Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Steel creaks and
Wood bows
Mighty ships
The ocean throws
Who would wonder
Who would know
The terrible creatures that lurk below
You're a first class monster
A deep sea disaster
A calypso god-send
Satan, Master
Tentacles and horns and the eyes of hell
Beneath these murkey depths
Calypso does dwell
I saw him kill
It was Satan's will
And in Satan we trust
And who would know better
To indulge in chemical lust
More innocent blood is shed
But not at a loss
Into my mouth they bled
The Satan inside
Hell fire red


Chop chop chop
Buds blaze and
Lungs rot
I'd remember yourself alive
But I keep forgetting I forgot
And if I were to stop
What would be to remain?
Trying to refrain? Stirring from realizations
Of what we have and haven't got?
I'd rather not
Chop chop chop



Chain smoking at 10:30 o'clock
Bottles empty
Filled with writers block
Unhealthy like the resin
You stoked
And it's not easy
I think my heart is broked
I could sleep down at the beach
But I don't go there
Sobriety is too far out of reach
I could fall in love with you
But I think not
I think I loved you once
But I forgot
My coffee is cold
My wine is warm
And I couldn't care
That I'm still awake at dawn
I could care, but I'm too high
Now there's nothing left
But moonshine raining from the sky


There's plenty of fist fights
A frosty city night
Damn, look at her
I bet she's tight
Niggers be everywhere,
Throwin' their fists
Everyone's dying inside,
Cutting their wrists
The dystopia of the future
God rape the Queen
Floatin' like a ghost
Injectin' hero-ween
This is the future
And we're all dead
Ten year olds dressed like whores
By twelve they'll be givin' head
Guns cock
And bullets spray
Bodies fall
A blood soaked new day
There's no place to rest,
No place to hide
Find somewhere safe
To watch the sun rise
This is the future
And we're all dead
I beg to differ
It's all in my head

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Another poem

A dream, a glimmer
A hope, a flicker
Moonlight wont hold,
Hold you no more
Star shine, moonlight
The space between,
And life
I am nowhere tonight
A motivation,
Too much is unwritten
Clarity and fog,
Are just the same,
When anything is everything
And I'd be lost without
This tobacco and flame

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Summer is over but it wont fuck off.

The soft autumn scent of another desolate morning. The sunset full of dread marks a turn in time. The nights are long, sleepless and the dark never dulls the stains. When another dead sun rises, faint relief rises in my heart. Sleep may come, bringing with it fitful rest and unwanted vivid dreams. The dreams are terrifying and I wake up ill and shaking. The house is always empty and quiet. She is at work and the doors are locked. I am safe. But then come the terrible things beyond my nightmares, the roots of them. Pure, blinding, white-hot emotion, numbed by the fact that I can't feel that many negative emotions at once.

So I had this dream, I was talking to my Mother. We were at my old house from a few years previous, sitting in the back room. I'm quite sure I was high. She was wearing a loose fitting blue shirt and black pants. Sitting on the computer chair. I jump up and shock and start firing questions at her. How are you here? I thought you were dead? How can you be here? Have I been asleep for months? You're dead. You're dead.
She begins crying and saying. Why would you think I'm dead? I'm not dead. I'm not dead. I'M NOT DEAD. She begins to get very angry with me. Crying. How can you be here? I have your ashes, if you are here who's ashes are these? You are dead. She just gets increasingly angry and cries more and shouts more. And for a second I almost believed her.

I do not know what this is meant to mean and I do not know if it means anything at all.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Death Is Inevitable

The sky is grey with electric charge. The pure static joy of the clouds. The hangover from the weekend past lingers like soot. The long journey home is mixed with dread and relief. The sweet vodka burn of the longest bender yet, detachment is blanketing. I ride the train for hours at a time, the strangest feeling. " Next station, Karrakatta. " I want to get off here, but I can't. I ride to Perth. I want to get on the Clarkson train, but I can't. I walk from the station and wonder around, buy a drink or two. But even in company I feel alone with my thoughts.