To impregnate a women, you have to feel the horn
Being soft is not much good, or if your ***** is worn
Many men they want a ****, but don't want babies born
It's best to avoid men like Boyd, because he's low on corn

If you have unprotected ***, and your cocktails on the prawn
Then pregnancy is immanent, unless a line is drawn
Wearing a sheaf is sensible, that's if it isn't torn
Make sure your rubbers in one piece, or watch some ******* ****

****** stimulation can be achieved, when there is a certain need
You soon had some excuses, when your rubber tore at speed
There's no need to lie, because it's just for your own greed
Suddenly your low on ***** after you had your ****** feed

You didn't mind your pleasure, when you layed and did the deed
Some consequences matter, when you know where things may lead
No mention of low ***** counts, you came and spread your seed
Pregnancies have happened, because low ***** counts can still breed

Hay now Boyd I wonder how, your ***** count is so low ?
It seems to me your capable, but you don't want to know
If you can break a ******, then it just goes to show
The only thing you can count, is a free cash money flow

Counting *****'s not easy, was it sitting in a row
Low ***** count is an excuse, for just another ***
Responsibility is not your thing, you want to ***** and go
You don't care you've had your ***, instead of going slow

Avoid Boyd because I think, his low count is a lie
It can get through rubber sheafs, and it doesn't even try
Destroying morning after pills, it looks like his counts sky high
His Low count cant be so low, to kiss pregnancy goodbye

He's implied the kids not his, its enough to make you cry
It didn't bother him before, when he layed in the pie
Now that pregnancies occurred, he's now done up his fly
Suddenly his ***** is low, and that's the reason why

Isn't Boyd just a boy, but with an added D
The laziness of proper names, at least to a degree
What's his parent's thinking of, are they completely of their tree
What's wrong with naming a boy, ben or pete or lee

Is it a bit like catchphrase, where you say what you see
Was there born a baby boy, holding brook bond tea
I don't think Boyd is a real name, but you may disagree
A better name I could supply, and I wouldn't charge a fee

Poor old Boyd his ***** is low, they must be quite annoyed
Their waiting for orders to go, but now there unemployed
Most of them are killed off, and the rest just get destroyed
Not one of those *****'s hanging high, unlike Harold Lloyd

He's claiming that his count is low, he must be paranoid
******* that rips rubber, that's some ***** you should avoid
Combating morning after pills, once his ***** has been deployed
If you value your own dignity, for **** sake avoid Boyd

Who owns Jack Jones, is he part of your clan?
Does Mr Jones actually exist, is he a real live man
Why does he resemble Boyd, is this part of his plan
Jack is such a manly name, but so is Phil and Stan

Don't use "Boy" within your name, you'll impose an adult ban
Boyish names are not much good, there not like John or Dan
You wouldn't call grandfathers boys, or say girl to your nan
Stop abusing ol' Jack Jones, and avoid Boyd if you can

Boyd is easy to avoid, its easier than we thought
An alteration has took place, but that's what Boyd has sought
Elusiveness is not too smart, because already you've been caught
We've worked out who Jack Jones is, and it accounts to nought

Your lacking iron clad alibis, nothing is set in wrought
It's criminal to own Jack Jones, so please would you abort
No rights to use another name, your being a bad sport
Is Boyd considered as a name, or is it "boy" for short

Intellect is not too strong, that's only what you think
Using an alias is unwise, if you show a photo link
Why bother changing to Jack Jones, how low you gonna sink
Your mother's been kept in the dark, about releasing your white ink

Is Jack Jones the one, who's been sinking in the pink?
Wasn't it Boyd's low ***** count, that went inside the mink?
You are skating on thin ice, when there's cracks in the rink
Just who owns Jack Jones, when Boyd's back from the brink

Identities are broken, just what did you think you'd gain
Your just a ******* imbecile, to think you'd relieve the strain
You can't hide yourself away, you must be quite insane
It's not as though your mother lives, in germany or Spain

Everyone knows who you are, it's in your face and plain
It is just pathetic to make Jack Jones the main
Jack Jones is just too common, you should try a name like shane
Just don't **** about with names, or Jack Jones will be jocks Jane

Your ashamed of what you've done, you try to skulk and hide
You didn't mind the ******, or having your fun ride
Be a man and not a "Boyd", it's time to turn the tide
Come on Boyd you did not avoid, legs that were astride

Morality is in pursuit, but you have no sense of pride
Who's Jack Jones supposed to be, now  sperms slid down the slide
Other aliases may exist, do you have bits on the side
Or are you only interested, when things are open wide

Is Jack Jones the father, or is he born from rubber clones
Boyd is the spitting image, he's been seen on mobile phones
Hostile namesake takeovers, do you have *** slaves and drones
There's no sense in your deception, because this isn't Game of Thrones

