Sunday, April 18, 2010

Honestly, this is all I have

Look down the barrel of a gun
I told you so, I told you so

That speck of dust
Oh that lonely swish of the hand
The smooth shape of stone
at the bottom of your driveway
retuning the strings
holding your face in your palms
watching the slow afternoon sun
yawn over dead paddocks
reaching down into the basket
and that last apple; break its skin
tear it the fuck up
those claw marks
down your bedroom wall
of nights passed in fear
light fingers on keys
pit pit patting towards a closing door
the swell of the red armchair of your youth
your black and white journal
and the soft white of your ceiling
hearing the furious purr of your sleeping cat
and the mindless whirrrr of your summer fan
mistakes made by moonlight
stepped on the crack that broke your back
a tumbled smash of skin, hair, eyes, lips
still wrists on cheekbones
smash, writhe, smash
fourth left ringed with love

looking down the barrel of a gun
those things
do you remember?

Saturday, April 17, 2010

For my friend, Daniel

#14 Daniel

22nd December, 2009. On London Tube.

It feels right now that if I don't immortalise my memories of my recently passed friend, they will soon be pulled into oblivion in his wake. I remember how he and I had our gay handshake to make fun of James and Evan; how we rehashed the sick cat spray joke at every party; how we danced like the black people we weren't; made whale noises because he breached at Katherine's 18th, lol'd at his race-striped car; pretended to call his mum for everything; hated on people without morals; did jizz faces; and after it all, actually got on really well. I will miss making fun of his emo facebook statuses, then chatting about things in a semi-serious way. I will him being in my top two of male friends. I will miss pretending to be his dad and bragging loudly to everyone about "my son, Daniel." I will miss his beautiful oboe playing at Quaranup, and making fun of stupid people with him. I will miss siding with him about being the only two doing a real degree of our friends. I will miss being able to imagine him as a husband, father, and friend with whom I will grow old. Most of all though, I will miss the fact that he was alive, like me; I will miss him until the day I join him, wherever he is.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

my words, they're back!

Her eyes shone with death
how absurd! she was alive in the end
her breath hers to spend
how ever she would dare
would she breathe of the love
she will lose? of her lover in abacus shoes?
the black edges of death, around her they crawl
around violet eyes, they call
away with conviction, away with deceit!
in the last throes of life death will not be defeat
and now that you pool like my coat at my feet
my mind to your cries shuts with echoing heat
the deafening cry is too late to be heard
as her ears strain to hear such a raucous, absurd...
so release me and beg of me no more than this
that your wish to be spared will be granted; remiss
of me maybe to leave you to scamper away
but as death will i too will come for you someday.

Thursday, December 04, 2008

We dance to the sound of sirens

when i try and tell you words
in so awkward ways
i walk sweaty palmed with torment
who barrels my temple
so i splutter the truth

i'm sorry my love
somewhere in the past
few minutes i lost you
i'll just pull my knees to chest
and you can tell me
what i missed

oh, before you start
i saw the sunrise this morning
and i spread my wings below it
i slipped into the breeze going by
and how i flew!
tomorrow i shall wake you
and we shall leap at once
into that slipstream
you can hold my ankles
and we shall form a human chain
shall i speak some more? ok
i scatter more words on our conversation
for interests sake only
i could sit here with you forever
your breath would be enough

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

my hidden cambridge lies within

i recently visited cambridge; these poems are really a series of thoughts that all happened while i was sitting on the banks of the cam river. actually, that's not entirely true; the second poem was written on the train from ely to cambridge. i found it an amazing place to write - it might not seem it, but those few days gave me a very crystal idea of my thoughts. thoughts of thoughts i suppose. the second poem also steals its form from a poem i wrote a while ago called skin on skin. though i suppose because no one reads this except nothing, it doesn't matter if i'm self-referencing.

Oh to be different
of world and time
to be marked not
by the brush that reminds me
I am not good enough
There, drifting away
buried beneath the slowly
ambling river
Departs who I was to be
Adrift! my cultivated plans
Afloat for redemption
and in torrid understanding
I cling to my
effervescent sorrow
straining in me
desperate to claw bacl
slipped beneath the surfaced
and dreamed away.

I am haunted by my dreams
not by darkness or fright
nor black souls or death from high places
but by my happiness
that lives so freely there
outside my waking hours
so merry and free while I slumber
[which flees as the pale dawn approaches]
withdrawn, caged, elusive
while my eyes see

A slow warmth dawns upon my back
as the cold chatters at my fingertips
a creeping thirst
beckons me to leave
why can I not act?
which dart missed the bullseye
and left me with nothing
but the capability to put
in words
what I cannot [say] show.

You are cruel, you, they, why
give me the awareness
of what I'm doing
so I cannot do it
then briskly come
take my words as well
so that I sit again
with warm to my back
straight backed
and mute once more
You, in some will, in the form of a dog
give me a moment's respite
from which I can turn
and breathe
only to return
to find the words gone
you are so cruel.

(Cambridge, 27 Oct 2008)

Inside me broods a longing; low
and restless in my stomach, no
I shall not lose my steely nerve

and though appearances must be kept
and rules regarded, desires; slept
I know not what I should not do

and circle round each other, we
in courtly dane, respectfully
decline to take that final step

Though perfect and desirable; he
does not make word nor come at me
and I, in gutless wonder, stand

and though the possibility
is there, no strings, is boundless, free
somehow it shan't be overcome

and though I yearn each time he leans
to speak to me, I know it means
I cannot step; I cannot break

Our eyes have met in brief and then
for fear of finding 'it,' we bend
and dance around the rules again

so when I go; will he remember me?
or when I move; resigned, shall he
be someone that I cannot know?

as different lives breed different fates
are we just two who shall not wait
and go instead with luck and chance?

and there but for the grace go I
but I alone, and wondering; why,
how life would be if I'd taken a chance.

(ely-cambridge, 28th oct 2008)

so...there they are. for chris, my lovely host in cambridge, who i think is just perfect :)

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Mal, mal mal francais

It, uh, it is difficult for me, to english.

Moi aussi, mais en francais. C'est difficile.

Yes, but your French, it is very good.

Merci, mais c'est pas vrai...donc, qu'est-ce que tu penses de...erm...mon...accent?

You what? Your what?

Er, le...facon...dans parle...quand je dit les mots...par exemple je dit francais, mon dieu, au secours...c'est bien? Ils...vont...bien?

I...sink so. Ttttthhhhhink so I understand. When you speak, sounding french? Yes?

Oui, c'est bien?

Yes! Your french is very nice. Et...ah...and my english? It goes okay?

Oui, ton francais va bien. How can I possibly say I love you without sounding stupid.

Ah, san...tthhank you. C'est trop beaucoup, je peux pas expliquer.

Veux-tu du cafe? sigh

Ah, yes, please. C'est fini

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Thoughts of a 15 year old

There is no truth in truth. There is no lying if you lie. Men have died for smaller offences than loving you but women have died for more. I see no sense in reality but have no heart to dream. I'm not on ice and I have no mouth but my mind speaks loudly to the audience of death that awaits our departure from this world. There is no sense in this reprieve but why reprieve when I am insane. Long live the death of communism long reign the randomity in my thoughts. I Luv Communism. Marxist out.