I’ve fought this sinking feeling
I found it in the sand
I found it on your doormat
Within the sleepless nights
The clouds around my eyes
Birds soaring those blurry skies
.
I these I fight
Away from
My parents lights
The shapes from above
The Scrub January 25, 2009
In the silt
Deep in the dark
But not too far from the house
My head a-tilt
Voices absorbed by tree bark.
.
Under the stars
The milky belt
I grow tired
My leg muscle jars
Heart full pelt.
.
I want you to know
That that’s not what you want.
CD SYNCHRO START RECORDING – BASS REFLEX January 19, 2009
I guess somewhere
A lot of bad blood went down
What am I trying to say
.
Looking for the exits
Thinking about how quickly one should leave
Wondering where the car was
Finding quick explanations
Apologies
.
Feeling sick
.
Somewhere a lot of bad blood went down
I find myself repeating myself
myself
I just can’t deal with the problem
This
That
Everything that surrounds me
Everything that did
Why the cliches
Words lots of other people have used
To fail to explain an overwhelming feeling
.
Once told language was a barrier
That person doesn’t want to talk to me anymore
I laugh
I don’t really want to talk to me either
.
A lot of bad blood is going down
And I don’t understand why so many people have gaunt faces
There was another
And I speak quite literally, this I can’t really obscure
Closer to the front, just slightly
I remember his face so differently
Although I can recall how it was changing
That broke my heart
To see that gaunt mug
I don’t accuse him of that
I hope dearly I’m entirely wrong
Maybe that’s my problem obscuring his face
Wishing the problem to be his as well
.
Something takes me through time when I sleep
Causes me to play CDs I did when I was twelve
I’ll cause an earthquake and bury it all
I’ll go down with the ship
.
I don’t understand what I’m doing
I don’t have the tools
I don’t have the family
I just don’t have enough inside me
What do I want for it
A rifle, a dove
A wet rubber hand
This is becoming too long
.
What do I want to say
I want this feeling to go away
And I want to take back all the sadness from everyone
I’ll keep it all, I just want -
I want a lot of things
I’m fairly sure I’m a bad person
I’m getting closer to having someone telling me what I deserve
Free Heat January 16, 2009
We Men of the Coles Back Door
.
We men of the Coles back-door
We who guard the gate
Whom rough the elements
Defy gravity’s attraction
Curse with every thought
.
We men of the Coles back-door
We who are gentle
Whom smile
Wish each other well
Openly share our thoughts and jokes
.
We are those
Of the hardest
And softest men
.
Dream You
.
If,
If I held this tightly
If I held this tightly blue
Found a box with ribbon
Gave it so to you
.
If,
If you saw this present
If you saw this gift so blue
Would you think just so of me
Would you think it due
.
If,
If you set this small dove free
Into the sky, so blue
Would you believe
(Perhaps just listen)
That the shadow the bird left
On the ground, growing
Bigger and bigger
Covered all the things I would give to you
And that eventually
I could give you the whole world
.
If,
If the shadow was too dark
Much to dark for you
I’ll make the sun come back so quick
Clouds only wouldn’t let the light through
wai.con January 12, 2009
This damn sword has eaten up so much money! I supremely hope that this foam and fibreglass sword I am making for my costume to wai.con turns out well, because it has costed almost half of the money I earned working last week. And I still have to buy the spray paint for it… And I’m fairly sure my clothing part of the costume hasn’t been totally finished either, and is going to require lots of money to finish.
.
I’m writing this here because I told it to two people and I’m feeling fairly embarassed.
.
Blair complains about not having a job, Blair then gets a job and wastes all the money. I just feel kind of useless. But I want wai.con to be heaps of fun… I don’t know. I’ll just make the sword and the damn cloak and see how it goes.
Where I Last Left January 12, 2009
Harkoff was being pushed into a petrol-car. He remembered being vaguely upright, hitting his head on the window divider on the backseat door. He saw – he could smell – black figures milling around a table just under the tent, each of them cradling some golden pen one at a time.
Awake again. Dull lock on his chest, same searing pain in his throat, all of his limbs very, very heavy. Suddenly the room moved again, and Harkoff’s head hit the door again.
“He’s awake,” Betrina turned around after hearing a groan. “Are you alright Plel?”
“I don’t know,” slurred Harkoff, sliding down the back seat, unconscious.
*
Bathed in white fluorescence, Harkoff ebbed back from his empty, dreamless sleep over what felt like a matter of hours. Far from how he felt in the desert, far from feeling any better, he felt the fibres of the bedclothes moving against his skin, he no longer felt oily.
