Monday, December 30, 2013

Height -02/01/2014


notta life or death
sleepless obsession
I don't need
don't want her
to save me

there are still days
where this thing
feels about as good
a fit for me
as stand up comedy
for Mahatma Ghandi

when this dizzying climb
just makes me think
all these vertical feet
I'm bound to one day fall

but for now
if she can just
keep making it hard
to get outta bed,
and feign an interest
in Star Trek

and remind me use
the vegetables
before they go off

and take the fucking photo

if I can keep bugging her
to quit smoking

keep making her laugh
with her whole face
and I do not pretend
to understand
anything about dub-step,
menstrual moods
or bleeding hearts

then yeah

we'll make it through, love.




Monday, December 23, 2013

(a link to) Randall Stephens' 2014 bio


Eh let's face it, this is about the only new piece of writing you're getting out of me before 2014, so here is, enjoy.  No okay, really I'm just sticking it here so I have a quick link for it when people ask in future.  I'm all about the future, right now.

Meanwhile, we're almost ready to band-camp my album for digital download. Then you'll have no excuse. 



Approximately 14 Billion years ago an infinitely dense and massive singularity exploded, creating the universe.  Then nothing much happened.  In 1980 “The Empire Strikes Back” came and Randall Stephens was born.

He writes poetry about other poetry, cycling, sexuality, masculinity, dinosaurs and your boyfriend.  People have called Randall controversial. Randall has called people losers, they’re both right.

Randall is currently living in Denial, and has toured extensively through other emotional states throughout Australia, as well as New Zealand, Singapore, Malaysia and Borneo. He's also competed in slams in London and New York but didn’t do that well, so don’t tell him I mentioned that.

His work has been published by erotic fiction label Little Raven, Australian Poetry’s online journal Sotto, and broadcast on 3RRR and 3CR radio.  Randall currently serves as President of the Melbourne Poets Union, helping to organise, curate and hosts regular monthly readings.

His newly re-jigged album Product is now available at with a third of the proceeds being donated to Asylum Seeker Resource Centre. Meanwhile, he continues blogging poetry at 'Tales Told by an Idiot' (

He also hates re-writing his bio, and has vowed not to do so again for a while.

-more info: 


Happy holidays folks. Let's make 2014 a better one.



Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Admission -20/12/2013


look for human things here (beep)

the hospital as a symbol of compassion and civilisation (beep)

the hospital as a symbol of all the cold sterile interchangeability (beep)

and beaurocratic stiffness of social mechanisms (beep)

look for survival (beep) and then find boredom~ the ultimate sign your life is not materially in question (beep)

all I need to do to keep living is say my date of birth and name to get medicine every three hours (beep)

my parents may outlive me (beep)

beyond sentiment and the moral-of-the-story, machines (beep)

at the empty promises
I make myself
of all I will do
with my second chances
when I get outta here




Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Haven't Done / Never Done - 17/12/2013


You think about all that stuff when you're in hospital,
well yeah like getting arrested,
or like that principles office wait,
like car breakdown in the middle of nowhere,
there's a guilt for ending up stuck there,
but the fault isn't the one you're probably supposed to be groping for,
it's not in a reflect-on-your-bad-behaviour way,
more in a wincing man-you-slipped-up-and-that's-why-y'got busted way

You remember beginning a Vipassana meditation course,
fresh with vast stretches of self lying ahead,
horizon-line miles of bad road,
so sure there has to be a point, you're equally sure you'll miss it,
like you need to punish yourself for things you never did,
and punish yourself for all the things you never done
your consciousness, conscience and libido expand like gases into any size room they put you in
you fart,
you eat worse,
you think about asylum seekers and Star Wars,
you wish people were here,
then try and get rid of the nes who show,
breathe in these books you finally got the time to read,
then the pages put you to sleep, and you wake up needing to piss so bad you have an erection.
think about how you never used to leave your room,
for all your books, videos and model kits,
your mum said you'd adapt really well to prison
and that maybe you'd end up there.

The writer in you wants to sketch out;
the heart-cleaving face you saw,
some sorry character
holding his wife's hand
because that's all he can do now,
against the beep of machines,
or write whimsy about the paraplegic haemophilia counsellor,
who came back to work his old job to feel useful instead of rotting away on a DSP,
after a four-storey fall took his legs,
you can't talk to him about your problems because
...what the fuck man.

The moralist wins over the writer, in you decide these stories seem gratuitous cheap shots,
like some shit Shane Koyczan might do, and get away with.

You never get away with shit,
is why you're here.

Oh and then there's all the fear,
scared like maybe you've lived too long already,
and that liver cancer was supposed to get you,
scared to death by living,
scared of big and heavy and empty life is,
trying to fill a whole life up without 2.3 kid-set-top-box mendacity,
like punishing yourself

for things you never did,

and all the things you haven't done.




Monday, December 16, 2013

Rough -17/12/2013


"Forgiveness is for anyone who gives up hope for a better past." -Buddy Wakefield

I'll never be able to undo the damage others already did her
I got here as soon as I could

I missed reliving her dead ends
through with one way streets
been trying to hold her
like an apologetic prayer
for a better past

smooth talked re-enacting
rough treatment at least
she know now my hands
soft enough that I won't
make it any worse

that is mercy
she is poetry
and I am late

I've been holding her
desperate as the promise
you know you can't keep

some people out there know
what my real name is now
what I tried to do to help
why I can't stay

she won't forgive me
any less than she'll understand
my reasons for leaving

I got here
I got to her
soon as I could
am leaving now
and it's already

a little later than I should.





Thursday, December 12, 2013

Percent left -12/12/2013


When I shut down
my phone
our friendship

is offline.




Monday, December 9, 2013

Dialect -10/12/2013


as I held the door open for her
what I really wanted to say
to this stranger
was something like-

"I like your arse,
can I please wear it as a hat?"

Instead of that
the more conventional-
"oh after you"
comes out my mouth
with a big smile
which she returns
before walking away

and somewhere
in that translation,

I get lost.




Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Delicacy -4/12/2013


I mean if any one of you
actually knew
what a good cook

I am
you would want
to have sex with me

a lot

just sayin'