We don't want identities stolen, you borrow names like loans
Jack's already being used, it's a name that someone owns
Maybe names can hurt you, as well as sticks and stones
So cease in your activities , you don't know who owns Jack Jones

briano alliano performs on venus party trap




you see welcome to the trap and i had a great night at the poetry slam

where i met this man who said m6y poem was great, well, he liked it

in fact when i didn’t win it, he wanted to heckle the organisers, well, it was

fun, but i like the organisers too, but this man realiy believed in me, ya know

especially when i told him i am putting art in an exhibition

here is my first song, the poem i read at the poetry slam ,here goes

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

and presents to make us happy

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

party on till next week, man

yeah, celebrate christmas in july

dashing thru the cold canberra winters day

you see i think my reindeers are in hibernation today

because the air is very cold, and it’s a great day to say

merry christmas my good friends in the month of july

jingle bells oh buddy it’s jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

bring out the warm eggnog

and put up the christmas tree, and have santa on a stick

then you get those lollypops, and give ‘em an almighty lick

and give ‘em an almighty lick, my mate

ya see last night at the poetry slam, this bloke said i really sang the last bit with a lot of guts

and determination, and now as i left last night i saw a fight taking place, and i knew if i don’t stare

everything will be alright, and now here is my next song

i am tired, but i can’t sleep, i need to have a siesta, yeah mate yeah

i need to relax and enjoy my life, and have a soft drink yeah mate yeah

carn the swans carn the raiders carn the packers, like that man last night spoke to me for

yeah mate yeah, and now time for, here is my next song, loving friends and loving family


You see when I was young and I always was trying to be cool
I had a family who tried to stop myself from being cool, and I was
So fristrated with that, I said, no I am cool, but I wssn't cool, I wanted
To laugh at everybody and I laughed so loud that my psrents were telling me
To quiten down and this made me angry, you see I got violent and I started to rant
And rave and it took me over a long time to understand that they were treating me
Like a cool kid, but I was young and stupid and it seems like they were teasing me
And giving me a hard time, and i also said that I wanted to be cool and always go out having a good time and getting ****** as a parrot, you see, my voices were putting those thoughts
Right in my head, giving me a lot of problems, making me very very sick of being in this crazy situation, and I am glad I have this amazing loving family and good friends, to help me through any kind of situation.
You see when I try and muck with my father like a mans kid, my brother would say, don't muck with him, he's not like us, don't much with him, no he is not a young dude. Be like us, and be a young dude and be a little shy boy, you try and be oool every day, and you try and give stay up all night while everybody else is going to bed, so you can go, hey to him, but the thing about it is, that it is the fact that he is living in the past.
So then my loving family and loving friends made me feel better about how much I wanted to
Move on and live life to the fullest, you see he will laugh like a man should and then say, heh heh heh heh , i am a cool boy, I am not a little shy boy, I sit up all night, I don't go to bed, you see I am superior, but my mates call me a complete loser.
Because this man is a total and absolute ******, and it makes me absolutely crazy, and this drives me crazy, you know very crazy, but I always call it a loving family and loving friends, I don't need these friends who only like me because I sit underneath them.



here is my next song, titled mashed potato finger nail at the skate park, here goes

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
here is my next song, titled as much fun as it sounds, here at the trap

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
as much fun as it sounds to heckle, i still remember the american dude, but this man last night was a cool dude, buddy, cool man sam


and have you ever been a cool kid to your dad, and had people laugh at you, i felt that last night when i didn’t join in the heckle, but that man

was nice to me, saying he admires me, but i am not gay, i am bradley simmons

Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.


******* that look a lot of wind singing this to you at the venus party trap and when i got home i was told to sit there little shy boy and let your school mates play air guitar, i was happy too, because of sam

at the poetry slam, thinking i had guts tom read a poem and not win, who cares, it’s a fun night out dudes

You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes

see you soon, venus party trap, and t

Boyd and Candace
I am a backdoor man
On the front line
A hard luck soldier
I write prisoner's wives
From Western Union company

I am a dungeon keeper
If the weather allows it
A hue and cry calls from under
Tethered to a teletype desk
I am a victim of my pride
Boyd and Candace hear my plea

I am chained to a job
If I love my wife
My son grows seven
If I scaremonger in Plymouth
To call politicians fake
Boyd and Candace let me pull a gun

The judges reprimand me
With their eyes of steel
I escape my own anger
By praying that God grant
Me my death by a cocked revolver
Boyd and Candace pull a roll of tens on my bill of death

Cheers!

I propose a toast to the pink elephant in the room, that with the encroaching darkness ******* lightly across his abdomen, seeping through kidneys and out, out, through veins unaware that they are carrying their own demise.


