like a film without a climax
there's a cool wind blowing

like a book with no ending

the fun never ends

hedonism,
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
responsibility
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

everyday
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
Coca-Cola-nis-a-tion
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

BOURGEOIS LUXURIES

 

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

MENTAL ASYLUM

talking about me
talking to me
schizophrenia

I’m really happy
quite ecstatic
bipolar

nothing means anything
nothingness truth
double depression

everything for sale
except wisdom
modern condition

modern alienation

 

 

ALIENATION EYES
ALIEN FACES
EVERYBODY TRYING TO BE SOMEBODY
YOU TAKE EVERYTHING
BEAT US DOWN
TELL US LIES

OUR ALIENATION
TEACHES US REASONS
WE WOULD REASON TO BE TRUE

CATAONIC POSE
DUMBFOUNDED FACES
EVERYDODY STARTING TO TAKE SELFIES
ADDED TO THE CANON
VANITY
LOVE OURSELVES

YOUR MEDICATION
NUMBS ALL THE CHAOS
ACCEPT CHAOS TO BE TRUE

ALIENATION TOWN
ALIENS RUNNING
WE KILL EVERYTHING
BLOCKED SIDE STREETS
GAFFA TAPE

CONSUMER SENSATION
TIED UP AND PASSIVE
CONDITIONED TO BE PASSIVE

SHARKS

take me to the other side, 

where the grass is greener
and the past, present and future no longer exist
blended into sands of time, eternity
time is a statue, standing still

there's hammer head sharks
swimming though a river of blood
spreading forth from the waterfall
the destination unknown

cloud are floating gently above,
as I tilt my head to the heavens above
now I'm feeling light as air
comfortably numb and dead inside
who could ask for more

there's hammer head sharks
swimming though a river of blood
spreading forth from the waterfall
the destination unknown

I'm hiding from the light beyond
my mind is as clear as water
I could not feel more ecstatic
you take me to a better place
where pain slowly drifts away

there's hammer head sharks
swimming though a river of blood
spreading forth from the waterfall
the destination unknown

I knew from day one that I could never leave
you've got me under your darkest spell
I knew from day one that I could never leave
who am I kidding? I knew it all along

I was so hopelessly smitten by you
in love with the way you made me feel
when the chips were down
you were always there for me
through the thickest of times
I was so deeply in love with you
but those feelings are fading
like the sun in to the horizon at dusk

you used to pick me up each day
fill my life with joy and euphoria
you used to pierce my soul with relief
and moments of rapturous dreams
but now, the honeymoon is over
and I am no longer so fond of you
I can no longer stand the sight of you
you make me feel all dirty inside

I've had enough of your deceitful ways
all the truths you spoke were hyperbole
you lie to yourself and you lie to me
I lie to myself when I say I need you
the more I need you, the less I want you
you are the harbinger of destruction
you destroy everything in your path
you've almost completely ruined me

although I am still attached to you
I will find a way to rid myself of you
you've got me under you spell
but I will one day shake you off my back

TIDES OF CHANGE

in a heartbeat, another year has come to pass. 

yet, the prison of limbo is still the status quo.
is retrograde motion the way to progress
or have the wheels already been set in motion?
new year's resolutions are for the feeble minded.
change starts from within and it starts here and now,
for everything is always in motion: the only constant.
moments, snapshots and glimpses are all we have
to anchor our experiences to the ocean of (un)reality.
our naïveté drives us to search in vain for answers
to questions concerning the purpose of existence,
hogtied to the sinking ship of linear perception.
the chaos of infinity is pleading to be uncovered,
waiting for us to transcend our perceived limitations.
the future offers us a smörgåsbord of opportunity,
from which we can create something breathtaking.
this dilettante is sick of starting things I do not finish.
from now on, I will climb hills before scaling mountains.

Somebody Comes to This Place

It is an old story.
 
Somebody comes to this place
and grows up in the shadows of buildings
and stars and other somebodies

Somebody learns to love:
to know intimately the houses
of the spirit and the flesh.

Somebody learns to hate and kill
and scream and curse like hell.

