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posted on January 27, 2015 at 10:58 pm
Photo on 27-01-15 at 10.09 PM

white flood

i’m glowing in the dark baby

i came in out the rain

the sea and the salt have rusted my metals

in weed and in foam now let me adorn you

the clinging brine has swept into my eyes and blindsided me

the rushing sand that comes with the storm

the coldness of the onset of the drop

temperature plummets out of the night sky

chemical smell of the fix on bright paper

i chart the rise and fall of civilisations within a single drop

i am only the messenger sent out who forgets the message

in a sudden flash i am revealed turquoise and grotesque

in meaningless symbols a download into your sweet head

in rambling storeys let me describe my fathers house

in trails of vapoured souls a fabulous picture emerges

in dells and dales we will walk with the beloved one

in frequent squalls the winds will reach 100 knots and undo them all

in a laneway of a street i met up with an old friend in for the long hall

in a bar where lovers drink milk of amnesia and touch each others faces

in a vacant lot a lot of strange things were going on

i come to you as before damp and bewildered

ashore for the night my uniform is lost

a miracle in the darkness has increased my appetite

the more i have the hungrier i become

goodbye to sugar goodbye to wine

goodbye to honey goodbye to awful things

the rain has a peculiar sound and it makes everything so quiet

i am so alone in my room full of odds and ends

no evens or beginnings in sight

the night is my lovely friend though i know it tho its young

drifting swirling storms i welcomed you with opened arms

the starfish in rockpools are slightly trembling as shots hit the surface

i am embraced by the tide under a wave i promise to be braver

i am drowned in the wrecked bed of devouring dreams  streaming live

the black waters hammer the land i cant say i really planned to stay

in lyonesse i knew a beautiful spell much less than yesterday

your window ever open someday maybe i will magically reappear

bringing you diamonds from the minds and life from a spear

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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posted on January 26, 2015 at 9:59 pm
deep summer

deep summer

tonight of all nights

tonight when i should be working working working

i slip down to the piers and jetties among the fisherman

sitting in the gentlest softest rain that falls from the white night sky

in the softest touch on my face infinite droplets

my black umbrella above like a crow i go along the bridges

under wavering lights dimly humming with moths

the spray drifts to earth slower than snow

a fugitive from myself i slink into the alleyways and trees

i shrink from my shadow which almost cannot be seen

i reach in my pocket and caress the raised ridges of a credit card

the water in my shoes is warm i slosh along then pleasantly

the label in my shirt sometimes scratches my neck and distracts me

everything i see or feel or hear keeps passing through me

i love everyone i see although it is very very dark now

the loving rain coaxes the plants from the soil

the loving sun pulls the water up from the sea

the merciful clouds raining their miraculous gifts

sometimes lightning thunder and hail but not tonight

under my own authority i have skived off work

i run across vast coastal plateaus soaked through my nine lives

people stop me to say things but the lovely rain muffles the voices

i look at their faces so soft and wonderfully dim

under the arc of the clouds

under the blankets of a  hazy darkness

cars streak past in street with gurgling gutter

impression of drain moving under us swollen in flood

impression of some beautiful cat eating some bird

impression of sobbing child about to give up forever

my encyclopaedic brain with many pages missing

i abandon my boots barefoot on the pavements

walking and walking wherever i’m going

impossibly quiet in the lanes near the sea

i suddenly wish i was home

alone in my scruffy room with guitars and pastels

and the sound of my fridge purring away in the heat

i would sit at my keyboard and type type type

i would come up with something

i’d be safe and i’d be warm

i could lay down and sleep

and then

i would be free

 

 

 

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posted on January 24, 2015 at 9:07 pm
gimme yer hands

gimme yer hands

my friends we have lived through this night over and over

aftershave and winebars

a thousand cigarettes later

you sitting down on a beach talking to some girls

when they ask you your name

you cannot remember

the evening has overwhelmed you hip and unexpected

the whorl of time unravelling slow as it does

squashed into a booth its hard to read the menu

alone under the creaming stars its vertiginous suddenly lurching

people scream over the din

at the idiot inside me who nods and grins

and agrees with their multi chewed off sins

i guffaw and i shout waving money about

somewhere outside myself someone hovers watching

the streets crawling with cars black silver white

i exit through a door in the wall

we walk along through streets of memory

laughing out loud at nothing in particular

we walk through the shadows cast by towers and sphinxes

the bridge in your gardens bright with pantheon decorations

learning to embrace south east asia

i accepted these monsoons and these buddhas as my own…

in the warehouse downtown

they are watching yachts racing in emerald seas

i long to be free of these old days and their films

i sit under coloured lanterns drinking saki in the village precinct

i drive my sleek car to fantastic parties

degenerating into sordid glamourous orgies

i pull out my triple golden cards i am gained admittance to pleasurable nights

with bankless banking i summon money from the static into my pocket

i give arms to the poor who are rich in memory and in hope

in a backroom over a deal i feel real lucky i’m a singer

as someone counts out the fifties shifty eyes fall upon me

but i come with my words they have all heard

it calms them to hear the sweet music in the air

over a coffee by the ocean i over hear them plot a crime

they invite me to write the music for their knavery

life is surreal when youre a surrealist

hey its saturday night what do i care?

