cheap

 

its been  

daytime television

washing machine beep

underfoot stair creak

tiled floor cold

for me

but now

at four

friday arvo  

knock off

street roars

hoons are out

claudia

& candice

tonights

attraction

at the inland city

hotel

two dollars

to drop

their tits out

cheap

Beachside Kiosk, Semaphore South

Ham, cheese onion toasted on brown and a weak latte.
"Weak! Weak! There is nothing weak about you Coral."
(A friend of mine who does not know the Truth.)
At the beachside,
"Here's -Your - Sandwich - Love" kiosk,
Semaphore South.
Raw onion is an angry Danny Green in my empty stomach.
Worst sandwich ever. But $4.50. Instant friendly service. Complaint - petty.
Coffee is half latte and half foam. It is not weak.
I go for more milk. The man fills my mug.
"That looks good. I love you now."
I tell him.
Coffee is bitter! Bitter! Bitter!
The other patrons, (should that be matrons), two women talk.
Surf boards in the family room. Territorial dispute.
Garage! Garage! Put it in the garage!
The sandhill is pock marked with footsteps.
Clouds? Yeah, there are clouds.
Isolepis Nodosa do it for me in the wind.
Kids balance in the playground.
DOGS ARE PROHIBITED IN THIS AREA.
A man and his sixties pony tail remnant
brings his Mum.
She holds her cardi against the wind.
They came for ice-cream. The choice is hard.

Run

I wake.
Sit on the edge.
Look at my phone.
No messages.
No one loves me.
Pull off my night clothes.
Sit naked.
Stretch.
Massage both breasts.
Round and round.
The little lump is still there.
Find my ungerdungers.
On the floor.
Sniff.
Wearable for another day.
Or until I shower.
Find my T shirt.
Shorts.
Socks.
Runners.
Pull.
Tug.
Roll.
Them on.
Scraffle the hair.
Grab a key.
Run.
Out the open door.

Quote

Enchantment

Be not afeard. The isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep
Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again.
Shakespeare - The Tempest, Act III

outside the window VIII

the crowd clamours for truth
she kicks off her yellow spikes
her bow tie hangs red undone 
she 
stands
walks
leans
outside the window

where suns moons planets hurl across the sky clocks strike three five seven messages cut on leaves fall boil to sludge soil quivers cloud banks crash rainbows turn to blood doors bang glass cracks sewn lips tear eyes slam shut ears lock down psychosis breaks out obsessive love tags behind rashes run pus creeps fires burn cold a world spins bottle broken no end to it

she 

draws 

the blind

Thinking About You.

I think of you

as always,

it seems

- lately.

I don’t count years,

                      tears

                 or beers.

This is the doozy year.

The year of make

break!

live/die

burn all bridges

grow-year.

Lets fucking do this…

I’m in.

Count me..

Hand up here!

Note to Reader:

Three people seem to have put their hand up for the self improvement course at the TAFE.

I am not sure which TAFE that is but I can find out and let you know before the interval of twenty minutes.

I am pretty sure that course works. I have seen people go and noted changes.

There are two schools of thought:

It Is Possible To Love Yourself

              V

Don’t Try - It Might Work

School of Philosophy

outside the window VII

the woman in only
a red bow tie
yellow spike heels
smiles
drinks tea
eats cake
she has buried the remains
the headstone reads
HE LIES
HERE
HEARTLESS
outside the window
the lawn is wet with autumn
the sky is
sun-yet-to-rise pale green
this colour replenishes your xi
says Zan
a seagulls rasp
rips through birdsong

outside the window VI

the moon falls
a giant pearl
into the ocean
waves slap
sloppy kisses
onto the sand
outside the window
a woman in only
a yellow bow tie
red spiked heels
bends
to scratch
a message in glass
"TAKE YOUR POISON"

YOU

Do you want me to label each word? This one LOVER, I was giving to Janet or Anne or James, someone else and the one I can't remember. Maybe to them all, I am not sure.
OCEAN was a reference to ablution, absolution. MOON, I actually thought heavenly body as I wrote or do you need further explanation? But I wasn't writing about YOU, someone I know intimately. There are many: YOU. YOU. YOU. PLUS YOU. Which one is YOU? Go ahead point yourself out.

outside the window V

i need my lover to be here
the one i dont have
the one denied me
the one who crashed a hole
in my imagination
the one i cant speak
the one i cant touch
the one i cant dream
outside the window
waves flop
fat wet puppies
johnaton livingston seagull
mashes the wet sand
with his pink webbed feet
then
joins the breakfast flock

outside the window IV

pegs bite the clothes line
trees dance
very far
a dog barks
closer
parakeets party
on pine cones
outside the window
in a tree's moon shadow
a man weeps
he has lost his Love
and can't tell
where
to
find
it

At Writers Week

Oh shit! Oh shit!
I dont fit!
Hair is neither
blonde nor bobbed
straightend or coiffed
my Sydney
designer coat
has a hole
no jewellery
makeup
forgot my
sunsmart hat
gold trim sunglasses.
Lucky,
Adelaide
has a share
of lovely lesbians,
there goes one now...
fairy floss pink mohawk
I LOVE CUNT
tat on her tit
she might spot me
and fit my empty hand.