Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
DJ Goodwin  Jul 2013
supermarket
DJ Goodwin Jul 2013
Retail-hunter gatherers pick
clean processed bones, digging graves
with their shiny teeth, studious in
their reveries as they drone

past worlds dumped in the thresher;
the trucked-in fields of film-wrapped
gore splayed lustily before the managers
wound tight in Machiavellian design.

A shepherd herds his flock of
wreathed iron back to its pen, its
skeletal tangle lit in riotous gold by
swords flung from lambent eyes of
pre-dawn’s shunting chariots

Cages shunt and bobble like tugboats
chugging stoic up swimming pool lanes
of nondescript tile, cheered on by shouting
colours to float through archipelagos of
paper towel and chocolate blocks past

the vegemite diaspora, and the arctic
wastelands cased in sliding glass fields of
perfect steady storms as wraiths baked in halogen
ask silent questions of the silverbeet, while

Lana Del Ray’s voice falls like
nightshade—slutty and serene—coating
shelf stackers in a Piaf sadness as the
shelves reach their arms out for more.

The check out chick hatches
a sense of déjà vu as carrots
and biscuits drone towards her
mind berEFT of any twitching
sense of POSsibility that wised
up and flew this leering coop and

deep in her catalogue of grey folds
something stillborn and waxen is
perched on gleaming steel, reeling
out her guts like cassette tape with jerky
nightmare arms and laughing like a
banker watching ***** films, mornings
dull cerise an invocation through
auto-jaws as she bursts out to warble
with magpies in car park’s climbing fire.
Mark Jun 2020
WATER OFF A DUCK’S BACK      
From the 3rd diary entry of Stewy Lemmon's childhood adventures.      
      
This week's fun times and great adventures with Smoochy started at the small village pond, just down the road from my home. Which remember, is nestled amongst the trees on a hill in a little country town called, 'Shimmerleedimmerlee'.      
     
While down at the small village pond, I was feeding Buck the Duck, the wild duck that I have been feeding since I was about four years old. I noticed the water level had dropped down, since my last visit to the pond. I was worried the small village pond may not have enough water in it for Buck the Duck to swim in and drink his daily water.      
     
Soon, I was getting hungry, and I also had to feed Smoochy and Buck the Duck some of my Super Duper Triple Cheese sandwiches, made with a smidgen of strawberry jam and a small spread of vegemite between each layer of cheese.      
     
My mum had packed along with the sandwiches a bottle of berry juice and small cut up pieces of apple and banana, a small bunch of green grapes and lots of watermelon sliced into little triangle shapes. All placed together inside a clear plastic bag.      
     
Before opening the bag you should always turn the bag just three times upside down while at the same time moving all of your fingers between the fruit, from side to side (a bit like playing a trumpet) but with a nervous twitch, I guess) then turn the bag left to right five times only but never ever right to left. There you have it, my creation I call the "Colourful Take-Away Fruit-Blast in a BAG".      
     
Then, once that part is done you can eat it to your heart's content or until you are as full as a goog. If you like a bit more adventure, you can also perform the easy and exciting, but very secret add-on part which is called the JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra.      
     
I will give you the secret JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra instructions at the end of today's fun adventure diary entry, but only if you can keep it a secret. It's one of my favourite afternoon creations of all time.      
     
Ok, back to the day's fun adventure. That afternoon was extremely hot and I decided to take Smoochy home for a lie down in the backyard hammock which is hanging up between the two large trees and under the shade, near dad's unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed, to cool down and rest.      
     
I told my dad Archie, that the water level in the village pond was at its lowest I have ever seen it in all of my years being there feeding Buck the Duck. Dad said he would take a look when he had time and let me know what's going on.      
     
The next week I went down to the nearly empty village pond, but Buck the Duck was nowhere to be seen. When dad got home from work he told me he had driven past the pond on the way to work that morning and told me the pond was losing its water because of the consistent hot weather we had been having lately. Dad said the water was evaporating rapidly and that's why Buck the Duck has left to find another home with plenty of water to swim in and drink from.      
     
I said, we have been feeding him since I was about four years old. It also feels like we have lost part of our family. Dad said, ‘Don’t  worry, I'll think of something, just give me a few days to work it out’.  
     
So off dad went, into his unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed, to start thinking of a solution and try and get Buck the Duck back home where he belongs. He looked inside the grouse little pet mouse house he built for Smoochy and studied the tubing he designed for Smoochy to get from the top level down to the lower floor.      
     