i let myself be driven on long seaside boulevards

in the back where i sat indulged in the view

the salty air flew past us healing and wholesome

a strike of empathy

as a plane in the sky sounds like stravinsky

there are get-togethers up and down my street

booze fuelled merriment and dissent

paddy wagons cruise laneways and alleys

in a lift we go up to a suite in the skyline

they jump out offering you the fucking moon if you want it

soon youre relaxing by a pond in a faux forest

curvaceous dakini like beings sit and chat to you

in charming accents soft and demur

can we just check your nsw driving licence ? they say

can you tell us the expiry date on your visa?

dishevelled you stumble out of the elevators

disoriented in the oriental bent of the cherry blossoms on clark street

you wander into a seven eleven and order a rissi frutti

the queue softens a little as you bid your adieu to your few friends

you can see the glittering coast at the end of the road

casinos and motels and white haciendas with metallic shutters

the drugs are kicking in all over sydney right now

as an empath to the stuff i am drowned in somebody elses rush

like it or not my heartbeat increases in the rushes own hush

i reach for a light in the dark

our hands touch for a moment

but then youre in another room

gossipping loudly with the indian major and the lady from greece

i could hear their stupid laughter after all the noise ceased

on the balcony with a cocktail with a funny name like total control

it had 8 white spirits rolled in the punch bowl

the sea fog rolls in drawn upon by the expiring heat of the day

saturday night rapidly eroded as sunday morning wilfully extrudes

in the mirror on the deck i am looking at the ruin of my face

the city in the distance one way

and out to sea a few odd lights

the air is so delicious you are drunk on your third breath

the night promises forever as it hurtles to its midnight

3 hours only remaining in your game that you play with someone elses name

in the park by the boardwalk we stopped and talked above the rain

i turned and said goodbye it was quicker than having to lie again

you stood there as if for good there

in the coolness of the sand

the sea begins to understand the land

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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posted on January 20, 2015 at 11:31 pm
azimuth velocities

azimuth velocities

hazy azure pool in evening garden

we dip below the surface far down there thinking

impressions of other summers

come rushing into ending

chlorine nighted cloak

power of invisibility

the slam of the wave you caught goodbye

motels courtyards with statues of the david you said

the palms are almost royal said somebody else

in a fish n chip shop standing in the queue

a former mermaid before myrrh made her see

she saw our land before we set foot on this shore

the pavilion like an colonial indian palace

history on the ocean that laps rocks into sand

the crabs run into green crevices waving their claws

the windows of houses you have never entered

amidst the debris a fortune never claimed

among all that wreckage one thing to remember

i started to say it yet then i forgot

one thing to take with you

but it fell by some wayside

in a chasm one day i’ll stumble upon it

i’m sure

 

 

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posted on January 19, 2015 at 10:55 pm
dope vignette

dope vignette

i hang out my clothes on the line

on a still grey day

it is exactly the right temperature according to my skin

some soft summer i move in

garfish swim through the sea pool

then raspberries and banana

coffee no sugar

smoke the good bush

lovely music from somewhere

drifting through the universes

beyond all chagrin

the clouds are white and curling about

they billow above the billows below

life is quiet in the empty communal garden

the bees half asleep even as they hum through the air

the pollen guiding them everywhere

i go inside so dark and cool

i lay on a bed of dreams and wait

beautiful dreamer a wake unto me

the pleasant fall into the mind

yeah take me somewhere else for a while

i am out of ideas

and its time to take time

 

 

 

 

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posted on January 15, 2015 at 10:19 pm
jaundiced singer

jaundiced singer

 

 

roses the smell of attar

statuettes of beautiful saints

a yacht appears on a painted horizon

tiny box containing heart

figurine of exalted god in pranayama

the delicate taste of the rain

the morning i will return again

the rivulet floods feeding the roots of an oak

bespoke reeds complete with a swan

a signet asleep in the cloak of the lake

 

 

 