Cheers to you!

Every time I see you, the chasm in my heart gets just a bit bigger.

And she, darling companion, falls deeper. So now she’s submerged in this canyon-- something sickly beautiful, said to be carved from glacial ice thousands of years before.

She’s irritating the muscle,
tiny toes picking off bits of scabs just beginning to heal.

And then I see you once more.

Cheers to you!

You’re in the center of this pyramid. You hold your wife above, your son and younger daughter beside you, an arm around each. Buy she lies below, unknowingly wait for all of this to fall on her.

You  balance my life on this precipice. Doom sleeps on either side. I’ll fall slowly to the left, wake the monster. It’s barbs will dig through flesh and I’ll stand-- an audience member.

You’ve grown too skinny, turned so pale. I wonder if your veins have grown dark as you’ve become accustomed to carrying poison meant to **** it before it kills you.

Cheers to you!

You who wont, can’t, end the world.

I pull myself up and out—emerge from my rabbit hole of ignorance.                                                       ­            
I have this fear of the cutting edge of dragonfly wings-
How unoriginal.

We all let the hollow swallow us cleanly down, almost forgetting the tiny 
pebble-  bringer of doom and resident of the gizzard- we will most certainly meet in the course of our journey.

I get sent secret messages of affliction—a disheartened face here, the nervous twiddling of thumbs there. Secret, I say, as they appear of fog and disappear with the flutter of an eyelash. They’re all my own, sent with sonar like that of the blue whale.

One looks born of red, achieving different color as eyes move inward. A girl wearing a Parisian hat and a scream that’s almost silent. Another comes silently during a drive, more sensation than image. Everything slows. It’s hard to conjure words, to make the right motions.

I’m reminded that life is a paint palate, a measure of darkness. I know there are people much farther along than you and I.

Cheers to you!

Being submerged in pain makes a person different.                                                       ­                                   

Born of loss, causing loss-- pain never really disappears.

Sore that festers, oozes, scabs, gets torn open.

Cheers!

Raise your glass as I speak so quietly, I can only hope
You’ll hear this from across the room.

Raise your glass to the memories I have of your hair- now reduced to silvery down- your strength.

Raise your glass to your daughters, your son, your wife. I think you know I cry for them—not you. Two girls. One living in two worlds- mine and a world of parties and experimentation. The other so smart and so repressed. One boy. Unbeknownst to him, he won’t know how to proceed without a father figure-figure father.  Unbeknownst to him, he’ll have to proceed without. A woman. She’s lost in this never ending labyrinth of test results; given too many choices when there should only be left or right. And yet, she’s not ready for it to end.

Raise your glass to Insanity, the mother of Brilliance! Endurance, the daughter of pain.  

Cheers.

Sometimes, when I go for a drive,
I see myself in the side-view mirror.

And I say:
“Man, who’s that stud in the side-view?”

And other times when I go for a drive,
I see myself in the visor mirror.

And I say:
“Man, who’s that stud in the visor?”

But most times when I go for a drive,
I see myself in the rear-view.

And I say:
“Man, that stud is never going to get anywhere if he keeps living in the past.”

I sew therefore I am. This is what women do she thought, even with the television on, muttering and flickering in the corner. But its turning on was but a reflex action to being alone when she came down stairs after reading to her child, and the sitting room empty of his presence. Only the cats occupied her chair where she now sat and sewed.

For once her sewing pile had his nightshirt, a tear at the bottom, a missing button. It was old, well-worn, of a light blue stripe. That was what he wore in bed, and, as he invariably read to her each night, she would slip her hand inside the shirt, across his stomach to a place she had discovered at the top of his pelvis that seemed to be there for her hand to rest. One night she had felt the tear and thought, I must mend this.

She knew something of the feminist canon: Rozsika Parker's Subversive Stitch lay browsed but unread on her bookshelf. The impact of the book was enough: that the relationship between women’s lives and embroidery had brought sewing out from the private world of female domesticity into the fine arts and created a breakthrough in art history and criticism. She remembered writing that somewhere in a student essay. But mending clothes was hardly fine art. And then she remembered Sashiko, the ‘little stabs’, that functional stitching of clothes in Japan.

They had met at the station for a 30-mile train journey to a nearby city. It was a blue-cold December day and they had felt warmed by seeing from the train window a covering of snow on the ploughed fields. She had worn her grey coat with the green lining and an indigo blue-pattern scarf, a swinging denim skirt and orange-patterned top. Tights and boots. He: she had forgotten. Funny that, remembering what she had worn, but for the man she was beginning to feel so hopelessly in love with, and by the end of that day, hold in her heart, seemingly, for evermore, she could not remember. His old brown jacket perhaps . . . No, she couldn’t be certain.

