Posts Tagged ‘train’

train-to-beach-perth

There is a certain elegance about a train

Decimating a body without pain

Because of the speed of execution

So let us speak of terrible miserable things

Dead forever, the big black nothing looms

A skeleton with sickle all dressed in black rags

Skeletal rictus jawboning and flabberjabbering the penalties for my horrific sins

There is a certain elegance about a train

Walk down the train-track at Queens Park so the C train

Comes through like a giant bullet

Splattering and battering me to constituent molecules

Rendering unto paste

Blood frenzy and deadly destruction poisons the atmosphere

My poor parents would not cope

But I’m trying not to do it

I’m a reluctant suicide case

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abstract

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

bb622passionateaffair

Icicle underpants blazing concrete death mothers
Bread lacks street cred harrowing halls
mangrove mandala giving taking breaking sifting lifting
like mangoes day glo I don’t know
some kind of wiry knot but not constructed of ants or string
My daylight ramblings through train stations like a pilgrim
Chewing gum paper waffles of light because not always because not always like Christmas Eve
Neither Monday nor Pork nor April nor channelling delayed language

Nor being composed of monolith bracken bridges
Driven out and over by the pineapples of co-incidence
Beat rhythms sometimes no sequences or sentiment
Pedophile epididimus roached to quiet satisfaction
Hate and love not identity politics
Consider lesbian grief munching
under old sheets
waiting for a perverted minute
corruption breeds chocolate sphincters
Glistening kraut cadenzas
Happening repeated orgasms of light
poisonous meat bucket knows loaf trousers
metaphors metastasizing grave neurons
simplex engagement fundamental questions
What penguin? Which anal bead? Which weapon of need?
Everything and everywhere, even in your head
Waiting for melting bananas and dust
Remember Jabba Jesus Jack Kerouac Jimmy Hendrix Jim Morrison

Busted

Posted: January 24, 2015 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Transit_Officer_header
When you take the train in Perth
Watch out for the Train Nazis
With their blue uniforms and batmanesque utility belts
With moronic bloody caps and badges
With their casual racism and brutality
With their batons and pepper spray
With their mein kampf minds and tiny dicks
With their macho domination and oppression
With their Hitler aggression and plutonium stare
One time
In the nineties
Riding back from Fremantle to Armadale
A Train Nazi with a Constable Care moustache asks me for my ticket and pensioner concession
So I open my wallet to get the ticket out
And there’s a stick in my wallet
A fifty of stinky buds in aluminium foil
And he says
I can see your ganja! I can see your ganja!
So they arrest me
And take me back to Nazi Pig Central
Grand High Pig Reichstag of Perth
And I’m locked up in a cell with some scary looking dudes for a while
Then when they take me out they ask me if I have any more drugs on me
And me, being a sarcastic idiot, I say
‘Yeah, I’ve got a kilo of smack stuck up my ass’
So that was pretty bloody stupid
They strip searched me
And two pigs peered up my asshole in a desperate and somewhat homoerotic search for a mythical kilo of smack
Then they let me put my clothes on
And after two more hours in a cell with the scary dudes
They let me out
Then I had to call my parents to pick me up
They were not amused

bud
Hopping on the train to Queens Park
Sixty bucks in my hand with a heart full of hope, John Lennon spectacles and a Hawaiian shirt
Time to make a deal on covert corners
I get there
The door’s wide open but a guy jumps out of a parked car and asks
‘Are you chasing?’
‘Yeah
Follow him through the doorway
He pulls out a metallic thermos and opens it up
It’s crammed full of sticks
‘How many you want’
‘Two’
I hand over the mullah and secrete the little pillows of happiness in my pocket
Leaving the house, I head for the station
Stop in a park where the old library used to be facing the station and pack a cone
Intake of sweet smoke, so much nicer than tobacco
A haze of lime-green satisfaction descends
The grass is green as a rainforest
The sky is azure bright and unimpeded by clouds
Then I roll a smoke and head for the station
Ten minutes to wait for the train to Oats Street

The Best

Posted: March 16, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

what-is-the-kingdom-of-god.jpg.crop_display

The best of being is sinking into the chill emerald sand
And breathing each scintilla of morality like a martyr-
Then we will know what to do with our pain,
Because we who steal reality are doomed to ask for forgiveness
At the end of every day spent in our oblivious cocoons and,
We who seek forgiveness will question each carriage of paranoia on the train to eternal bliss,
And ride until the end of all fallible things.

No more death: each beginning does not yield an end because each is a fresh bud,
Unique and fragrant and waiting for experience.
Each bud is a manifestation of the Kingdom of God
Where every theologian is a poet
And each moment is eternal,
And blessed because it is fed from the tree of life,
‘And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.’

TransperthTrains-Aseries1Gen-Front
No-one looks their neighbour in the eye
On the train.
What fearful diseases must lurk in the soul of another human being, transmitted with a glance,
That we like sightless sentinels avoid all eye contact
On the train.
We stare at our feet, we stare our phones, we stare at the crappy public service announcement posters,
On the train
‘Next Stop Welshpool.’
Smart phones hypnotize the passengers like spinning mandalas
On the train.
They poke out arcane alphabets with their finger-tips and thumbs,
On the train.
But smart phones are not smart enough to teach community,
On the train.
And only the old or sanity-impaired will talk to you,
On the train.
The pretty girls seem to have some profound and esoteric secret that they will never share,
On the train.
We come to the next stop, some of people get off, a some get on
On the train.
The doors slide open as on star-trek with barely a whistle,
On the train.
And deep within I wish I had the courage to speak some overwhelming profundity about this sorry situation,
On the train.
To leave words hanging in judgement over the hollow loneliness of a carriage full of people,
On the train.
Jerimiah would have said something,
On the train.