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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Friday, January 31, 2014


new year’s eve 
at the foreshore
looking for fun;
lights flashing
way too bright
for us to see through;
people walking
far too much

for us to handle;
little people

in the playground
simple pleasures;

look up at the stars
see what you choose
to see up there;
walking in the dark
try to remember
where point A is;
watching carefully

eyes firmly fixed
on the road ahead;

lights blurring
more than enough
to distract me;

colours swirl around
in a wave of blood

perception jilted;
feel like I’m floating
above like a cloud

feeling light as air;
the present captured

in the eye of my mind
everything is beautiful;
choose your own adventure
anything is possible

when you open the door
I came over
to spend time
with you
to have fun
doing things
being active
I didn’t
come over
to hear you
tell stories

about your past
long gone
you take me
back to a time
long ago
when you were
fit and healthy

now shackled
by physical pain
you start
to realize
that something
needs to change
time to
take action
begin again
from the

I came over
to do things
with you
to spend time
doing things
not being
I didn’t
come over
for you to tell me
about some movie
the one
you just watched
don’t you realize
I don’t watch
much television

now hiding
behind your habit
you start
to realize
that normal
is a lie
time to
start over
be born anew
start from
the beginning


commodification of New Age ideas
looking at all the shiny gadgets
enthralled by all the men’s toy
you think you are going places
but you’re going nowhere at all

you think that freedom is a mars bar
when you head down to the shops
you’re like a dog playing in the park
in awe of everything nice you see
there's units waiting to be shifted

you think you are in the driver's seat
when you buy all the things you buy
you're like in kid in a lolly shop
in love of all the products you see
it's eye candy of the corporate variety

attraction to more rehashed novelties
banal, dead and devoid of imagination
there’s a price tag waiting to be read
you may think you are getting a bargain
but the price was fixed from the start

you cling to the past as if today was nothing

you toke from the bong as if it were normal
you love to reminisce every single day
as if the past could help you to forget
about the sad state of affairs that is life

but your glory days were over a long time ago
almost half a lifetime has passed since
you feel like you are back there having fun

so you tell the stories over and over again
waiting for another pimp cane for you to buy
another distraction from the shame you feel
and the reasons are the ones you are avoiding
clinging to days that are now dead and buried

yet you tell the stories over and over again

canvases of time
painted in my mind;
future looming large
on a collision course
with ghosts of the past;
a dragonfly buzzes by
under a clear blue sky;
I watch the traffic pass
inhale noxious fumes;
I start to contemplate
the end of times;
this inside out world:
barren as the desert;
blood on our hands
as more innocents die;
a gigantic cesspit
of cadavers and blood;
the shame of it all
our propensity for violence;
sometimes I am ashamed
to be another member
of this wicked human race

Thursday, January 30, 2014

I was there watching
the calm before the storm;

you were there holding
your life in your hands;
clouds looming ominously

wind blowing from the east;
canvass shoes standing
on the upper layer of dirt;
surrounded by absurdity

big boy’s toys, men’s toys;
the glorious here and the now
being painted in my mind;

events turned into etchings
inside of a broken frame;

the perfect view of reality
in all the passing moments;
and the dreams of the future
are but explosions of the past;
I was there watching films
starring myself about myself;

we only know about ourselves
when it’s all said and done

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

I saw you
take the right turn
but you don’t know
what right or left means.
at the intersection
I summed up the situation.
I decided to
step forward
straight through the traffic.

there are well worn paths
there are random paths
I would choose random
every time I had to choose

I knew it all along
that nothing lasts forever
and good things
don’t last for very long

there are ugly things
there are magical things
I would choose dreams
every time I had to choose

I knew it from the start
that no one moves for nothing

my favours
not reciprocated

Sunday, January 26, 2014

dirty syringes in the playground
we both sighed in disgust
merry-go-around, monkey bars,
plastic slides and yellow sand
we climbed to the top of the platform
where the slides began
anchors away, down the slide
simple pleasures for jaded minds
it felt like magic again
just like it used to feel
all those years long ago
the merry-go-around next
head spin like the first cigarette
this was almost a halcyon day
worries floated away for hours
simple pleasures for tired minds

walking barefoot
scorched pavement
sweat pouring
we decided to keep running
chasing butterflies
searching for the most beautiful one
in the perfect moment,
the holy moment
I threw a glance in its direction
simply breathtaking,
my soul united with eternity
as light as air, floating on air
catching glimpses of a 
better world
we decided to rest our  weary heads
to absorb the here and now
contemplating eternity
and it was a beacon of hope