He had loved the exhibition. It was an unencountered world, though he had experienced Japan, but not, as he said (at length), the rural fastness of an offshore island where women were loggers and men were firemen. It was the simplicity of the stitch that captured his attention, the running white-cotton stitch on the blue indigo workware, occasionally a red thread on a decorative piece – a fireman’s tunic. This was stitching about mending, reinforcing a worn area by stitching on a new patch, and in doing so novel patterns evolved, so novel that this traditional stitch became an inspiration for Reiko Sudo, Hideko Takahshi, and the cutting edge textile designers of 20C Japan. It was reuse that made sense.

He had loved the names of the stitches: passes in the mountain, fishing nets, the interlaced circles of two birds in flight, woven bamboo, the seven treasures of Buddha.  She remembered the proximity of him, touching his arm to show, and sometimes just to touch his arm – yes, he was wearing that old brown coat. It was before they were lovers, but she was sure then they were in love, and it seemed impossible and quite wrong to be in this large gallery, flowing too and fro, apart then together, apart then together. She thought: he knows how I want to be when looking at such things; I need space. And she supposed he needed space too because the moment they entered the gallery he left her alone. But that coming together was, and remained ever after, a warm thing, and she remembered that day being a little aroused by it being so.

Later, they had walked a short way from the gallery to a tiny cottage-like bookshop he knew, a bookshop full of impossibly large books on art and architecture. He had something to find: The Crystal Chain Letters – architectural fantasies Bruno Taut and his circle by Ian Boyd Whyte. There had been her favourite  Mark Hearld cards and his collaged pictures in the window. She went upstairs and knelt on the wooden floor to take out the books on gardens on the lowest shelves. The winter sun had poured through a nearby window, warming her face till it glowed. But she was already glowing inside. And he came and knelt behind her. He rested his head on her shoulder and she had turned and put her arms around him. They had kissed, a delicate, exploratory, yet to be lovers kiss that had made her feel weaker than she already felt. She knew she would remember that moment, and she had, here on her chair years later, now in a different sitting room from the one she had returned to that evening without him, returning to her husband and children. And she had missed him beyond any measure and written to him the next day, a letter written in her head before she had slept, and then the following morning, with the children at school, she had lain on her bed and calmly touched herself to remember his kiss, their kiss.

Death comes to all of us but it's sad when a life is destroyed.
I recently learned that I lost an old friend and his name was Bobby Boyd.
It had been about thirty years since I last saw him, we were friends at school.
Sadly, Bobby was killed one sad and tragic day while he was driving his vehicle.
I didn't know that he had died until just a few days ago.
It's sad but he was a person who I'm happy to have known.
I know that his untimely death devastated his loved ones terribly.
But he isn't gone forever, when Jesus returns, so will Bobby.