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posted on January 15, 2015 at 12:23 am
shadows of nights

shadows of nights

imagine the amniotic universal fluid

holding everything in its courses

planets all spinning and moving and turning

everything racing forward with everything else

we are not where we were 5 years ago my friends

those cosmic rays have filled my head with their blaze

the stars are not fixed

feel us hurtle along

careening into song

 

i float through seaside night a white film

my senses dimmed i saw the moon rimmed by the sea

i saw the gardens miraculous in crimson green

i feel the tide change down by the shore

i am now alone more and i paw the air

i take off my clothes and slunk through a dark

the memories of these roads cloaks me in its glow

the refrain from the drains as if singing swollen with the rains

 

at the cafe today i realise with dismay i’m already losing my way

like a moebius strip my mind was ripped and reassembled with a twist

my skull which contains everything withins its corridors

decorated with eyes and mouths the fetish at the crossroads of Desire

i remain at the entrance tapping a wire

Sycorax the witch seized me by the chin and she look in

good boy… she says with her  sexy old grin

and then

good boy..!

again

 

 

 

 

 

 

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posted on January 10, 2015 at 9:22 pm
colourfast

colourfaster

soft grey day

sleepy sleepy man i sleep all day man

it says its raining i whisper to a black pillowcase

i am still alive somewhere my friends

the dreams pour out of me in my pleasant room

(where am i?)

my heart has slowed down to a distant drum

i hear the blood pound lazily in my ears

as it sloshes through the machine that holds my soul in

i am enamoured of the haze settled in the green back garden

i sit up in bed it is every morning like this ever

i sit up in bed with my grey eyes open

i am alone it is silent

i dont remember my name or why i am here

i am out of context

it is lovely not to remember it all

how it all went so wrong and so wrong

wagging tongues and fingers gone

i awoke to a new eden of amnesia

i was adam in a bed in a pleasant room

trying to name all my dreams

i have been sleeping for year it seems

so much had transpired but it was all quickly evaporating

my heart broken cursive script upon the pages of dust

mirrored the looming morning glow like a hovering cotton wool bandage

the blood was the red rays of an alien sun

yes i sat up in bed and i looked at the trees

decked with leaves and lanterns

last nights revels now muted in morning

yes i sat in bed and i forget what i was saying

i looked in a mirror someone once put there

i sit looking at a me they have thrown together somewhere

some delicate thought has vanished on my tongues tip

the insurgent day has lost its way and everything has halted

a plane freezes in the sky

the birds have all gone so quiet as if in anticipation

but

i have accelerated through

bang bang bang the frames come down

behind the brain somewhere i sit and move faster

freedom in the greying day

freedom in the soft rainy night

i sit in near silence typing in the little apt in which i live

type type type

the stuff comes out of nowhere

thunder mooted clad in big old boom boom boom

lightning flash down and strike these southern seas

i drink lychee juice and smoke the fucking herb

as sleep approaches in the humid gloom

i am living in this weird future now

i need sleep in this deep warm night

out there people are getting into some real bad scenes

not this little boy tucked up listening to the rain

hoping for more and more rain

willing it urging it causing it bringing it

in the darkness i am no one

warm and safe and anonymous within the soft night

somewhere out there

the ambulances rush through the cloudy streets

the policemen with sirens blazing

the dealers and wheelers whirl into action

in my tidy pleasant room

my shirts hanging up

asleep to it all

i am dead to that world

 

 

 

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posted on January 6, 2015 at 11:33 pm
mired in maya

mired in maya

conundrums paradoxes and maya rain down on me in an unbelievable way

moral dilemmas and quadralemmas

man i got them lemmas everywhere i go

i gotta laugh at this universe who aches to see me solve the curly ones

rolled at me

every fucking thing i do is involved in so much argy bargy

everyone oh no… being disappointed again

i move into a new place in another eastern suburb

a woman comes up to me

oh youre our new neighbour she says and seems nice

how you liking it so far? she says

its pretty good and pretty quiet i says

attempting to make some small talk

i says except for the guy with the fucking guitar and the PA

(some of the readers will understand how i dismayed i am

to find next door to the right is a geeza who every saturday night

gives the whole neighbourhood the privilege of listening in

on his very loud performances of a bunch of songs from now

and “favourites” from yesteryear

all rendered in a pearl jammy reedy nasally affectation

that really gets my gander after awhile

wondering why he is not just happy like most of us musicians

to keep it to ourselves and if we annoy the neighbours it is never our intention

i could not even begin to make music if it was pissing someone off

therefore i dont see why the whole neighbourhood should be subjected to it

esp. as it is cover versions and not something brilliantly original

which demands to be heard

rather it is proficient busker churning thru a dull old bunch of numbers

ie it would not surprise me to hear milky way trotted out ha ha)

the woman says dont you like it?