Saturday, January 25, 2014


obedience is death
walk in a straight line

I’m a pimp
I’m a stud
I’m a punk

punk’s not dead

I’m a gangster
I’m a B boy
I’m a goth
cut my wrists

I’m a baller
I’m a princess
I’m an emo
hows' my hair

nolstagia is death
relive past glories

I’m a pimp
I’m a stud
I’m a punk

punk’s not dead

I’m a gangster
I’m a B boy
I’m a goth
cut my wrists

I’m a baller
I’m a princess
I’m an emo
how's my hair

bowing down is death
prey to your godhead

I refuse to obey or bow down
just the way I like it
I’m in the here and now
just the way I like it

blood spilling
bombs dropping
now that’s progress

turning boats

buying them back

those illegals

can’t get in

international anarchy

basket case
racist state
our nation
our country

our land

our culture
our way of life

how dare they

make incursions

borders blocked



not forthcoming
on these matters

so much more

can be said

should I say


I don’t use machinery
the modern pestilence
I attack with words
and they are truth
jaded propaganda

you were smoking
over there,
blowing smoke
in my direction
hedonistic pleasures

you were sitting there
dicing with eternity
suicide wish
and I was there
doing the same

people pressing buttons
what happened
to the good old days
pen to paper
going out of fashion

getting wasted
on this ludicrous day
cogs and tools and fools
it’s full of them
this insane world

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

like a film without a climax
there's a cool wind blowing
like a book with no ending
the fun never ends
poor impulse control
the path to oblivion
summer sunburn
acrimonial thoughts
there are no boats
saturation of secrecy

I try to engage
only to find I cannot
fall in line
cannot get with the program
a closet full of shame
a teacup full of regrets
the future awaits
the man who chooses
and subversion

lived in the past:
reminiscing over
past glories
lived in the future:
fearing the uncertainty
forgetting to be mindful
of all that's good
all that which brings hope
in the here and now
however fucked up
the whole world seems
let's just have fun and forget
just forget everything
because we want
to escape from
that which challenges
the cerebellum
too much to contemplate
so it's easier
just to pretend

so we pretend

there are flowers
in the mind of the dreamer
transforming into gold
or the perceptual equivalent
neurons fire like a cannon
those flowers are special
they blossom in the winter
twisting reality inside out
weathered parchment
containing secrets and lies
people always lie
as if it’s in our nature
lights flaring luminously
there are flowers 

painted on the wall
perceptually normal
when colours are the new normal
functionally challenged
sinking into oblivion
these are not the halcyon days
the halcyon days were beautiful
I pine away waiting for

the halcyon days to return
you cannot tell me it's alright
you cannot tell me we don't hide information
you cannot tell me I am free
you cannot tell me the holocaust was a hoax
you cannot tell me Hiroshima was justified
you cannot tell me that there's no global warming
you cannot tell me there are no boats
you cannot tell me I am a bludger with no motivation
you cannot tell me I am defeated
you cannot tell me this isn't class war
you cannot tell me the apocalypse is not far away
you cannot tell me how to live my life
we tell ourselves
it's going to be alright
everything will work out
subject to physical laws
free choice creating karma
stepping into the unknown
though it feels familiar
you just cannot escape
without your wallet in your pockets
buy, buy. consume some more
everything is going to be OK
master of our destinies?
or subject to feeling outside of our range
aiming at the new aristocracy
being real, acting subversive

Everyday Repeats

repeat, repeat
it's always the same
some ludicrous game
watch your life
flashing in front
of your eyes

press repeat
similar sameness
there's always a price
to get what you want
a hedonist's dream
cross that path
getting behind
all the time

I am here
why, why; why not
a capricious mind
wasting yet more time
let your life
pass you right by
out of range

chase the dragon
as a favour
for the man

with the ingredients
corroding your lining
choices dictate
where we all go

we tell white lies
but who is
lying to who
could we be
lying to ourselves
every time
we tell ourselves
that it's OK
everything timed
and standardised
lose your mind
wasting time
and it repeats
over and over again

Thursday, January 16, 2014



I abhor your ways, the way you smile
when there’s nothing to smile about in particular
you simply obey, obey, stand in line
no, you mustn’t break with order
don’t you dare step out of line
everything will be ruined if you step out of line

you unquestioningly digest their lies
believe what they want you to believe
a cog in the machine, a slave to conditioning

you work hard all day like clockwork
never thought  to question why
you push the repeat button over and over again

in bed with the man who cracks the whip
to keep you in line, keep you hungry
you desire to be like the rest
you mustn’t go against the flow

that would be an act of folly
you mustn’t step out of line

or fear upsetting your God
and God wants you to buy, buy, buy

you submit to boredom
can’t find anything to fill your mind
instead of consuming spectacles

your boredom breeds depression
a bourgeois luxury of the developed world
you take for granted the privilege
an entitlement complex of the highest degree
unaware you have won the roulette
while the losers die from pestilence

if they don’t starve to death first

late at night you start to feel it
but can’t quite place your finger on it
the emptiness, the lack of meaning
in the sorry tale that is your day to day life
then you wake up, only to do it all again

to work like a dog, chasing after the perfect bone
to daydream your way until your next holiday trip
you spin hours into nothing at all
only to spend your wages on thing you don’t need

you are the grease that keeps the system well oiled
your participation is the holiest of acts
according to their dictates, a prescription for life

you smile again to keep in order to keep the peace
you gladly accept and celebrate your lot in life
and the lack of free time to create something, anything
creation is the domain of the dreamer and the infantile

you must be decent, contribute to the economy
if you’re not like them all then you are a useless deviant
so you keep towing to line in order to be accepted
you've lost the game, sealed your fate in the sand

Wednesday, January 15, 2014


talking about me
talking to me
I’m really happy
quite ecstatic

nothing means anything
nothingness truth
double depression

everything for sale
except wisdom
modern condition