Kidnapped



Hi my name is Brian Allan and every day I am being followed by people who
Want to kidnap me, and at the moment I say to them, you can't ever kidnap a
Member of the Allan family, and that made me feel good, till today when my school
Girl friend Julia Clarke was abducted by these same kidnappers and the problem
With that is, that instead of ringing the Clarke household for the ransom demand,
They rang me and I haven't that much money, but really they want to kidnap me
As well, well at least that is what I thought, and I am one step ahead, I deleted
The message on the answering machine and then went out to the backyard, saying
You can kidnap Julia, but she ain't my daughter, so you kidnappers aren't getting
Your hands on this Allan family member.
The kidnappers had Julia ******* in a cave out in Michelago and they wanted me because
It would mean they have the shy young dudes are finally out of the way, and when te kidnapper said that, Julia screamed through her gag saying I am cool, not shy, and you
Are going to suffer, if you say I am shy again, but te kidnapper just laughed at Julia, whole Julia was shaing even if the chains were tied to her very tight.
Every day Brian went to school, he hung with the cool boys, who were Patrick Gloright and Mark Darding and Brian Allan had fun but he was hiding the fact that he was thinking of being kudnapped from them, to increase his mojo and it worked and also Brian Allan said to Patrick and Mark that when this kidnapper gets him that Brian will bring them down with him, because Brian was too scared to be kidnapped with just a girl, he wanted bys with him.
And Suddenly one day when Patrick and Brian were on their way to a footy game, the kidnapper, who recognized Brian Allan decided to kidnap Brian and Pat together, and his
Plan worked like a charm, and then the kidnapper told Patrick that he really just wants Brian Allan and Julia Clarke, and then he told Patrick that he is no longer a cool kid, yes
The kidnapper thought, I have shy couple, Brian Alan and Julia Clarke and hooligan Patrick
Gloright, none of you are getting free from me, heh heh heh heh heh.
Patrick was scared and demanded the kidnapper through his gag to let us 3 go and tree was no way that he will do that and tr 3 victims remained ******* and crying and struggling to get free, while the kidnapper was out having a party for the capture of Brian Allan and Patrick Gloright,meh celebrated while ****** Julia, which made her muscles in her leg tense up and Julia screamed ****, but little did she know that she was in the middle of the bush, where all the free folk are kidnappers and rapists.
Then after the kidnapper was through ****** Jula, he took Patrick and Brian and began to **** them, cause no more are they tough boys, they are two shy little boys, and when the
Kidnapper ***** them both Brian'and Patrick's *****'s were very stiff and they both said us boys are clean cut and mature and the kidnapper said, yes and all mine, I love nice boys
And then he put Pat and Brian Allan back in te cave with **** marks on them, meanwhile the 3 victims had nasty rope burns all over their bodies from, the heavy chains that pressed on their bodies.
The kidnspper didn't want to ring the families for ransom demands because he realised his victims were trouble makers so he decided to drive them around Australia, but the kidnapper looked at the sights and julia Clarke, Patrick Gloright and Brian Allan were used as circus animals, yes the kidnapper decided to **** his victims with an audience who think this is an x rated show, so they think it is above  board, even when the victims screamed, they thought it was part of the show.
The kidnapper took his victims right around the country and then he had emails, saying that
Countries like England and Holland and USA, wanted the kdnapper to take his circus victims over there to make some big money.
It worked like a charm and the kidnapper pocketed all the cash and constantly said to his victims, suffer little teenagers, you aren't normal anymore, I won't **** you, I will just keep you teenagers kidnapped for the rest of school years, and you won't grow into adults, because when I **** myself at the age of 46' when you kids are adults, I will take you to hell with me, ya trouble makers.
After about 3 years of being bashed, *****, whiled and mind you even though, we were kids of the new generation which is nice, we thought that we will never escape, so we planned to look for each other in heaven, cause we are starting to think that they are kidnapped for more reasons than he is letting on, because, we aren't as strong as we used to be, Brian Allan, who was stronger and had evidence with strength from eating vegetables, is now the type of kid he hates and Brian Allan yells out, HELP can anybody save me and then suddenly the police dropped in on the kidnappers little exhibition and they arrested him while Brian Allan had pizza and pasta and meat and two veg to get his strength back and if anybody tried to kidnap Brian Allan again, Brian learnt karate to beat these kidnappers while Patrick and Julia both died two weeks after the rescue because they coukdn't get their strength back and Brian Allan befriended Pat and Julia's families to help them through a hard time in their lives and Brian Allan after 10 years since the rescue was given the Harod Frendly award for helping the Clarkes and the Glorightz through their hard times
And everything turned out fine as julias sister Bernette had a baby boy who she named Brian and the girl she named Julia and Wayne Gloright got married to Yvonne and had 2
Boyd, who they named Brian and Patrick, yes Brian Allan was a hero but had to be aware that of this kidnapper came back to beware because it was Brian, he wanted to ****, not Pat, but Brian visited their graves every night and still has nightmares now, even when the kidnapper was murdered in jail, but that is expected
The end

Since fifty-eight
the jaycees come
rounding up rattlers
in Sweetwater, folk from all over
for a weekend in March
when snakes leave the hibernaculum
and slide back up
into west Texas and the wind.

Mr. Herrera knew his Luis and I
rode the seven-thirty bus,
had cokes and potato chip sandwiches
with Mitchell and Thomas
after Sunday school,
shot jackrabbits that ate alfalfa
in the dairy pastures.

Dad said he reckoned,
so I took Mr. Herrera’s apron
and offer and brought my knife
that Luis sharpened to a razor
and shaved his forearm hairs with.  
Frank tried that once,
sliced himself like a tomato
when he slipped.

Snake shop’s a butchery,
down the main street
past the dairy mart
and primary school,
in the yellow open scrub.  
If buzzards had noses like dogs
they’d flock, smell that
snake blood from Mexico.

Rattlesnake skinning
is all stringy guts, soft skin,
pulled teeth and poison
squeezed out of gum sockets
like milk from an old cow’s ****.  
Fancy skins with eyeholes
and lips cost ten,
specialty of Mr. Herrera.
Headless strip plus rattle
just two dollars the foot.
Cut the belly lengthwise
and rip,
easy near the backbone
where it catches.  

Out-of-towners buy anything.
Wallets, boots, belts with snakeskin
sewed or tacked on,
lucky rattles, picture frames
for proof of their longest catch.  
God-fearing jaycees doing good
for our communities will eat
deep-fried snake meat,
like tough old chicken,
but good with black-eyed peas
and sweet tea on the side.  

