Reminds me of
Waiting for the high to hit
Never as good
As last time.
The new discovery
To new discoveries.
It’s been a year since I typed some lines,
probably cuz it’s stuff like this,
I want to get laid
and i want to get ******
but instead all I feel is sick
Kedgeree thats tumbled dried
from 38 minutes of bad Elvis hips,
while legs pop like rockets
my eyes sink in my sockets
saliva swells in my cheeks
as I drift in disappointment
swimming in icy air to catch my confidence lost at sea
but its too far gone, so i just stare
at a laptops glare
thinking about my spots
my unstyled bramble of hair
my polo, too garish?
MY SPACK BRAIN!
too confident in thinking I looked smart?
as i wish for another heart
one thing sticks in my mind
a girl, or was it a boy,
looking like Johnny Rotten,
in Westwood striped dungarees and flames of hair
flashes of the Public Image, King Krule and all that in my headphones.
Words that are all in my head
as my stomach is sick
oh yeah, they played the killers
I like them
now my head is bleak like Mike Skinner
I wish I’d chosen earlier to have my dinner
another music reference lost on you
but stuck in my mind in bed
as I picture a red head
Why am I so bad at socialising?
When I get home
I'll drop my bags
And go and hug
I'll need a while to
I have gone
And though the house is small
I am thankful every day
A roof, a family just waiting
Here for me
I cannot see the sunset
The buildings are too high
But if we sit inside
We'll talk about all of our lives
The flowers shes still watering
The projects she has sewn
And every time i visit I feel like
I have just grown
I do not want to flee
I feel my sister somewhere near
A chance to catch up, when I leave
I know I'll shed a tear.
A peaceful mind
Because it's years
Free of judgement
At a price
Tuesday 12 - Back when you're just starting out. You know nothing... And that is great.
i have not quite learned,
"these will be the best years of your life"
echo in my mind
over the sounds of my gasps
for air, in between tears-
sometimes from laughter,
more often, from loss,
or perspective of it.
"yes i love it"
"yes i'm having a good time"
is not convincing
the only person,
important in my own happiness;
the hero of my emotions
learning to say no, stop, over now
learning to contain
a shout, a judge, a scream
not quite, but a little bit
the [best] two years of my life
have now so suddenly received
a forecast of much rain and clouds
always on the brink of hail.
feelings about my uni years
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall," you say.
Would you really like to be privy to all
that drama and intrigue, without ever being noticed?
Sounds nice, I suppose.
But I'll let you in on a little secret-
That, my dears, is false advertising.
Truth is, people always notice flies
They just choose to ignore them
And lower their voices when you buzz by on sugar-spun wings of self-confidence-
Maybe it's just all in your head
Maybe you've misinterpreted things-behind kaleidoscope eyes
It always looks like there are more of them than you.
So you gain confidence
You hover on the fringes of their circle
And drone out a low hum of 'what've you been up to today?'
Or 'how're you?'
Or 'long day, huh?'
The response is offhand
A verbal flick of the wrist
Batting the ball back into your conversational court
Because coming at you with a fly swatter
Or a rolled up Cosmo magazine
Takes more effort than they're willing to give.
You buzz about some more
Hoping maybe the silence will entice them to engage
They can't hear your buzzing
Or they won't.
So instead you stand
Fly on the wall
Content with watching the light catch your wings
Repeatedly wringing your hands near your face
In a way they probably think is malevolent
I promise I'm not plotting-
I'm just juggling the weight of my loneliness
Maybe if I shift it from one palm to another
Somehow I will lighten the load.
Take comfort in this, little fly-
The sun makes your wings iridescent
And even though they'll never get close enough to see that, you can.
It's not a trick of the light
Your fractal eyes do not deceive you-
They are duplicate.
A poem about social exclusion.
I read about death and violence
I proof read,
and top up
and hand in
and sometimes I get full marks.
Marks on the body.
Mark my words.
(Mark my work.)
Karl ******* Marx
The communist who launched a thousand memes.
My oh my.
The necropolitical is like a funnel
only you didn't forget to put the oven on
and people are inside the oven and so are you.
It's not like with the toaster
when ur mum tells u to scrap the black crumbs into the drain.
It's not like you can unburn the burnt.
Oh and the skin grafts?
There's a waiting list for that.
The waiting list?
There's a form for you to get on that.
You need to print them out.
OUT OF ORDER.
Buy your own.
OUT OF STOCK.
Your bank balance?
Sorry you have reached us out of outside of our operating hours.
Outside of our
Outside of our operating
of our operating hours
Thanks for holding! A representative will be with you shortly...
[Dave Dobbyn music continues playing through the phone]
university and study link and banks and institutionalised violence are all ******* ridiculous and need to stop
I've crawled off to die in a cowards shoe.
The culmination of my efforts.
A disheveled shape held together with glue.
What push do I have left?
When I've spent all I have.
My last quarter in the gum ball machine of life.
Looking around at all the others who've given up.
Is it my time? - considering the strife.
Uni projects really take it out of you...
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015