Globs of scraggy oogle blorck
Cracked in ebbs of nibble naps

Scrapped in cork and oggled mek

Gorged of mega noogle neck.

1.3.

I learnt all
my best
lessons
sitting in
basements
chain smoking
with church
ladies

Smoke clouds
old Dior
perfume
filled
cold rooms
The smell
of lives
lived
Heavenly
odour
making love
under black
moons

Hell hath
no fury
like a woman
scorn
by a God

As they
weaved their
golden yarn

Regrets
of the words
lost
to their men
left for
death
in battle fields
long forgotten

They keep saying
that the
government
will save us

I can feel
it’s the end
when
the kids
their not
right
Lost in video
games
they don’t
even play
outside

Everyone else
is done
with living
Busy paying
and
praying over
the real.....

Call of Duty

Me?
I’ll just keep
playing
with my golden
string

Praying
for a
stranger
to throw
anything
my way

I’m just a beggar

Begging for
some much
needed change

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

the sky is often a white-out
-tinged with grey
and your temples flash
like lightening
while your feet ache
from too much living
and your mind goes walkabout
- Aboriginal dreamtime
all your ancestors came this way
and you will follow them for eternity.