All of a sudden, it clicked inside dad's very smart head. He went to the hardware shop and purchased a variety of things. Busy for days and even working at night in his unusually built and outrageously painted outback backyard shed.      
     
The day had arrived and dad took Smoochy and I down to the small and empty village pond, to show us what he had done.      
     
He had built a maze of small, medium and large round pipes made out of new coloured plastic and he had even painted them with cool cosmic colours with unusual designs.      
     
He had looped and even double looped the three different coloured size pipes as they went down the hill and into the small village pond.      
     
Dad knew that the hot sun would keep evaporating the water from the small village pond, so he used his brains and connected the pipes up to the homes bathroom and kitchen drainage water pipes. He had even installed a filter to pump clean recycled clear water back into the pond.      
     
Dad told us, the small green coloured tube was for the clean recycled water and Smoochy was to use the medium, yellow coloured tube to whizz down and finally the largest red coloured tube, was for the whole family and friends to use. I named dad's creation the "Tremendously Terrific Triple Tumbling Turning Travelling Tubes".      
     
After days of having fun, I slid down for the last time, via the large red coloured tube to swim in the pond and guess who bobbed his head up from the water? It was my good old friend, Buck the Duck. I was so happy to have our friendly small village pond duck, back at last.      
     
Oh I almost forgot to tell you the instructions for the add-on JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra creation. Have you got a pen and paper at the ready?      
     
Here it is. Hold the bag upside down and make a small hole in the very right-hand corner at the bottom of the bag, get a straw and put it in the hole. Then place a cup near the bag and slowly pour the juice through the straw into the cup. Once done take the straw out and place it in the cup. Then make the small hole into a much bigger hole and empty the rest into your bowl.      
     
So now you have fruit in a bowl that is not too soggy anymore from the "Colourful Take-Away Fruit-Blast in a BAG" and if you could follow the instructions correctly you also have a cup of fruit juice made from the JiggyJiggy Side Kick Extra creation or for fun you can call it, if you can pronounce it.      
     
The "UpCDownPunchaHolePutinStrawPourtheJuiceinaCup"      
     
There you have it, but remember to keep it a secret ok?
© Fetchitnow
20 October 2019.
This children’s fun adventure book series, is only for children from ages, 1-100. So please enjoy.
Note: Please read these in order, from diary entry 1-12, to get the vibe of all of the characters and the colourful sense of this crazy mess.
Maegan  Sep 2012
Poetry
Maegan Sep 2012
Poems are a way of expressing yourself in another way,
Without being punished for having your say,
There are lots of topics to write about,
And I say the without a doubt,
You may not be that good at it,
But everyone can do it,
Whether the age difference is big or small,
Or whenther you are short or tall,
You could write about being happy or sad,
Even depressed or glad,
Maybe you want to stick to the basic things like free verse,
If so you could write about a mummy with a curse,
But if you want a harder challenge you could write a haiku,
But it would have to be about a cuckoo,
But always remember the haikus rule 5,7,5,
So you don't look stupid if we're broadcasting live,
You could write about a monkey and his dream,
And he dreamt that he was finally clean,
Or what about a vegemite sandwich,
No, wait, what about a whole poem dedicated to language,
I'm not sure don't you see,
None of these appeal to me,
What about a poem where a girl's explaining a poem,
Yes, that's it, you have finally got me out of my thought pit.

written by maegan cattermull
Remember I'm only 12
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
i actually did own a doberman pinscher called axl... yes: no e in the same. ****** was mad, what do you expect? his ears were sliced so he could look like some urukai orc of isengard... try trimming the ears of a human being: to then pretend "think" they'll be wiser... that part where they chop of the tail of a doberman? i wasn't around when that happened, i can clearly picture the plastic surgery on my axl... so what am i going to say about circumcision? makes the ******* mad! they're sending ****-picks to people... how about i just watch you smile? is circumcision the ideal motivation for preserving life? like you need the complete vuvla to be attracted by it? ******* surely isn't fun with that revision... just as much as saying: a billion ching changs... or we could do away with the lips and call these people the todkompflächeln; personally? i'd begin the aesthetic surgery on the ears, maybe making a few "elves" would help the situation... otherwise m.g.m. gets no mention, because those ******* don't even know what ******* with one feels like: i can peel mine back for *******... but you can't cloak with one during the grand practice of: taking a ****.