Somebody learns to be afraid and lonely
and sad, and to know the secret
of darkness.

Somebody learns to like the rain,
and things which are soft and green,
and hot food and cold water,
and the blanket of sleep,
and the music of the land and the sky.

Somebody learns so many things.

It is an old story.

Somebody comes to this place
and lives
and then goes away forever.

-Richard Brautigan

MOTHER MENDICANT'S FINAL SOLUTION

without foresight, indulging is retrospective justifications,
we set the harlot hounds of desire free
and the schism we use depleted uranium to maintain
is tomorrow's cataclysmic clash of corrupted canines,
searching for the bone of truth inside a river of dingbat dogma,
dressed up as a pretentious liberating raison d'être

it's high noon as the nuclear rapist claims another victim of complacency
and vacuum-in-fear vampires make their penultimate pilgrimage
to the boneyard of progress with fangs freshly sharpened
there's no need to reinvent Terman's eugenics paradise,
for the maternal mistress has perfected the design
of her super-deluxe all purpose civilisation cleaner
soon, there will be no reasons left for her to cry her sulfur tears
the playground of linear perception: torn asunder
the pharmacy of short lived fantasies: torn asunder

on this retrograde, radioactive day of judgement,
mother mendicant will finally claim her sweetest revenge
in the end, all things flow back to the source

and we saw...
crypto-fascist order sold as democracy
the representation is an actor's presentation
dropped from the heavenly realms of decadent info-sucking
what we believe is what we want to believe

hold your heads up high brothers and sisters
the champions of freedom are headed our way
drink through styrofoam syringes
then pick up your life saving remote control
it's going the be the ride of your death

step outside: they're coming with their happy bombs
let the shrapnel cleanse the dirt, sold to us
and if you leave the room before your turn
then you must be here because you can't see properly

FUCK EDDIE McGUIRE

haunting memories of a hammer and a sickle and a red star
a vision of rational disorder set against capital's vision of rational disorder
the razor-sharp blades of machete mayhem
the dogma dung of utopian visions
sacrifice and devotion to the hands of despotism's allure
mechanise the promotion of the tools of treason forever
and prohibit the automatons from entertaining the "third" choice
so adherence to information from neon signs is now the first voice

tell-tale signs of epilepsy
powdered dreams in bottled pepsi
background foreground there's no escape
from the soldiers of mental rape

alien anecdotes of a mortgage and a new car and a new w(l)ife
a story of functional delusion set against centralised theories of vanguardist illusions
the motorcade noose of mobile phone comfort
the poo-hole plug play of elitist forces
standardise all relations for the defense of the family unit
victimise and build prisons for the dissidents able to see through it
and prohibit the greased-up monkeys from contemplating the "third" choice
so prescription to (dis)information from blank screens is still the first voice

defer time to epilepsy
glowing highs from uncle Eddie
prime time crime time there's no escape
from the shit stains on Eddie's face

decentralise now motherfuckers!

PRESCRIPTION FOR DECENT LIVING (abridged version)

BIRTH



SCHOOL

JOB

MARRIAGE

MATERIALISM

MORTGAGE

DEATH

Senryū Inspiration

Same old temptations

Wasting time, wasting money
Future looming large


Sense of adventure
Walking with purpose at speed
What is the purpose?


Handcuffed by Harry
Chasing an illusion of joy
It's just not the same


Harsh consequences
for a moment of relief
Nobody escapes


Weather is changing
The wind of abstinence
Free the mind from junk


This is the last time
Heroin is so passé
Change is possible

our love affair with
cheap goods and convenience
is the glue that binds
the poor to poverty
and the catalyst
that makes the rich richer

