Wednesday, 14 March 2012

lit ref to boot

The music is poisen here
smattering applause
The voices
across the board
a spectrum of varying clarity
the real message
I hear
sounds of the
and the want of escape
wasted in success
This is the age
of project
Smiling Robots
crocodiles disguised
wear suits
and drink champagne
toothpicks like tent pegs
I hear gnashing of teeth
the collective grin
and see hip kids walk by
talking about
how bad is X
but X is so original
and X on the Xbook said
X said X to X
- totally man
Oh my God!
Fucking Hell..!
sun pound on pavement beds
frying sleppers skins
around swollen heads
melting traces of memories
that hurt too much anyway
the eyes
wide and wild
scared & numb
at once
maybe stretch out an arm
and eyes see
and eyes don't
eyes avert
we stinking dogs
Pontius Pilots wash their hands
over again
And I find myself sat here
on the surface
staying safe
scared of the darkness
every time I dive
I get the bends
and everything is ugly
All I want is a God damned joint
toast the smoke
no world peace
not out there
not in here
laxative for souls
listening to the radio
it's not all bad
here on the surface today
just a little
rotten to the core

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

Subiaco Central

Trying to reconjour
a stream of conciousness
because technology doesn't like me
nor do cliches
walking around tables
clearing up plates
asking stupid questions
in the name
of the full service
I see an existence so sad
it'd feel sorry for me
if it felt
and I'd laugh
but not out loud
at the painted faces
at the sad clowns
at the scrutiny
of the 60k plus
late twenty
thirty somthings
and their penchant for dissaproval
amid the same conversation
from the corner of an eye
seeking smudges on cutlery
or a comment that will amuse their workmates
as the homeless Aboriginal lady walks by
just for them

I think about my failings
the ones I can see
and thank God
that I am no success

Friday, 17 February 2012


He musta been six foot
built like a gorilla
digits the size
of cumberland sausage
And he came over to me
on his bike
and he stopped right next to me
he had been past before
and turned around
but now he was right next to me
in my face
and he had a big stupid smile
I realised he wasn't all there
and the tension eased
he was just staring
and smiling
He asked - how is your day?
and I said - Just fine buddy, yourself?
Good - He said
he grabbed my hand with his
big meaty fist
and squeezed it tight
I smiled back and turned it into a handshake
then patted his shoulder
in a polite bid to have my limb returned intact
He musta been six - foot
and built like a gorilla
he grinned wider
and his cumberlands squeezed tighter
- easy fella -
I gently wormed my hand out of his
he put his hand on my chest
I removed it
- Have a good un buddy, I smiled
and patted his shoulder again
He grabbed my wrist
and put my hand to his chest
I took it back with a good yank
as he was still squeezing my wrist
- That'll do champ I said
gave him one last pat on the arm
as if to say
- no harm done, but that's enough now
A few steps away I caught a glance over my shoulder
the big fella was watching me
He still had a dopey smile smacked on his face
I was happy of that
and off I walked home
leaving the big - fella behind me
my face to the sun
train line to the right

Tuesday, 7 February 2012


The day after she left
for Denmark
I took myself to the beach
I was tired
I'd come straight from work
and had no towel
I could feel the sun
destroying me through
a film of salt water
wet to crust
Over the water
a plane flew
carrying a banner
that advertised a shopping centre
they had intruded
but nobody seemed to mind
Sat on the limestone wall
of a garden bed
next to the showers
drip drying in the glare
a girl maybe three years old
was admiring the bees with
a cautious curiousity
'Daddy why do bees like flowers?'
'Cos of the colour and the smell'
and that was that
reminded of a freinds poem
I truly felt
crushed by barbarians
at least
for a little while

Sunday, 29 January 2012

Falling from a horse

I did it again all right
that thing I do
Woke up onto a bottle of hot wine
stewing in the sun
still rolling
supressing what I couldn't remember anyway
half grateful of that
played the fool at Moon cafe
into the second bottle
after the Moon cafe
half a tab
down the hatch
felt like I was dying at first
in the back a little car
stomach churning
palms sweating
mind twisting
testicles retreating
Only one thing for it
into the ocean
still wearing my jeans
already better
we swam to the pontoon
sat there with the setting sun
and wind
and smiling people
completely lost as soon as my feet hit the shore
I looked up and down the beach
they had vanished into thin air
I recognised a kid from the pontoon
told him I was tripping and needed help
he laughed and led me to a group
sitting around an esky
someone threw me a beer
I languished with my hair in the sand
watching the sky
shutting out the bad
breathing in the good
soon familiar faces were back
then at the bookshop
smoking weed in good company
so many words stacked high on shells
the musky odour of text
after some time we continue
crash the party
I talk with too much familiarity
taunt the silk shirt
with the grin of a madman
and play somebodys guitar
while women ooze sexuality
and beam
the sunflower tree sways handsomely
and a billionaire
falls to the ground with an air of melodrama
back home
the look of gentle hurt
stabs in the chest
I try to distract it
theres a gap between us while we sleep
the next day we talk
the next day I listen
It's all been a little too constant
It's not fair
and I concur
Life's a bitch
but fuck she's beautiful

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

It would be easier
to live life
with eyes closed.
Sometimes there's
too much
to see

Just another nothing

I sit in the heat
weighing up
the pros and cons
of a sober day
versus the comfort
of many cold beers
I wonder what the day will
throw my way
I wonder what became
of all those day's
I left behind
and will I ever
actually know