Across from the white bed, over the white tiles and underneath the fluorescent white ceiling waited Betrina. Cradled in her hands was Harkoff’s last mission report – the author totally anonymous. She had spent the last hour learning of the horror the man slowly turning in the bed before her released on a single man, and on a race of people. The scale of the report had totally shocked Betrina, the distances Harkoff had moved unprotected over the scalding desert, the photographs of the mauled man’s body, delimbed, skinned, the enormous pool of baked blood on the sand, none of it made any sense.
Bertina fell into a deep, horrific dream whilst waiting for Harkoff to properly awaken. Her head leant against the spotless white wall, the file fell on the floor, open, scattering the machine-typed papers and photographs. She was being chased by Plel, his bloodied hands reached miles and miles over the desert for her, his thumbs entered her eyesockets, his feet found their way into her stomach. Blood rained from her corpse, high in the sky now, staining the dark evening clouds. A deep laugh rang over the globe she had been murdered on, and Betrina jolted out of her steel chair, screaming.
Harkoff practically caterpoulted upwards the same very instant.
“You!” Bertrina stood rigidly, pressing herself into the wall.
“Bertrina! What’re you doing here? Are you alright?”
Bertrina panted, carefully taking in Harkoff’s face. “What are you?”
“Bertrina? You screamed, what’s the matter?”
“What are you, killing that man like that? Running forty miles over the dead, dry desert?”
Harkoff blinked once before entering Bertrina’s conversation. “Remember when I reached into my pocket at the party before I left?”
tbc.
286 January 10, 2009
Last night,
Last night I thought,
.
We’ll go water the garden now
Would you like some orange?
You know Coles has a new magazine out…
.
Houses must invade me
.
Oh! I’ve dropped one…Where is it? Let me get the light
Ooh, I must be going mad – where has it gone?
.
Take over my mind
.
You know the way I hang pants makes them hardly need ironing!
You know you can have watermelon whenever you like…
You didn’t throw away that plastic container did you?
You did bring home that blue ice-brick…
.
Make me feel like I’ve travelled through time
.
Oh, we put your bike up inside the shed – but your helmet is inside
Your helmet is inside, isn’t it?
Best get your helmet – it is inside isn’t it?
.
Missed the significance of some world event
.
You like curried eggs, don’t you?
You know how to turn off the TV, don’t you?
.
Isolate me
.
The leg’s bent – it must’ve been from when I dropped it….
No-one like shiny pants – I’ll iron them with a handkerchief on top
Oh, good boy – ironing his shirt!
.
Make me feel alone.
Your Brain Pumps the Blood January 3, 2009
New Year’s At Christian’s
.
Love that volvo
On that Pokemon Stadium
“I’m going to sit in someone’s car”
And watch the Lift be passed
As we miss the countdown by seconds
And hug with someone in the middle
.
Crash, or lay awake (snoring)
In a (clean) house
And become lost inside a half-couch
Forget the banana pancakes
Instead summon a scaly manfish
With a creamy, creamy shoe
.
We know who was going to win the chess game
And what were each other’s stars
We all just want our friends back
While I’m reading a Da Vinci book
Screaming for someone every five minutes
Getting lost losing the rubbish loving strangers in the dark
.
The world’s so very, very big
Let’s divide up our evidence into years one second longer
Let’s use this evening to make it stronger
.
Lemon (Spaghetti) Sunrise
.
O spaghetti sunrise
That shines on on my cheek
I could ruin anything
In a five-day week.
.
I’ll spoil each of your potatoes
Turn them poison green
I bid you watch its roots grow outwards
Expand this sunrise scene.
.
Watch this kitchen take back what I’ve hidden
The window near dripping dew
Some mornings I escape this kitchen
Else, find another clue.
.
O spaghetti sunrise
Your saucy rays of light
To you I appeal
I accept this fight
You have so many faces
Occupied a great expanse of plates
Please would you construct a vessel
To sail all my hates
Out to sea in crates.
.
And when those crates reach you
Make for me a jetty from which to fish
So in my kitchen
I may have a Tuesday dish.
.
My burnt spaghetti sunrise
Who took away your cheese?
My mind hasn’t all its gaps filled
You’ve only me to please.
The Stranger Song January 2, 2009
Good afternoon to you,
If it pleases
Today your cardiologist comes with an assortment of cheeses
Please avoid
This scalding heat
Take all that awful weight
Right off your feet
Don’t need your name, this number here
Will tell me all
About your fear
Of being completely sedated.
.
I have three phones
I use them all
To take and make or shake a call
I used this one,
This one right here,
to take yours.
.
Goodbye sir
If’t pleases, please you so
Goodbye sir
Be glad to go.