PUTIN'S RUSSIA

this is our gulag

and we'll do whatever we want
you are nothing but dogs
so we'll treat you worse than dogs

if the pipes burst
then fix it yourselves

if you complain
we'll turn off the hot water

if you want shorter hours
we'll increase the quotas

if you read books
you'll cop a daily beating

if you are sick
you're still ok to work

if you want food
we'll give you stale bread

if you speak out
we'll punish everyone
don't speak to her
don't even look at her

it was all her fault
you are encouraged to
give her a beating
sabotage her work

don't you dare speak out again

http://freepussyriot.org/

A PERFECT FIT

drowsy as drowsy can be

vision blurred
unable to focus
temptations swinging
back and forth
like an angry pendulum
poppy seeds transmogrified
walking assiduously
waiting impatiently

regression
return to the past
self-deceit
disappointment
an ocean of regrets
and the choices
I have made
are killing free time
reinforcing folly

beholden to a perfect fit
the bane of my existence
history repeating
a ball deflated
unable to shake off
the monkey on my back
it stalks me unremittingly

LEST WE FORGET

another grand final

done and dusted
heartbreak
in Fremantle
for the Dockers
as the masses
prepare to drown
their sorrows
not caring
or unaware
that 20 people
recently drowned
not caring
that the PM
has shunned
the media
but previously
promised
to disclose
details
of any boat
sinkings

back to the pub
for the heartbroken

POVERTY

shoes $6


t shirt $2
jeans $20
jumper $15
socks negligible
when I went out in public today
I masked my nakedness
with $43 worth of attire
(not including
my $150 spectacles)
all purchased brand new
out of poverty
and lack of conscience
all made in some sweatshop
in some developing country

what would brand name adorning
yuppie wannabes think of me?

for all I care

180 Degrees

I should have seen it coming
the first time I did that u-turn
eschewing my intended destination
for an old familiar gravelly route

now that the funds have dried up
like a creek in the middle of summer
money is the least of my issues
think I bit off more than I can chew

like a horse with a broken foot
I can barely move to save my life
no longer moving purposefully forward
like I had been most of this year

now unable to carry a proper load
responsibility has gone out the window
barely in control of my own destiny
the stark realisation is upon me

the future is fast approaching
I don't want to be old and broke
bereft of hope, ambition and direction
beholden to the ghosts of yesterday

I should have seen it coming

I never thought
I'd go back there
not again, not this time
but she's got me
under her crooked spell

the curse of idle time
spun into a web of deceit
these escapist tendencies
enough to paralyse
is there no escape
from this escapism?

a deviant hammerhead
without a handle
my dirty hands
almost unwashable

a visit to the subway
to break the cycle
or rapid free fall
from dark clouds?
another dusty closet
full of dirty secrets

decision time
now pending

THE ACTION MAN

darkened leaves, a forest of triffids
man of the cloth in a former life:
his antiquated weltanschauung
based on fear, xenophobia,
intolerance, reductionism
and trickle down economics

he sees not desperate humans
but only people smugglers
and SIEV X after SIEV X
the work of vile people smugglers
out of sight, out of mind
gag placed on Santa's little helpers
forbidden to speak by the Führer
not even a cryto-fascist cretin
but faschistischen über alles

he knows women well, 
so well that he appointed himself
to oversee their affairs
while appointing half a woman
to sit in his front cabinet
Julie just may be a hermaphrodite
concupiscent incubus in the dead of night

in their comfortable, cloistered lives, 
they have learned much about the world
Bridget and Frances proclaiming:
daddy believes in the sanctity of love
between Adam and Eve, but not Steve
his own sister a deviant lesbian,
yet he still graciously speaks to her
oh what a paragon of tolerance he is,
devoid of prejudice and hate

his entourage of science talking folk
declare that climate change
is a fictitious phenomenon
concocted by a fringe lunatic left
to slap extra taxes upon the bourgeoisie
with mother nature nixed from the equation,
there is no need for a science minister

let us rejoice in his appointment to the lodge
for we can trust him to instill real change:
the annihilation of award wages,
the stopping and or buying back of boats,
the harassment of disability pensioners,
the destruction of the carbon tax, 
the lowering of company tax,
the scrapping of fiber to the house broadband
and the list of atrocities goes on and on
all such policies designed, of course
to aid his friends Rupert, Gina and Twiggy, etc.
enter: the corporate fellatio king

welcome to hell, my fellow 'strayans
now, who the fuck voted for Abbot?

