Darl Dudley was a pud with a swelling in his nipper.
Shaving, he forgot to zip his zipper.
The morning was great, he was cheerful and able.
He decided to set the breakfast table.
Seeing the adelaide boots he became unstable.
Yanking at his crotch, before he was aware,
Yiks, he had caught a lot of hair.
Then he broke the zipper off and ashamed, began to swear.
His love entered the breakfast room
saw his bent over form and thought it was a dare.
Darl stood up and held his crotch, his pants slipped down
a notch; red faced he howled a prayer.
"My darlin," she exclaimed. "You seem to be in pain.
Let me help you get your trousers off."
Darl let out a heart felt sigh. Just wanted to cry.
His dinger, hot and swollen with a badly bruised side.
She bent down for a moment to see about his fly and
and ended up with a sharp poke in her eye.

WARNING:  Horror*...Readers might find this poem offensive or distressing.
_____________­_


1)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel

Like the time
my parents kept on and on
about responsibility
I had to look after my things,
that made me mad

And then I decided
I must assure them
I would grow up to be responsible
make them feel confident
I must put them at ease
so I did

And the police asked me
if I knew where they'd gone
and I showed the cops my perplexity:
“They were always 
responsible
in everything -
 how could they
just go away 
and leave me like this?”

The police and lawyers searched the house
and they found the will -
my parents had left everything to me
and had put my siblings
neat in order
stretched out on the dining table
in the basement kitchen


2
Like the time
then at work
the colleagues went on
about responsibility
and they conspired:
I was irresponsible;
they were conscientious;
I was a freeloader
Ah, the judges in one's world

the judges of one's soul

and one day
they found a worker in a bad state
dead and lying naked in the clichéd
pool of blood –
in the toilet, of all places -
with the words: *“How irresponsible”
on the floor

Everyone was in a state -
I moved inter-state
I was going places


3)
Dear, oh dear

don't cry

Darling, oh darl

don't bleed

There was a time when I married
(everyone finds it's a mistake;
they either **** their partner
or, to continue living,
they **** their own spirit)
but I was determined to grow
my body and spirit -
can we not get conventional? -
so I had minced pie for a time
and no one could bring
my wife back home
you see
wifey got
too comfy
and see she had this thing
(after respectability)
about responsibility
the role of husband and father and
parent and homeowner, mow the lawn
service the loan
and all that crap –
I quite believe she was going mad;
maybe she walked away into the woods
Was that responsible of her?

Dear, oh dear

don't cry

Darling, oh darl

don't bleed


4)
I moved into the woods
built a little cabin, below the rocks
and covered by the trees;
yet I had visitors
who had come astray into the wilderness

Someone wanting space for the night:
“Is there enough room in your cabin?”
“Why,” I said, “there’s plenty all round”
I was vegetarian
but the destitute offered themselves to me -
the religious might say:
God fed me 
even in the wilderness! Ha!

A wandering woman one evening,
she offered love in return
for shelter that night
She let me lick, taste her flesh
“Bite me,” she said
offering a foretaste in our foreplay
Why would they not leave me? –
these wanderers, the intruding world

No, I had not come in like Thoreau
or the Unabomber – but maybe
like the misanthrope Timon of Athens...
afraid of my own hate; but the innocent
seemed to be drawn in as to a...an...abattoir



5)
And now here we are -
I have come into your space, your cell;
gates and doors
yield to my fingers, if you must know
(always good with my hands,
good with my teeth)

And we are here
each against one's wall -
and each wants to know
who is responsible
for this mess
Who made all this?
Who was insane to give us all this?
It was a mad God

or a meaningless universe – 

either way, there is no responsibility
You and I are agreed

Here we are
each against one's wall
considering who will eat who...
*Make your move; I am famished

so Old Farmer Joe is missing for breakfast
and his wife Mary goes out
to look for her hubby of fifty years
and finds him standing there
in the middle of the field

What are you doing here, darl
asks Mary
standing here in the field?

And dreamy Old Joe says:
I hear they award
a Nobel Prize to those
out standing in their field
I’m going to win, sweetie


Come, let’s go home, darl
says Old Mary
and she guides him,
as he leans on her shoulder,
and he grumbles:
*I knew you’d spoil everything

WARNING*:  Horror...you might find this series offensive or distressing if you are not used to horror.

