Small Talk

(A spoken word poem.) Honestly, I can’t be fucked with the small talk, the bored talk, the same-questions-every-day talk, talk that’s just chatter, shit that doesn’t matter, the “how’s it going?” That makes me want to BOOM and splatter my brains against the nearest wall just to escape this mindless drawl. Do you really want…

To cure an addled brain

I think I’ll OD on omega 3 only to be more me see more easily put in the freezer, not the cupboard, the frozen peas and crystalise my memories by coating them in clear-gold ooze to collude with synapses previously confused in a brain that’s been too abused used only to be amused and is…

Why I’m not a theist

From creation we destroyed our chance of unlocking timeless aims and since with battles, scissors, paper, rock, the pen of history’s gone up in flames And if you ever get a chance to fly to heaven (though outmoded) you’ll see whatever chance we had has long since been eroded.

Guy Fawkes

“firecrackers they were” under the doll every 365th evening on the beach we were with hundreds o’ others maybe less and it’d start from way down in distance someone, I don’t know who, would decide It’s time and one by one then many by many them crackers would go off BANG BANG BANG    …

Kites on the Gaza Strip

I weave all that has not been told between wicker and twisted sheets and colour them white, blue, pink, red, orange, yellow, green then tie it up, together in a meaningless shape and let it go and the sky takes it and another and another and we, left on the hot, dry sand, are left…

Myriad Ways to Waste a Night

There are myriad ways to waste a night. One can read, Or take a bath Or write whatever focus will allow. One can sit in the comfort of some screen, And let others entertain, Like throwing money at your eyes. One can reminisce Read dreams And notes And photographs, Talk to old friends Lament how…

Sydney

(This is intended as a spoken word poem, but I’m as-of-yet too reticent to film myself.) I’m Sydney intolerant. This city absorbs my warmth with its brick facades and through some silent alchemy spits it back at me, cold, lifeless. This city wakes me up at night with the brightness of its lights, empty promises,…

US08

next to God of course America i am surprised as you were constantly devouring the secret of life sdrawkcab that you mistook it for faith upon which you built a machine with which to create Belief. And still, when your pillars of stability and osowonderous importance were struck down you did not falter to wage…

2 Poems about the Theatre

Poem 1 Hello, Uncertainty. Good afternoon, Negativity. I’ve been expecting you.   Poem 2 I stand within your silence and feel your soft, silent fingers grasp my wrist, my neck, the very tips of my toes, my heart. My eyes drawn to your emptiness, And I stand silenced As what I am you gently strip…