TIGHT ROPE

I'm losing control yet again

unable to resist temptations
that I thought were dead and buried

the fool inside of me
has taken control the reigns
as I regurgitate more lies
beholden to a substance
that used to control my every move

but there's no substance
to the substance
a pool of follysome yearning
floating in the toilet bowl

I wonder to myself
why I have chosen to walk the path
of death, of pestilence
yet again, stupidity on repeat

now, it's out of my system
with floating chunks of shame
in the recesses of the toilet bowl
violently allergic to water

and I know all good things
must come to an end
just as bad things
come at a stupendously heavy cost

yet again, I am walking a fine line
on the verge of falling
off the tight rope, I have been
trying to cross, blindly
while convincing myself
that everything will be OK
when it's not alright
and definitely not acceptable

yes, all good things
must come to an end
may this warning be a lesson
on how not to walk

from now on, I will be sensible,
approach each day with joy
and restraint and positive intention

history does not have to repeat itself
I am the master of my own destiny
the sooner I come to terms with this
the quicker my path to healing

I shall give it a real shot
and I shall overcome,
or at least die trying

may I be kind to myself
and the future be kind to me
in return for my efforts

I shall be kind to myself

BOGAN SPOTTING

at the shops

I was on the lookout
for any signs
of boganism
from tribal tattoos
to a walking billboard
buying protein products
most people were “normal”
where were all the bogans?
still at work?
at home
beating up their partners?
I’m glad it was not yet past 5
otherwise they would
be out in droves
waiting for the opportune time
to glass some cunts or poofs
yes, I survived

PLASTIC NEVER DISAPPEARS

the plastic we consume

ends up consuming us

as we blindly buy shit

made in China

living beyond our means

on this matter

much more can be said

but there are times

woven through the replication

of history's ills and mishaps

when words are superfluous

FEAST OR FAMINE?

the same old tiresome themes

exhausted to the point of cliché
although I am fundamentally honest
in a naïve kind of way
I was forced to creatively lie
in order to preserve
my Chinese takeaway meals
I passed by the skin of my teeth
momentarily able to suppress my naïveté

there shall be another famine
as there shall be another feast
I would rather choose famine
for the feast is exorbitantly priced

where to from here?

restraint and unfetterd creativity
stealing time and killing boredom
(for boredom is counter-revolutionary)
and refusing to fall prey to depression
(for it is but the extension of boredom
in a consumerist capitalist society)

may the famine destroy the feast
the self-destructive tendencies
of a  meal, which dishes out apathy,
disillusionment and complacency

WASH BAGS

tall poppies transfigured

hands shaken

a done deal

now unbecoming

and pretentious

as may be the case

I am not the only one

the harsh reality

back to square one

abstinence

but a fleeting dream

of brighter yesterdays

now dissolved

into a wash bag

of nothingness

alongside

every other wash bag

neatly tucked away

for times of desperation

this late night dalliance

with some words, rhetoric

are but a stone

in the grand scheme of things

a stone nonetheless

unfettered creativity

the enemy of boredom

an end to boredom

awaits me

on the other side

where wash bags

were once full

WHAT IS POETRY?

(originally created on a typewriter)

poetry is based on formula
poetry is base like peasants
poetry is based on words and words
poetry is the taste of wise men
poetry is a waste of energy
poetry is waste of my time
poetry is base like anarchy
poetry
lottery
lobotomy
dichotomy
psychology
complacency
the fear in me
the enemy
poetry is based on honesty
poetry is base like boat scum
poetry is based on (in)sanity
poetry, the place of freedom

i consider myself to be
i consider myself not to be
i consider myself to be
i consider myself not to be

2007

AN APPOINTMENT HAS BEEN MADE FOR YOU

(Dissident Poetician's anti-art manifesto)


a light radiates from the birth of nothing
and the murder of the status symbols you revere.
the pain and the anger of a youth of fascist constraints
manifests into the homicidal tendencies you do well to suppress.
this pain is the pain of the incapacitation
of the creative desire to destroy bourgeois culture.
by shedding the blood of imbecilic make-up queens you pass the rapist's test!

piss on the dreams of functional insanity
with a Molotov cocktail of Valium and heroin!
I am the dog you kicked with banal trendy cruelty.
kill you with a dash of truth and consume the cadaver.
this despot has had a gutful of Disneyfied scenes!
I've killed you all a million times in my wet dreams!

