Thursday, August 3, 2017

Redeemable Qualities - 02/07/2017


Sometimes it seems pointless

There was a point
Where I was addicted
To not being addicted
To things
Kicked that habbit

Gave up on giving up
Because being a misanthrope
Only works around people
...other people

Truth is I rather like people
When they're not around
Don't tell them but

The most times
I've masturbated in a single day
Is six

After that
I ran out of stuff to think about
Also I was pretty sore

There was a point
That I thought the things
I really liked
Were things I was addicted to
Had to be gotten rid of
I know better now

I know
For example
That I'm not
My own harshest critic

Friend of my girlfriend once saw me
Performing poetry
He described me to her as having
"no redeeming qualities"

I'm unclear if he said this
Not knowing that we're going out
Or because of that

Either way I'm almost certain
She doesn't agree with him
Even if I do, at times

She's the smartest person I know
...except for the bit
Where she's still going out with me
She's also the kindest

Don't know what she sees in me
I do know that-
There are lots of stupid questions
There are always wrong answers
In every situation

You'd be amazed
How often I think
Of the wrong thing to say
But then don't
Mmm then again
y'probably wouldn't

There was a point
I gave up writing poetry
Then I gave up on giving up

I still have some stories to tell
When the kid asked me
What it's like to work in prisons
When someone asks
what all that extra stuff on my bike is for
When my teacher asked who Randall is...

For now
Just throw my garbage over your fence
Without separating out the recyclables
In write

I write for an audience
And any jackass that says they don't
Is a fucking liar
Who probably can jerk off seven times
And even more
Every day
Without running out of ideas
Or getting sore

Such people make for poor friends
I mean not that I don't
Just that I tend to categorise friends
With addictions
Except I like the things I'm addicted to

Which means poetry isn't one
There was a point I thought it was
All pointless

Too much of anything
Makes you an addict
Or just shit-boring
Most of my friends shit me to tears
So I'm fine

Except for
The big fucking hole in my roof
And it's going to rain tonight
And this isn't a metaphor

Even if it is
A perfect

I'm still writing
And masturbating
Most days
They are so similar


Despite my brain's best advice
I have no immediate plans
To quit anything
Or anyone

It's far better trying
To add things to your life
Than trying to subtract

It's sometimes seems pointless
It's not

I just have no points to make

Halfway between
A really fowl mood
And a really minor panic attack
Standing hands in pockets
Trying to look like I know

What I'm doing here.



Tuesday, May 16, 2017

It catches up with you - 17/ 05/ 2017


Stole a four-pack of batteries from the supermarket tonight, then ate a big bag of potato chips, then ran through three maybe four sets of red lights getting home, because why not. There's no judgement under this moonlight.

Light running on third phase power, off the grid.

Listening to Trent Reznor's social network soundtrack. The ride home has lots of highs and lows. My fingertips are cold, my face is warm. Then it's the opposite, and back again. I love it out here.

My bike is perfect, it is the very height of human evolution and technology. My bike specifically. It is at the top of the ramp above Flemington Bridge Road, with me.

It's all downhill from here.


Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Large Flat White - 04/ 05/ 2017


somedays so uncomfortable inside this skin
can barely get over my over-awkward enough around people
to order a coffee from one of them

anywhere I look
any place I try to stand
especially anything I say
feels like this big and embarrassingly obvious food stain
splattered right down the front of me
that won't be covered up
no matter what I'm doing with my hands

I must really, really like coffee


Tuesday, May 2, 2017

yeah y'don't say -02 /05 /2017


made things hard for myself over the years

yet despite all that solid state dumb
that my lips lets fly
I'm telling you tonight-

 there is a single star in the sky
for each
             and every one
of the countless
Cuban missile crisis-level of narrowly avoided,

each quickly breath-buried
underneath this teeth marked tongue

look up and wonder
at all those stupid,
and man
             I mean really fucking stupid
that I almost
and barely
give breath too





Monday, May 1, 2017

And the silver spoon -01/05/2017


the young kid
in front of me

with his
smugly-Brunswick-going-bald-in-a-faded-political protest t-shirt

who has made him come here
into the police station lobby
to hand in the $150 cash
he found just before
in an alley up the road,

now silently
thinking to himself-

   ...yeah fuckit

this is the last time
I'm honestly telling Dad




Saturday, April 29, 2017

Friday, April 28, 2017

Friday Night Limping to the Pizza Place - 28/04/2017

my street this evening
quieter than a guilty man
who still hasn't been caught
for something

by way of confession
I like

these rainy nights



Sunday, April 16, 2017

Some Things in the Basement - 16/04/2017


been thinking about writing again
If I knew even roughly what about
I probably wouldn't feel the urge, to

not about what you people elected
not about salubrious privilege
nor all my licentious rage
or penning more hate mail
to my love life
don't want to broadcast-intimacy
that's been covered

it's love letters left unwritten
to whatever this is
waking me up nights
things left in the basement
when I was busy kicking out everybody

outfits that don't fit and never did
another person's shoes without a full lap
ever done in
footnotes to self reference
sweat stains left on attitudes unassuming
expired medication
a complete collection of mistakes
in their original packaging

unfinished model kits of ships I missed
star vehicles
scaled-down in swapped out boxes
abandoned mid assembly
thinking I needed more company

want to write hate mail
to these piles of blank paper left
amongst all the neatly metaphors
ink by the barrel in weaker moments
now congealed

kept enough strength however
to twist open these pots of paint
find some other colours besides
the ones others have already covered

fucking mess down-
there's lots of bad debt
I don't care
to collect on
discord conducted along mic cords
happily given away
conversations I cannot hear
between those who believe
the Earth speaks to them

it doesn't speak to me
goes without saying
there's a lot to be said
for keeping your mouth shut
when you don't have much
to add to all their negativity

nevertheless I've been thinking
about writing again
knowing that if I knew why I wanted to
I probably wouldn't need to

this isn't a promise
and though you may take it that way
not a threat either
never threatened anybody
just embarrassed them good'n'proper

a little embarrassed myself right now
which isn't a bad way to start

    that is ...if that is, what this is.


- Peace


Thursday, February 2, 2017

Island - 03/02/2017


there is an ocean of bad decisions
I swam across to get to her
swells tossed around by wave after wave
of oversharing

I'm a lousy swimmer too

   ...or have I mentioned that before?

I mean I already told you
fucking people everything else

she takes me by the mouth
and I don't have anything felt
to say, to anyone else

shallow, deep, you sea
I have ground now underneath these feet
and could not stand

to tell you
anymore than that

when it comes to love.


- Peace