cold

you’ll never know, and i’ll never say, and you’ll never know,

and i’ll never show

you where i sleep, or share the depth, of where i

weep and shake and shy away, and

wrap my cold hands and my wrap my cold arms around my cold shoulders and shiver and shiver and shiver and foetally curl myself around the hidden side of my all day’s and my all night’s and my all week’s and my all time’s long wintry sunset, with eyes closed but open, and eyes tight but open, and eyes squeezing but open, and eyes wincing but numb, but numb, still numb, still numb, still

every day

this morning, the sun’s entry on stage brought a burra’s chortle and children’s feet clippering on the polished pines to greet the day;  it’s sunday, and the air’s crisp is like yesterday, and the coffee is like anyday, and it’s velvet silk and satin smooth;  there are smiles stirring inside me as the simple slide of the kitchen window brings a breath of breeze and fragrant flowers;

it’s like this every day you know. today is just the same as every single other day, and every day i choose to be as magic as a simple cool and cozy, lazy sunday morning, and it’s pretty darn great.

hush

hush little girl,
don’t blush don’t cry, don’t
sigh little bird,
don’t fly don’t wait, don’t
hate little snake,
don’t bait don’t hit, don’t
spit little storm,
don’t quit don’t rush, don’t
crush little girl,
don’t brush me off, just hush
my love
just hush, just hush, just hush

sailin’

i’m just wavin’ and flappin’ me gums,
and i’m sailin’ the knots away,
on azurite seas, and denpasar breeze,
i’m groovy and feelin’ like lovin’, i’m likin’
the jink in your jive and shakin’ your vibe,
i’m sippin’ and drinkin’ and rummin’ my way
out of port, and i’m sailin’ and flyin’ and weavin’
and cryin’ and sailin’ the knots away

halves

i do contend that when you look around
all beauty in the world once lost is found
life is what you make of it you see
but when you get fucked over by the Man
again and again it’s really hard to
stay positive, so you can stick your love
y dovey philosophy up your ass

/{!}/

you with the iphone / shut up / dick on the radio / shut up / crying little brat / shut up / grinning idiot / shut up / dole bludger / shut up / no mosque in my street / shut up / mr bus driver / shut up / the war isn’t over / shut up / i don’t want to buy any / shut up / news reader lady / shut up / man in my line / shut up / greenpeace pretender / shut up /  jewellery store hawker / shut up / greek green grocer / shut up / peak oil wanker / shut up / black is not the new black / shut up / the war still isn’t over / shut up / tarot card reader / shut up / facebook junkie / shut up / hippie soap boxer / shut up / h1n1 / shut up / insurance salesman / shut up / weapons of mass instruction / shut up / fat school teacher / shut up / football scandal / shut up / child molester get off my street / shut up / mr presidente / shut up / mr taxi driver / shut up / random acts of kindness / shut up / these don’t fit / shut up / the war still isn’t over / shut up / i should have known / shut up / police brutality / shut up / do you want a longer penis / shut up / put your feet up / shut up / alan jones cancer / shut up / late night party / shut up / can you pass the salt / shut up / so you think you can dance / shut up / the war still isn’t over / shut up / redundancy payout / shut up / global financial crisis / shut up / when will the rain stop / shut up / who’s number one this week / shut up / would you run to the store for milk / shut up / would you like fries with that / shut up / stand for the national anthem please i would but the war still isn’t over so / fuck you

am

/ william

the morning’s first rum doesn’t know
how much i need him to help
me paint, but his brother number
five does

// charles

i find no beer and no milk in
the fridge so i scratch my balls and
sigh to settle for third time used
filter coffee

/// richard

fucking clock buzzzing and {whack!}
and it’s black and the rain drums more
on the tin than a snare brush and
i turn over

lament

on the morning he turned sixty, Peter stood in the shower and looked down.
he thought of Jim Morrison;

All join now and lament the death of my cock
A tongue of knowledge in the feathered night
Boys get crazy in the head and suffer
I sacrifice my cock on the altar of silence

it was then that Peter decided to plan a funeral for his cock.
it was dead to him, and dead to Margaret years ago.
it was a pathetic little slug.
like him.
flaccid and lame.

the strangest combination of laughter and tears echoed against the tiled walls.

remininquished

you own the vacant here,
it’s a bitter lemon, schtucking
my cheeks, my sleep’s
insomnia

with closed doors
& eyes & coffee cradled
i’ll recall & reminisce
all our times fantastic

, lost&found-ness
, safe&sound-ness
, higher ground
but now there’s less, there are

razor arrow fault lines, drawn back, and bullscar
aimed and fired, but they missed their
Mark, and now there’s just a bitter
lemon schtucking swill in my mouth, and you are
remininquished

garnet

hey, you there, garnet girl
bare to me all your swathering
goodness in swayful laughter
and hips
/oh my goodness, i’ve died and gone/
you’re heaven in my vision, in
spades and you
said you want
ed to kiss me again
like you did in
Paradise
last year, where i found
you
looking for a
deventure and
life and love and i
want to kiss
you like that again too

devolution

if you’re reading this,
there’s a good chance that you’re not
a vast obedient
and you’re on the way to
de-coupling
yourself from the false

join
your devolution revolution
that you dream for
our children