Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Plan (be) -15.04.2010


There’s a scribbled note on the kitchen table.
and piles of boxes in the living room
There’s nothing left to agree about
a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes nobody’s doin’

There’s a mess not cleaned up,

There are speakers,
no longer with stands
and a shoe rack half empty
another book found that doesn’t belong to you
but it’s okay,

You can keep it.

There’s been nowhere to brush teeth
there’s been Hungry Jacks three nights in a row,
There’s been so much time was spent in the car
There are two cats caged on the back seat
who’ll never see one of their owners,
ever again.

There’s a clear plastic bag
with all the medicine packed
there’s a ring returned
never wanted back.

There are sunglasses to hide behind
while the story is told a hundred times,
there are dozens and dozens of friends
surprised that it came to an end,
yet confessing now little
they actually liked her.

There’s a phone beep every few minutes
there’s an inbox full of text messages not replied to
and there’s as many draft messages waiting to get easier
for themselves to finish
it’s like there’s an engagement party written in my diary
and everyone’s uninvited!

There’s all this talk
built on the ruins of plans
grand plans
(life plans)

...there’s a mess not cleaned up,

There’s a seven-year itch
hurting badder than a broken arm
that needs to be seen too soon as possible
there’s the freedom to scratch it

And finally
amidst all this,

There is me.


This is the fourth poem in the show of thwe same name, and I think it functions well as a stand alone poem also. Just got back from Goolwa, South Australia where I performed the entire show Plan (be) show for the first time, along with Steve Smart and Meaghan Bell. Inspite of a tough crowd and shitty timelsot we performed it fairly well I thought.



Monday, April 19, 2010

Party Instructions -by Di Cousens (18/04/2010)

Under the road
Under the freeway
Under the grass
Under the abandoned building
Under the contaminated soil
Under the ground
Under the memory of industrial breakdown
Under the night sky with no moon
Under the wire
Under the fence
Under the view of those in charge
Within a spontaneous art gallery of tags
Explosive lettering
In a concrete ampitheatre
Illuminated by a chandelier of tea lights placed in plastic cups
Is the party.

Find the hole in the fence and bring a torch.

Di Cousens


This is a poem by my friend and poetic collaborator Di Cousens, and she's kindly gave me permission to include it here on the blog. She sent this to me as a response to my 30th birthday held a few days back.

Thanks again Di, I really love the poem (oh and the Belgian Chocolates went down a treat too, you'll be happy to know).



Sunday, April 18, 2010

Smashed -19/04/2010


I see another human being
who believes
they are worthless
I can’t
reach across far enough
to give that worth back
my Anger
takes it instead.

no one has time for me
and I can’t wind back those clocks
wind down my worries
that my winding road
is going nowhere
and it’s too much
and it’s too late
and it’s just too bad
Anger is there too
in time to keep winding me up.

there is nothing else left
‘cause I can’t have anything else
that I haven’t already put here
in this room
and when I can’t see a way
then Anger comes in.

When I can’t
make love happen
can’t find love
can’t figure out how to be loved
can’t forget love
can’t forgive it
can’t take it back
can’t make love love me
I can
smash things
I can get Angry
and love doing that.

I can’t help but feel helpless
and help
is not on the way
I think it might help...
so many things I can’t do
I can
be Angry.

has never
not been there
for me.

It never forgets me
it never requires anything from me
never makes me struggle to find it.

I can always be Angry.

But Anger never returns anything back
and where love won’t give
Anger always takes much more.

Anger never stays
always leaves me

So many things I can’t do
I can’t
ever remember any of the above
‘til after
the Anger
leaves me
and I’m sitting here
amongst the broken parts
of what Anger destroyed,

On the way out.




Thursday, April 15, 2010

By Calvin Klein (Obsession) -15/12/2010

(co-written by Kim Lajoie)

Air blown around this filthy room
to the beat
of this wobbling fan

Until I sound like Jazz improv
but not quite as cool
minus the band

Until you're scared of me
or more accurately -
scared of yourself, believing me
come now and see
play along listen to my plan
and you’ll understand

We’ll bust our brains
on the biggest broken heart eating competition
wrestling our arms
with our feet in our mouths
my head up my arse and your tongue

Binge drinking
deep thinking
staring, scar-comparing glaring overbearing
arm wrestling comps
'cause I’ll win ‘em all
to win you back
to get you back


For that night I spent trying to make you swoon
must have said four million things about the moon
all original and new
for you
I tried to re-frame the sky
painting tears onto your eyes
mouthing all the required lies
to make you gooey between the thighs

