Paddy Martin
Jan 26, 2011
An Australian Summer Sonnet.
I pray thee sun thou should set,
or take thy leave better yet,
wouldst at last my thirst be gone,
But alas thee linger, and linger on.

There be no flower not yet dead,
no water flows in yonder river bed.
'Tis a heat where nought doth grow,
nor doth thee ever mercy show.

Dry of skin and parch of throat,
a man doth need no overcoat.
Thy rays doth burn mine eyes,
they do not hear mine mercy cries.

If there be a place where chill be found,
'Tis there it be that I be bound,
A place where there be no burning sun,
show it to me, so to it I shall run.

(c) 26th January 2010
with apoligies to all you Shakespeare freaks
I was thinking how Will would have handled our Oz summer heat.

Good Day spoken in a bad austrailian accent
bad juju voodoo clear light poltergeist on disablity
Hoarding every scrap of miserable memories attached to trash
your apartment is a holiday for nightmares and childmolesters
******* magazines, old sanitary napkins , bad vhs movies
lay like dead soldiers waiting for the war to end
Black bags and boxes scattered every where are villages to rats
and every unknown pestilence you can only read about in medical textbooks.
half eaten pizzas covered in pickles dried up sadly looking at empty pills
You have no hold on me I can't understand your pain nor will i listen to your overdramatic ******* about whoever
or scheming to defraud Walmart
Your mutilation is a scar spelling sociopathic miscreant child trapped in an old mismatched shell of no clear gender.
Your diagnostic prophecies from the dsm5 dismissed like school on a snow day.
Will commands the unentanglement
uncurse
unfear
dispell  all your contradictions accusations monologrhthyms
bad music choices and echoes of muttered mustard.
only truth will be uplifted
Peace be with you
whereever you are currently infesting enjoy your dora the explorer ice cream
Was there ever a floor in here?

I called a friend of mine,
you see I've always scratched her back
you know and she's scratched mine.

What makes me crazy is that
she's always one to take,
she's always on the make.

You gimmie and grab
and turn around and gouge
out my eyes,
you talk real ****,
you don't answer any of my whys.
My thousands of whys.

Well so long now,
sorry but I got to go...

Yes so long, it's been a slice,
shaking loose of you is like
putting down a vice.

Golden earrings and pretty bobbles
couldn't clean up your act.
You've walked barefoot across the floor, broken fragments of glass,
everywhere, and you were there,
but, oh so was I.
I was there too

I've given you my very best,
yes I've given you my very best,
and what do I get?
I get treated worse than all of them,
worse than all the rest.

I wish I could remember
if it was a movie or if
I  heard it in a dream.
It doesn't matter much now,
Because when
I see you coming
I just want to leave.

Just like Dylan said, "A whole lot of people dying tonight
from the disease of conceit."

I've tried taking you aside
and softly admonishing  you,
that ended in a stalemate,
what good did it  do..

You wore my Austrailian hat and battered it black and blue.
You took my painting and  threw away the frame,
I lend you money
and you drink it away.

I don't talk about drawing a line,
I just do it and
if you're in you're right mind
you won't cross it
unless you really want
the **** to hit the fan.

This conflict, I must confess,
well it can make me cry.
every time you
turn around
you're telling me another lie.

I feel a lot of ambivalence .
I don't want to hear you any more.
Some times I think I want silence,
some times I think I want to even the score.

Man, I am on
cloud nine,
look what anger does,
as if I'm in a fight.
I just get to average,
but by no means normal,
the only normal I have found
is the cycle on a  washing machine.

I'm not sinkin' in a hole
that was dug real deep by you,
thinking
this old world is all ****** up
and
you don't want to play the game,


You'd just end up leaving me,
so sad and feeling so full of shame.

Do you love me, let me count the ways,
it's not that I don't care,
it's not that I don't want to be there.

I just don't know any more...
what's that sound
telling me I have fix it,
that I have to
put it right.
Now you're looking
to put me down,
always wanting
to start a fight.

You're acting so abstract,
while with me it's so 'as a matter of fact'.
Knowing no one has even half the answers.