billions... it's starting to look very much like a *****,
given the character names... i mean: wags?
next season is bound to invoke the nick
*****... it has become an existential prison,
since the moon landing: bye bye
the brothers grimm and the fairytale...
i know this because someone has already
made the same conclusion...
billions? who'd i like to doppelgänger?
   mike wagner... scalp him, skin him, whatever,
i am trying to believe that i don't have
that wry smile of his when writing this,
the cheaky chappy type of smile,
what i can tell you is what happened yesterday
after my drinking session ended...
spring's impeding, *******, i'm going to
watch more television since i'll be sad having
moved from, what could be best described
as alaskan funfair... night by the 5pm mark...
i sometimes get the shakes...
but only out of anger, that boils down to
my neighbour complaining that i sometimes
lose the plot and say things aloud...
the boundaries i'm crossing is equivalent to a bird
singing in the night...
    but last night, was, spectacular...
   i forgot what chess even was...
   i had heidegger's *ponderings ii - vi

(in hardback) on the windowsill...
                       i had a crescent version and a complete
version of amitriptyline (25mg)...
       nurse! scalpel i'm getting a headache!
    ami-tri-pty-line (ptee line? or pti lean?
yes, lean, no fat on it;
   so as i was about to get the sucker punch
i was playing imaginary dominos
even if just that, or throwing invisible dice,
exchanging positions of these two pills
            and four swan (brand) filter tips...
i do remember saying something into the night,
what it was? i don't know.
            so it was either dominos or "throwing"
dice on a book on the windowsill,
moving the one complete pill and the other
bitten off crescent (what's that? about 13mg?)...
and the filter tips...
                and it was on a hardcover surface
of a book on a windowsill...
             i knew i would take the plunge at
some point, the question was when that would happen;
i don't know what i had to even cherish
the grace of thought at that moment...
the next oddity came with an empty glass
and trying to balance it on the parapet ledge...
it turned out to be a case of fractions...
     the tipping point stood at: two thirds...
it would never be done in halves, and certainly not
quarters...
              see... mm... money is fascinating
as a concept, how it was arrived at;
  i can know the man who invented the lightbulb
(jefferson, right? ol' tommy)... money?
   no clue... who could have "blinded" the greeks
to the extent where we stand now?
      the more i drink the more i think that this
cann't lead to any sort of accomplishment other than
the stated words...
    i do really retract into speaking verse that
i never write down... it's there one minute, gone the next;
but that domino / dice thing with 1.5 sleeping pills
and 4 cigarette tips (yes, i can roll a cigarette
like a machine, so the tips were not ***** by tokes
to remind people of marmite / vegemite of australia
colouring): i smoke cigarettes thinking about a sun-tan.
why was i doing this?
don't know, what's the point of playing domino
or throwing dice to gamble?
                     there is a chiral point to be made,
or at least a parallel point...
         a chiral-parallelism, as is the case with concept
of parallel per se...
such that title suggests i stole "something" that actually
steals...          hollywood and cuckoos...
      there are always two ways of saying the same
thing: moving forward, however dichotomous those
sayings are...
                  since that approach later turns into
a dualism that then eats at psychologism and morphs
into monism and: we're back at square one.
Viseract  Sep 2017
Bitter Beef
Viseract Sep 2017
Thought you could come up in my grill and ignite me, start beef
Well imma cook you through and through until it ruins your week
Because you're a waste of space and meat to me, honestly
I'd rather pull my teeth out with pliers and then slit all my arteries

The ****t that spills out from your mouth, no doubt
That people would rather meet the Father than live in your drought
Not sure which is worse, your words or Beck's bottled beer
When it comes to drying out my love of good things its unclear

Just for the record that ****t is liquid Vegemite
And it'll blow your a$$hol3 open like a six pack of dynamite
I'll stick by the bottles of ***** and my shots of tequila
Then whatever the f**k you call those bars, like
Terminator over being weird!
roasting the roast beef, dead to me
Arek  Sep 2019
Made In
Arek Sep 2019
my boomerang won't come back
because it's made in China
i should have had a better check
and read the fine print finer

my didgeridoo will not play
because it's made in Bali
apparently it's also made from clay
and perfect for Diwali

my painting has lost all it's dots
it's made in Bangladesh
only yesterday there were lots
but today sits in the trash

my patience now is wearing thin
on toast with Vegemite
i wonder where it's been made in
that my dog will not bite
Ryan O'Leary  Aug 2018
Texture.
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
Marmite is a *******
Vegemite is a conscious ******.

— The End —