep from the brain-stem
You draw the flies and beetles
Decay feeders
Coprophiles

Titan arum
Amorphophallus Titanum
Penis of the plant world
So rare, so fleeting bursting bloom
Your name means gigantic misshapen dick
Proof botanists have a sense of humour
And you do kind of look like one
Bunga Bangkai-
Your name sounds rude in Indonesian too
Even deep in the rainforests of Sumatra
Where you lurk
Waiting to get it on with the flies

police-accident-3-15-2011-0031

Sometime in the early 2000s
I was running my own business messing with people’s brains
Playing with the brains of crazy people to make them feel better
I convinced a very senile psychiatrist
To prescribe me dexamphetamines
Once I got them I was pretty stoked
When I ate a lot my brain started whizzing and whirring
Speeding off my head for months and very happy to lose some weight
They had an unfortunate side-effect of making really horny and desperate for love
It sucked having a boner and nothing to do with it
So I chased any woman who crossed my path and really started to get a bit out of control
Of course, despite chemical enhancement I was getting nowhere
My predatory sexuality had become a big worry
I was starting to look a women with a razor-wire mind, seeing them only as objects

So a smart woman warned me I was creepy and put up with being a friend to guide me
One time I was over at my smart friend’s house
She gave me ten clonazepam
Which probably wasn’t smart
Thinking I was a badass I ate them all
Then I tried to drive home
Too many benzos are not good for driving
What happened is a whirligig blur of lights and cars
Then I ran into the back of a cop car
Writing off my precious little pulsar
While stoned out of my gourd
I have no memory of how it happened

Anyway they busted my ass and took me for a blood test
Which didn’t find the benzos
But did find a shit-load of THC
As I was smoking like Bob Marley in those days
Still do
Done for driving under the influence of drugs and dangerous driving
I got a three thousand dollar fine which took ages to pay off
And banned from driving for a year
I lost my license
I lost my business
And my dignity
So I’ve not bothered to get a license again as it just seems to lead to trouble
I’m a terrible driver and it’s now been so long I’d have to take the test again
So that’s why I don’t drive

oak

What does it mean to be free?
Free to smoke too much weed without getting hassled by the pigs
Free to meet ladies of easy leisure in funky pubs
Free to shoot smack and smoke ice till my brain falls out
Free to drink sixteen pints of beer and stumble down fractal streetscapes
Free to stay in and vegetate watching crap on TV
Free to scheme esoteric schemes
Free to dream esoteric dreams
Freedom not to bullied or hassled out by anyone
Everyone should have this kind of freedom
Man Free Woman Free Gender Queer Free
All God’s children dancing naked in an oak tree forest in sensuous spring
Bounded by a crackling stream rolling over rounded rocks
Sky a hallucinatory blue with a gorgeous rainbow

Hallelujah, Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Case

Posted: June 14, 2016 in poetry
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He had tears rolling down his face
He said:
‘I’ve spent all my money on speed
I’ve stolen off my parents
I’ve stolen off my friends
I’ve broken into houses
I’m dealing to support my habit’
I should have said:
‘You’re really fucked up man’ and got him some help
But I said:
‘Have you got some now? Well let’s have some then

.’