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