nah i says i dont wanna hear it at all

why do you actually like it? i says increduously

oh i love it! she says and walks off angrily to you guessed it next door right

the next performances have come with a new element

a hearty cheering and clapping by about 5 people to let me know i was wrong i presume

damn me and my big mouth1

i am australias larry david stumbling from one thing to the next

a cynical sucker fumbling the ball

its all maya

its all an illusion

i am writing these words to myself

whoever maybe reading this now exists out there

and understands this or not

but i hereby sternly remind myself that this is all maya

i am an eternal spirit who has fallen for some reason into this material nature

in the kali yuga which is the age of quarrel

quarrel it certainly is

as nations go to war for slight theological differences

in some old myth from a bunch of guys in the desert

aggrandising themselves with stories about their own big strong daddy god

that they write themselves justifying their atrocities because their god okayed it

and ever since the butchery has continued over these tent god tales

it is patently obvious that the creator of this universe

was no chump acting like some angry patriarch

blasting cities and having silly little favourites

check this universe out you fools it does not work like that!

all these words are the words of writers and editors and publishers and translators

why would a god who can create the moon and stars need some boffin sitting in a tent

to write it all down for him?

anyway i aint part of of any of the peoples of the books

i aint with ya

i aint with the unswerving self righteousness of you and your books

i now anticipate with some trepidation

our lovely christian lady commenter who faithfully chimes in

with her get thee behind me satans and all that baloney

it used to amuse me now it fills me with inertia

to read the inane parrotting of some old testicle fire n brimstone

lady this is not salem in them good old witchburning days

no lady witches aint causing my problems…

its fucking old age believe it or not!

just like the stupidest savage you see some supernatural reason in everything

something bad its the naughty old devil

something good its good jehovah big daddy saving your day

cos you “believe” in him

dont that ever strike you as a strange fucking bargain right there?

i will save your neck (for a while) if you “believe” in me

except for poor old fucking job

he “believed” and daddy jehovahpants did not save his neck

and then  instructed some tent bound boffin to brag about it in a book

lady no one thinks the old testament is literal truth

anyone can see it is a collection of rules and regulations and myths and allegories

borrowing freely from civilisations that proceeded it

ie the garden of eden etc etc

theyre not even the guy in the tents own stories

they are fragments of folklore from bygone eras

dont quote that tiresome bullshit to me!

as far as st paul i say again jesus christ would have hated him

he was a murdering self righteous ugly son of a bitch

a pox on his interpretations of JC

who forgave him for the people he murdered ?

jehovah pants according to…him..well thats convenient..

jesus “appeared” to him and said

its ok you killed all those people

change your name by one letter

and your exonerated

then go out and twist my words to make people feel guilty and miserable

yes a murderer and persecutor is a good man for my message of peace

etc etc

please desist with the christian comments already!

or go away and write on bonos page if you want to

i aint printing anymore because its my blog and its irking me

just like our own anonymous friend who still fires off the odd nasty comment

that is eaten up by my spam filter before its hopelessly vapid negativity boreth me

yet he persists boy its a fine line between love and hate

but yet he surely persisteth

go for it son

congratulations! your asinine dribblings go straight into the void you ninny ha ha!

well thats about it whoevers out there

this is all maya

i am a spirit soul moving between lives as i pick up enough oomph

to leave this universe and go onto whatever is next

until a billion years hence

i am walking by a lovely lake in summer with my sweet lord

and hes saying to me:

boy i betcha glad thats all over!

 

 

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posted on January 4, 2015 at 9:08 pm
tempest you us

my brain hurt like a wherehouse

i had breakfast with my eldest daughter miranda today

(granola with soy milk and berry compote)

we sat looking out at the sea

its a given that all fathers love their daughters

but this one is the most airy and evanescent of them all

at once she is a stunning beauty and an overgrown child full of enthusiasm

i have been lucky with my daughters

and i thank my god for them

yes they are my wealth

my positive contribution to this world

i have the new lou lou record in my possession

i’m giving it a good flogging in my headphones and while i paint

wow some aching heartbreaking songs right there

i am impressed

their lyrics are mostly impeccable

clever mercurial and with ambiguous little twists

music flows through my family

everyone plays and writes

my grandmother and great uncle joe played the piano

my dad and even aunty lou lou herself could play

music in our blood

the girls carry it on

with a double talent whammy of karin their mother  and her brothers

all players singers actors writers

with this impressive genetic musical pool to pull from

it should be easy and they make it look easy

its like they sprang into this world fully formed as SLL

for their first record there is some impressive stuff

haunting longing and sometimes exuberant songs

gorgeous songs with unusual melodies

torch songs and the like

its called lucid dreaming and its out on 23 feb i believe

bravo twillies this is an auspicious start

very very nice

 

 

 

 

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