Friday, March 26, 2010


for all
of its pleasure

as the shore
resists the tide

he still stares
at her picture

looking inwards

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

what was said

from twelve to six foot, fit recovery/dull health wilt with wage slavery/he’s clutching phantom pain groin poverty/to bricks built debt confined tenancy/and on rotting couch scribble verse incessantly/derailed debunked and overwhelmingly fucked/but not laid screwed jumped or even sucked/ha it’s funny how on the best of days the worst of days seem faint/through the nightmare glow spectacle florescent/and convalesce cum recital of Kant/but dream of monsters inside these giants/thousands seeking refuge in A B C or D block/smuggled LSD stop to bounce like pinging pong back and forth/singing a junkie psalm of denial of course/with hope for landfill or the nurse’s cunt/you can’t say that and she’s not the sort/a carpet fetish perhaps or worse/

But I-lodge the mod-f, or was that why/we look at the wall rather than face/demons disguised to manifest a race/against counting sheep in a choice of workplace/100 points to point the identity of lines traced/back to economy not absurd conspiracy/but he’s always drinking thinking whispering to friends/of occult and mechanisms of control/or was that control of mechanisms bodily functions and delusions to rhythm without soul/but sold anxiety to PC fingers tapping relentlessly/techno tracks and DMT/make for mismatched thought patterns serial packs of scratched records and CDs/

and even with a dilated people and jumbled rhyme/we see that beyond writing lines to form poetry/name drops to desperate hypocrisy/we’re all suffocating in this goddamn city/bastion of capitalism that it be/and shit we’re all living in San Quentin/a colonial mining prison/cashed up bogans and patriotic vermin/noongar youth beaten til not just black/refugees unwelcome and workers sacked/and yet convinced of the politics of power to the infinite by etc times etc times etc

but what of this has not already been said/to witness thirty people drunk and well fed/change the room in which they sit/sipping beer, thinking of a post-teen angst fad/of that acquaintance or the comfort of the seats/preparing pretense to consummate the distance so discreet/why waste the breath/of only two times sixty/a moment or less to whisper and repeat/what hasn’t been said

as we sit so quietly and dead