The women even come
once the round-up is done,
the church women, the Jesus women
with belief
and pistachio pudding
with marshmallows,
like Mrs. Howard
who shrieked “Boyd!”
and lectured about hygiene
when she saw me in my apron
and ****** to my elbows,
menacing the street.  

The biggest round-up days
we worked late, past midnight.
Past the dairy mart hours,
so once the skins
were all peeled and stretched
and the sticky linoleum
hosed down some,
Luis and I walked back through town,
deserted, dark





except lights from Roscoe and Roby
and even big Abilene
miles away, shining
across the flat nothing,
coyotes yip yip yipping
somewhere near the lake farther north.

Luis showed me how to eat peanuts
shells and all
and let me try on his brother’s
high school letter jacket.  
Late night in Sweetwater is a nothing.  
The wind never stops blowing,
and there’s nobody else
on the ******* planet.

The Raiders show raiders v st george at GIO Stadium

    with johnny brown and Sue Longways




johnny’   welcome dudes to GIO stadium to this match between the dragons and the raiders and this is going to be a

great match, the raiders are 11th and the dragons are at 14, and whoever wins, I can guarantee it will be a spectacle

and i have Pete from Hawker with us now with a poem for us, hoping to get the Raiders into top swing

Pete”    ok dudes let’s swing it

you see the bad and mean green machine, big and strong and fast and mean

you see you shouldn’t try and stop these men in green, cause we are 3 positions higher than the opposition

Johnny’  well, short but sweet, and have you been worried about form in some matches

Pete’   well, yes, but that makes no difference, the raiders are going to win dudes, i will sing it again

you see we are the bad and mean green machine, big and strong and fast and mean

you see you shouldn’t try and stop these men in green, cause we are 3 positions higher than the opposition

Johnny’   well thanks Pete and now here is Sue Longways with another fine poem from the crowd

Sue’   thanks Johnny and what a great atmosphere here at GIO Stadium today, a great twilight match, and everyone

is in fine voice to cheer the raiders to beat the dragons tonight, and here is John Barten from Queanbeyan and he hates

how the Raiders went to Canberra all those years ago, so he sings a dragons tune

John’   go the dragons go the dragons

go the mighty dragons team

you see it’s only early in the season

go the mighty dragons cause the raiders moved here

I know we shouldn’t hold a grudge, mate, but i am and there is nothing you can do oh no

go the mighty dragons and i will go for them till the Raiders go back to Seiffert Oval, dudes

Sue”   thanks John and now here is Harold from Lyneham

Harold’   i am the bad and mean raiders fan

we supply the best coming out of the can

you see i go to the footy with mates george and dan

you see we’ll hit ya hit ya hit ya the mighty green machine

Sue’  thanks Harold and now here is the Raiders team, bring on the team

Jordan Rapana and Sisa Waqa and Jarrod Croker and Jarrad kennedy and edrick lee and blake austin and Mitchell Cornish


and Shannon Boyd and Josh Hodgson and Dane Tilse and Josh Papali and Sia Solicia and Shaun Fensom

and the 4 interchange players  Josh McRone and Frank-Paul Nuuausala and Paul Vaughan and Luke Bateman

and now here is Ken from Symonston with his poem

Ken”   i have been coming out to the GIO stadium every time we play

you see it’s fun when we win, but when we lose, we certainly do ****** pay

and the main thing about it is, we beat the easy teams and beat the hard teams but never at the best time

come on Raiders, it’s surely the time to win, oh ****** yeah


sue”   thanks Ken and now here is Rob with his jingle

Rob”     Run Raiders run

as we charge onto the GIO stadium yeah

run raiders run you see we have the team, we’ll win oh yeah

yeah we will come a running, and score a hundred tries

yeah that will be so cool,

run raiders run, oh yeah the Raiders are the team to beat i hope

run raiders run

they are the team that will thrash the opposition yeah

you see we won one and lost one

run raiders run

yeah the mighty raiders, will be our son of a gun

Sue”    thanks Rob for that and now here is the dragons team


first is Peter Mata’utia and Etonia Nabuli and Dan Nielson and Dylan Farrell and Jason Nightingale

and gareth Widdop and Benji Marshall and Leeson Ah Mau and Mitch Rein and George Rose

and Tyson Frizell and Joel Thompson and Jack de Belin

and the interchange men are trent Merrin and Heath L”Estrange and Rory O’Brien and Mike Cooper and Jake Marketo

and here is Mike from Jerrabomberra with his jingle

oh yeah those dragons yeah, they win more than the raiders yeah

they supply all the tries, in fact more tries than the locals, why don’t they win the grand

well i think i know, it’s because we lose our playing ability after thrashing the raiders here and anywhere