3)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel

Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed
There was a time when I married
(everyone finds it's a mistake;
they either **** their partner
or, to continue living,
they **** their own spirit)
but I was determined to grow
my body and spirit -
can we not get conventional?* -
so I had minced pie for a time
and no one could bring
my wife back home
you see
wifey got
too comfy
and see she had this thing
(after respectability)
about responsibility
the role of husband and father and
parent and homeowner, mow the lawn
service the loan
and all that crap –
I quite believe she was going mad;
maybe she walked away into the woods
Was that responsible of her?
*Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed

1
And it’s fifty years
since Farmer Joe and Mary married
but Joe forgets;
Joe is always in La La land

Darl, do you know what day it'll  be
come Saturday?
says Mary, who’s still got all her teeth

No, says Joe
who's still got strong hands and feet
No, no, no…I don’t know – wait,
what was your question?


2
It’s our fiftieth, darl
says Mary
Let’s have a feast, invite the kids
and the neighbors
– and let’s **** a pig


O, says Farmer Joe
*I don’t know why
the pig’s got to take the blame
for something we did fifty years ago

My big headed people said ity, i trusted, 'hiriz' has never dissapointed themy,
my hatred for non conformity, enormous, i surely hated the conformity truly,
i almost lost it for 'hiriz' sakey, **** it, ill never have wanted to lose this beauty,

i had it  weirdly thinking ablazey, loozing?, no, i hadnt  and  you n they didnt realize fastly,
loosing soo fast  about  lowly sinking sinly,curse all day i ,ever had thee meeting to lyfy,
wit all the  a vitue TRUELY INVESTMENT **** no lievly, forget me darl; once and  for ever dony

one more what you  waznyt quetly, cool openly, man must lively sweetly
that a day woud spoily truely, madly mey, sooooooo losty i had made a choisy,
refusing my being theiyyyyy, lucky  me doing, buty,  i love thater that am no longy

your timey was wanting by virtuey,  truey. luck **** spyty this shiety oul
endy began truely sure truelly, fukciey, its thats badyy, me lost it shortlley
man must livevy or diiey, truely, gotta  ity, man look for bread i wannaity


withought even hiriz it all worked welly, herey,  i am.  fu** like ity
dead

Coal black nights, filled with sceneries of haunting beauty,
Every tree, every mound, every cloud looking dark and sooty.
Something in this shaded sketch feels so wild but familiar,
Making the moment move towards your heart, nearer and nearer.
The burning embers of your conscience, hypnotized by the scenic grandiose .
Perfectly finding sense in the molten pitch black chaos.
Mother nature always keeps up with her strange methods and ways to amuse,
Making you feel amused, minuscule and confused.
Enter the silvery king of the darkness through molten black clouds gracefully,
Gleaming with his childish, delightful and hazy light, mischievously.
The sprinkled sparkles fluttering, glittering across the expanse,
Making you cherish and treasure every moment that's about to pass.
There is magical madness in very twinkle, every glow and every ray of moon-shine,
Sending you a message, crystal clear and divine, that everything is going to be fine.
Making you forget, every complaint,  problem, and dismissal,
And showing you the beautiful, mysterious and playful,
Dark Carnival

Letters from Mom  - Letter 2 of 4: Our new place




Dear my Dearest *******

That was good of you to phone
Great to hear your voice dear
but surely
think about it a little
you need to shout a little more
being so far across the mountains
on the other side
in the other state
Even when we got telephone
you got to shout  a little more –
cos even with the telephone,
it’s a fair distance, remember
so all we can hear of you is a faint crackle



This new place is not too bad
dear O dearest *****
It’s  got one of these wonders, the washing machine
but I’m not sure if it works really
cos I put my first load of clothes in for the wash
and I pulled at the handle
and there was a rush of water
and, dear or dear me ,
I saw everything swirling
but I haven’t seen the clothes since
Dad says that thing there
is for men to sit on and read the newspaper
But tell me – why would they have water in there
if it were not a regular one-of-them washing machine?



Tell you about the weather here in our new place
dear O dearest *****
Not too bad – it only rains say twice a week
which is not too bad
See it rained Monday and continued till Thursday morning
and then continued from Thursday morning to Sunday night -
which is not too bad, just twice a week,
my dear O dearest *****




Now Dad wants to sit on that washing machine
and read the newspaper
he says, like he claims eminent men do
But no way, I’m not allowing him to sit on our washing machine –
have you ever heard of such a thing?
I’m going to kick him, if I need to
I think I’ll put in another load of washing
and see if the machine spits out the first one I put in




Write to me, or call us again, Darl *****
Your loving Mom

You are all the same
You all ******* and *******
you cry and laugh
and with pain you “smile”

You are all tired of your own sad life
Working in a mediocre job
that barely pays off
Married or not, complaining for both

“You changed!”, you yell
to your average looking wife
“Why am I alone?”, you ask
to your fat and fuzzy cat

You complain because
of what you have
You complain because
of what you lack

You complain, and cry, and claim
that happiness you deserve
Life doesn’t own you nothing, you darl
Better learn it now or suffer some more.