2004-2010

FENCES

a fence to keep them in
a fence to keep who out?

there's a riot in the kitchen
man sews his lips together
there's a riot in the mess hall
man strikes out, fit of hunger

there's a fire on the roof top
man cuts his wrist in despair
there's children in the prison
child draws a picture of fences

a fence to jeep them in
a fence to keeps who out?
 
there's an outbreak of depression
man sews his lips together
there's a wave of desperation
man inflicts himself with self harm

there's a delay in the process
broken people left in limbo
there's no end to persecution
man flees only to be locked up

a fence to keep them in
a fence to keeps who out?

and they cannot stonewall the call of freedom
on the other side: much love and compassion

from Maribyrnong: AZADI

 

from Villawood: AZADI

 

from Port Hedland: AZADI

 

from Perth Airport: AZADI

 

from Coonawarra: AZADI

 

from Wickham Point: AZADI

 

from Curtin: AZADI

 

from Scherger: AZADI

 

from Yongah Hill: AZADI

 

from Manu Island: AZADI

 

from Christmas Island: AZADI

 

from Naru: AZADI

 

and they cannot stonewall the call of freedom

on the other side: much love and compassion

 

start the riot
no more silence

 

THE FOOL'S NOSTALGIA

a disheveled room filled with junk

blunted needles in a hay stack

walking purposefully with promptitude
through rain, hail or shine
those were our halcyon days
a convivial period of unremitting adventure

nostalgia for yesteryear's pandemonium
fraught with danger at every junction
a debauched period of stultifying decisions
dire ramifications catch up with us all

this will be the final time
the last taste, she tells herself

despair temporarily assuaged
self-deceit now unveiled
a vicious circle reinforced
more than merely a waste of time

and we are in the same sinking boat
going nowhere and going there fast

this shall not be my future
the last time, I told myself

only the fortunate few come out unscathed
if only it were fools who reminisce
but she certainly is far from a fool
and I believe myself not to be a fool

the last time will be the final time
so we would like to tell ourselves

MARK OF THE RABBIT

late night bout of insomnia
once shy, twice bitten by Sir Jeffrey
creature of the night flustered
cigarettes and English tea
rice cakes and water
the nauseating aftermath
of a rampaging war hammer
impromptu dinner emptied
bloodied spaghetti puddles
filtered water flowing freely

slumber gods still denying entry
a steaming slag pile of junk
battered, fighting a losing battle
scratching itches arising spontaneously
I feel like I am doing time
waiting for words to help me forget
a creative burst: the consolation
my weary head tilted downward

oh, how much I now regret waiting
waiting then for the man to come
waiting now for insomnia to concede
syringes long emptied and blunted

it's going to be a long night
you can bet your life, it is

ALIENATION SYMPHONY

a cacophony of shoes

shuffling in near synchronicity

a congregation of wage slaves

heading off for another day on repeat

to witness such scenes first hand

is a phenomenon alien to me nowadays

for I do not follow the same deadly rhythms

conversely, I was heading back home

I spent the night in an orgy of gutter excess

beer bottles, bongs and syringes

enough to make the aliens frown

no, I do not follow the same rhythms

I dance to the beat of disillusioned escapism

it’s not the same

jilted joy

same old sensations

diluted

a resplendent con job

spare time nixed

sacrificial lamb

innocence defiled

lost mine long ago

 

presently not present

floating on nails

blunted syringes

darkness in the light

vanquished faculties

lost it long ago

palm leaves rustling

a whispered cacophony

indeterminacy

sonic rebellion

 

waiting in the wings of desire

it’s only one phone call away

 

sunlight piercing through

a congregation of callous clouds

sky porn on display

for the perverse to notice

 

waiting in front of a screen

it’s only one phone call away