so go the dragons, go the mighty dragons, the right team to win the match

sue’   ok thanks Mike and now here is Keith from Latham with his song

carn the carn the carn the mighty raiders team, please dudes don’t make us say **** mate

make our raiders team win, carn the raiders carn the raiders, watch our team win well

on our home ground see, go the mighty raiders for a great victory

ya see i live in Latham and in my lounge room i have raiders cushions and raiders tables and heaps

of videos too including the great grand final victories in ’89 and “91 and the great ‘94

they haven’t won a grand final since in the first grade oh no

but if they win a few games where they don’t drop the ball too much

they will play so ****** hard, GO THE RAIDERS, DUDES

Sue’   ok that is it for me, and now back to Johnny

Johnny”  thanks Sue for telling us the teams and letting us hear some great home truths, let’s hope the

Raiders can win tonight, and now here is ?Bob from Cook with a jingle

Bob’   go the raiders go the raiders, do ya reckon we have the stamminer to win today

go the raiders go the raiders, should we win, should we win

twinkle twinkle raiders pack, how i wonder whether you’ll win

up above the GIO park tonight, make sure we clean this game free of fights

twinkle twinkle raiders pack, go the raiders through and through

Johnny’ thanks Bob and now here is Ernie from Higgins with his rhyme

hey ****** ****** the dragons are ready, are they going to win

all have the raiders put all their dropping the ball crap in the flaming bin

Shaun Fensom laughed at this little rhyme, as hopefully the raiders grab the 2 points

Johnny’  thanks Ernie and first my tip, well to the ladder, i say Raiders, on current form, well raiders be 6, could be more

and who do you support Sue

Sue’    well to the ladder, the Raiders, but on current form, dragons by 2, but i could change

Johnny”   ok, we’ll be back at half time, ok, here on the Raiders show

GO THE CANBERRA RAIDERS

Are You running with me, Jesus?
through the tunnel we call life;
through the many slings and arrows,
of the ugly thing called strife?
Until the race is finished Lord,
we run with great conviction;
being honest with each person,
offering only peace, not friction.
Are You running with me, Jesus?
in this world that says You're dead:
in this world that chooses money,
and just gives You up instead.
They overfeed their bellies.
like their politics and greed;
they're chasing false beliefs,
they know not what they need.
Are You running with me, Jesus?
in the heartache of the night;
in the weary daytime hours,
we must go on with the fight.

Bradley Simmons is a cool kid to his dad, and now he is happy with dad





Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.

THE SWEET CARESS OF ANY HUMAN HEART

Amory Clay and Logan Mountstuart
getting drunk in Boyd's Bar
"To Life!" they say "To Life!"

*

Amory and Logan are of course the main characters in William Boyd's books ANY HUMAN HEART and most recently THE SWEET CARESS. Just goes to show that fictional characters are real people too! We follow their journeys through a life that encompasses the whole sweep of a century and its turbulent histories. They are very much alive in our mind and realer than real thanks to the power and energy of Mr. B's master storytelling.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I have a friend, a transgender woman.
Let’s call her Miss Portugal.
She looks more womanly than me, acts more appropriate to our gender.
Every time we walk together, people would look at her first.
She was more attractive.
I would be thinking, “I wonder if they know she is not a real woman.”

Yes, yes, this poem will be about acts or thoughts of discrimination.
Those coming from me.

We were once invited to a small party, I got there first, and men asked about her.
I answered them matter-of-factly, of where she was and that she would join us shortly.
But I was waiting for the punch line.
As though not believing that they could be interested in meeting her, for real,
knowing that she also has . . . you know.
What they have.

She had a long-time boyfriend she met back in college.
They are not together anymore, but they were together for many years,
since they were freshmen ’til they already had jobs after graduation.
He was as straight as any of my male friends could be,
part of the gang,
with as many antics and tricks up his sleeve as your average kolehiYOLO.
But it was love at first sight for him.
At the common bathroom of their boys' dorm.
He was confused as to why a girl was there.
They became one of those distinguishable couples around campus.
He could be seen riding his bike around school while she sat at the backseat.
Their love story is one I like to tell when I am at a certain level of intoxication and with a certain kind of company.
I would tell it with so much flair, you’d think it was one out of a romantic Korean telenovela.
It was that hard for me to believe that I was a firsthand witness to a real-life gay love story.

I have another friend, a transgender man.
Let’s call him Buttercup.
He is a writer, a brilliant one.
When the friendship was still new, when I had just found out he wrote, after reading some of his works,
there was that familiar envy,
if not for the words he got to first,
then the dark but rich experiences I may never have.
I found myself consoling my half-inspired, half-humbled ego
with the fact that he had more suffering.
As though I knew that just by simply being so,
he was already at a disadvantage by default.