Money, price, fortune
that’s all you need
Cash makes you rich
Happiness will only bring a smile

To your ugly looking face
“It’s ugly enough, the tv told me that
I’m nothing compared to Brad Pitt
Nor Johnny Deep.”

“I need no smile to ugly it
a little more
I can have cash
and my own Ferrari buy”

-A world full of meaningless words
and wasted hours,-
You all live in a constant rush
to eat, to ****, to live

Running up and down
rushing to send the papers
and talk to your hated boss
But at least money is getting it.

Or in the other part
we can watch the opposite band
The full of stress grown-ups
And the careless young mans.

You are locked on a king bed
“Exercise? why move?
I have a tv controller hiding
under my sheets, also have you seen my chips?”

Reading is a lost art
no need of books
when computer are at
with shinny screens and password locks

“Why read words?
when you can research
the intricate plot
in an instant or two”

Are you happy?
Can I even ask
Or have you lost the meaning
while you loosed the habit of reading?

Is that the only thing you lost?
where did you virginity go?
Oh “drunk as ****”
So you decided to ****?

Sounds pretty smart,
Where are the neurons at?
Ahh I understand, getting high everyday.
Yolo, right?

I’m only describing reality
why getting offended?
Did I hurt your feelings?
Did you feel connected?

I enter the small town coffee shop
desperate for caffiene
                           and a moment's respite

and I find it is to another era
I have come, hot and flustered

I look at the menu,
scratched in chalk on dusty board.
No artistic rendering  here
just a list of good honest food,
humble, but a smidgen dear

I order coffee, latte,
with cold milk on the side,
to which the large lady server
looks at me her head cocked to askew
and states, in a flat australian drawl,
that brings billabongs and jumbucks to mind...

Darl, I can make it tepid if ya wants,
or I cans put ya cold milk on the side
but I gotta charge ya extra..
for ya mouthful of chilled moo juice
smiling, lips thin and wide

I replied I'll still take the milk on the side
and one of those little peach cakes
if you don't mind.

She gave me a price and I complied,
thinking unto myself,
the moojuice, must originate
up on heaven's side and
cure all ills, ward off chills
and give only ....
joyous thoughts whilst one imbibes.

I sat at some old farm wifes table
worn down and grooved.
Come to town to shine in this caffiene shrine
rubbing my finger agin the edge
awaiting the latte and cold milk...
on the side....

Watching me from the prized corner table
three old dears.....
With stacked mahjong tiles, and swivelling ears

and on the floor crawling with gay abandon
two small children, in tandem,
they wandered amid the tables
on uneven floors the colour of slate,
deep dark wood, tongue  and groove...
that had seen to much walking, to much talking,
the tongues have slipped and the groove all but broken

As I await the cow to moo, the beans to grow
my heart slows a beat..I let go..
and see the joy, of a fella and a good cuppa,
two old friends caught up in a natter.
and the mahjong queens, realease the tiles
old friend and foes, in an a company of smiles

The cake comes, presented with due grace.
Two  pink half moons of light sponge
in a thin jelly and coconut case,
caught in a lover's kiss of delectable cream

and I understand now,
the cow is an angel,
a veritable dream,
to be loved and cosseted,
the moojuice... of moojuices
the mother of creams...

And now for caffiene...
well go figure...they know their beans

Refreshed and renewed I arise and I leave
but not before buying more moojuice
                                                      an­d moocream...

Letters from Mom -  Letter 4 of 4: Life, Death, and Life*


Dear my Dearest *****

Life and Death, dearest *****
that’s what  news I’ve got for you here
in this post; sad and happy, dearie
ain’t that what’s it all about
Cos God gets drunk every other night
(just like your Dad)
life’s a mixed bag


Three of your school friends
last week
were in a pick-up truck
It was Dom who was driving
and the truck fell off the bridge
and into the water
Dom rolled down his window and got off
but the other two in the back
John and Mary, though good swimmers
they drowned, dearie
cos they couldn’t get the tail-gate opened


And your sister is now pregnant
and she’s all excited
but we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl
so we’ll decide later
if you are aunt or uncle
And your sis says if it’s a girl
she’ll name it after me –
so, she’ll be called Mom;
and if it’s a boy
she’ll name it after Dad –
so, of course, he’ll be called Dad






And that was good to hear from you
on the phone
you’re coming back home
You can run away from school
run away from your town
run away from mummy -
but you always got to
come back to mummy
dear O dearie my *****


See you soon, Darl *****
*Your loving Mom