Said to you four million things
about the moon
but didn't end up saying anything
or saying anything you wanted to hear
anytime soon
or anytime later
I've got no idea
what you wanted to hear
or what there was to say
so kinda in denial
with no
sense of what my purpose is
I nodded along awhile
for show
like animals in circus’

But now
I have

I want to show you
my old canvas bag
kept secret
from the millions of minions
canvassing dead ends of live conversations
from nations of nature and nurture
that hates you and hurts you

It’s filled
with your discarded crap
spilled makeup
the corpse of a rat
semen stains on paper planes
that never flew
of course you knew

I could smell it on your perfume
your skid marks
and your thrown-out food
intermingled in this bag
with that moon you’ll never have

Embarrassments to carpet a life
to upholster the truth and paint it in lies
coloured so green that envy looks white
and layered so thick that day becomes night

Revealing it
will spew


I’m gonna pin it to your personal space
invading your untroubled face
and everyone can have a taste
from deadbeat losers to straight-laced
from city slickers to country-based
white supremist to every race
from technophobes to kids in haste
longhand writers to cut and paste

Everyone will wear my insides
everyone will know me
everyone will be your ex
and know about our story

And this is going to be our song
But only I
can sing it
and even though I've got no tune
I'll just have to
go ahead

and wing it.


"By Calvin Klein" is my contribution to the Obsession project, and the first song I've ever written. I've very very happy with what Kim has ended up doing with it. If you'd like to hear what this sounds like, there's two ways. Firstly, assuming you're on facebook go to: http://www.facebook.com/obsession2010 where you can hear this and the other Obsession songs for free, and find out more about the Obsession project.
The second way to hear it, is to come down to the East Brunswick hotel on Thursday May 6th to see perform this live with a five-piece band. I'll also be having a crack at Geoff Lemon's Kissless that night also.



Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Sobriety -14/04/2010


It's time to finally admit I have a problem.

I'm sitting here right now with a headache
seedy and dehydrated
yet angry and bitter.

I'm finding lately
that I've been leaning on it as a crutch
and doing it far too often.

I know
it's use as a social lubricant
is becoming more and more apparent
and increasingly ineffective
everytime I touch it
I end up making an arse of myself.

over the years
I've damaged friendships
destroyed more than one relationship
because of it.

I always go for the cheap and nasty stuff
it's a loathsome thing to get addicted to
I keep swearing black-and-blue
to my friends
that I'm going to quit
or at least reduce
the amounts I imbibe
but then give into social pressure
and tempation
so yet another night,

Like tonight

where I sink into bad company
let my ills get the better of me
despair and hopelessness takes hold
finding myself,

at another

poetry reading!


Yeah I used an exclamation in a poem. Fuck you.

Yes, you.



Sunday, April 11, 2010

Tall Pop Culture -17/05/2010

This was never about me.

Or how many pegs
you thought I needed
taking down by.

How many inches
too tall
you thought
I was walking.

You were angry
at your own end
about everything else
you'd forgotten
how to get.

Years you had wasted
ears you could not reach
became your self-styled stigmata
for the martyr
who no longer matters.

Don't be hating
on the one not waiting
for external validating.

You shouldn't mistake
an easy target
for a soft target
because not every braggart
lacks the ability
to back it up.

You shouldn't confuse
a just cause
with a good reason
because you can't expose
without yourself getting

You shouldn't mistake
your attempts
at pulling others down
with efforts
to elevate yourself
and don't think
that those attempts
don't come without
some undertow.

You shouldn't mistake me
for someone you know,

that you'd rather be.



Friday, April 9, 2010

VIDEO BLOG #2: Man Alive -live at Roarhouse


Randall Stephens - Man Alive
Camera Work & Editing: mitch@lasophiste.com

(click the hyperlink above if you're not seeing the playable-video window)


Here is the second of five blogs with video of performances from a gig back in February 11th at Bar 303 in Northcote, for Roarhouse, a community volunteer organisation promoting mental health awareness.

My friend Mitch, a travelling filmmaker from France visiting Melbourne, was kind enough to come along and film my set, then cut together this clip. He did a fantastic job. Thanks Mitch.

If you'd like to get a hold of Mitch for something you'd like filmed or edited, talk to him at: http://www.lasophiste.com/
or email him at mitch@lasophiste.com

As for the poem itself:

Although I've never gotten much feedback on it either-way 'Man Alive' has become one of my favourite bits to open a set with. Definately a stage poem, it's a nice kind-of statement of principles , and good to get a crowd energised with.

Until recently it was the most hip-hop sounding thing I've pulled off, until the Obsession project came along, but that's a story I'll save for another time...