He used to be overweight.
I used to think the, well, heavy transgender men I see intentionally gained weight to lose their curves.
Then BC decided to go on a diet.
I was confused for a moment.
Then finally science came to rescue my logic back and reminded me about the heart stuff.
How dumb of me to have been more concerned of how people like him should appear that I could easily have overlooked my friend’s need to have a healthier lifestyle.
Then his no-rice diet worked.
He began to look better.
I think he felt even better.
There was the envy again.
But I was too lazy to follow his advice,
to follow suit,
so I, again, consoled myself with the thought that he was not considered a woman anyway.
Women become envious when other women lose weight only when they’re straight.
Even beautiful lesbians aren’t a real source of insecurities.
You could be dating the likes of Brandon Boyd, they’d not be able to care less.
Although it is possible the same cannot be said of your boyfriend regarding your two beautiful lesbian friends.

BC had a girlfriend, who was also a friend, still is.
There was a time when we shared a flat.
One time, my Christian preacher of a mother visited.
I introduced BC and his girlfriend as cousins.
I wasn’t ashamed of them.
I just wanted to spare myself from a barrage of questions my mother would have surely aimed at me had I told the truth.
Here I was, perhaps the most open-minded friend they have,
yet just to avoid an uncomfortable conversation,
I was able to easily shove their identities into hiding from the very people closest to me.
I did both sides a form of disrespect.

If I were to draw conclusions, I would begin with,
So shallow people give shallow judgments.
Therefore it would seem the depths I’ve tried to dive into through these years of “freethinking” instead only caused my own prejudice to sink deeper.
Only to become more difficult to recognize.
And here I was trying to “educate” this particular sort of people spewing off ignorant nonsense when I myself am still lacking,
although not in tolerance,
as most of us now are so quick to use as a defense that our treatment of the lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transexuals, transgenders, transvestites, queers, the questioning, the intersexual, the pansexual, the asexual is satisfactory,
but certainly in the acceptance that what they are are, what you are,
is as natural as what I am,
what we are.

LGBTTTQQIPAS

I've spent the last five years constructing a place to rest,
built to lay every piece of me.
It's rose wood, stained black and glossed.
I trimmed each edge with red,
and held it together with stainless steel, blood, sweat and tears.
Every condescending comment,
each lie told,
forgotten dreams,
and ambitions,
all structural foundation.
Blankets of black and blue hue placed inside,
were my mother's keepsakes to me.
Tar pit lungs and an old liver,
laid with so I could sleep.
Set me down,
and bury me with this coffin I built.

TALLAHASSEE CONTAINS ALLAH to whom I'm truly true blue
as He is the Just, the King, the Watchful, the Father of me & of you
Like 9 dogs eatin' tuna fish I cried for your thigh to comfort me like
the jack breadfruit that comforted Bounty Lieutenant William Bligh
whilst he abstained from Tahitian maidens who were cunningly shy
My big, beautiful mouth that frets & sasses makes me intellectually
superior to everyone except the most idiotic of ******* dumb *****
whose apple cider vinegar becomes unsulfured blackstrap molasses
Remember again old cross firemen, Jesus burned for your arson sin
2,000 years before I wrapped your fat *** around your chinless chin
through hellish dew of frosty equanimity with Gail Fisher as Peggy,
Mannix shaved his dangling loose hairy stems above gay legs leggy
so that he might wiggle folklorical jigs like Haitians do with reggae
Gay-***-whackin' Hillary Clinton humps *** to a disco-***-humpin'
beat from her *** crooked-pants-suited *** to her lezzy-***-toed feet
stuck in turds as Bill sodomizes a mule, **** Hillary can be bought
stuck in pig **** as Billy rapes another, shaky Hillary can be bought
with Kleenex 'cause her honker has 5 pounds of unsought nose snot
that added nothin' to the virulent ****** that I ain't not never caught
On clean teen carpet she munched, slurped & lapped sink drain-like
forcing me to slap her shitless so that she could be a real, sane ****
whose despicable antics I am not morally outraged by, nor annoyed
as this repugnant behavior is directed medically by faux cushingoid
which accounts for her likeness to the puffy-faced star Alison Lloyd
who had something criminally criminal to do when she wasn't doin'
something grimy to fill her cravenously-craven-criminalistical void
that toys with emotions that are not immune to being toyed with on
the weekends that were made for Michelob on my blue hemorrhoid
that toys with emotions that aren't afraid of being toyed with on gay
weekends that were made for Michelob dumped on my hemorrhoid
only 'cause it is something to do when you are not doing something
that could have ended early the cowboyin'-guy-life of William Boyd
whose hoppin,' in the hoppin'-along biz, derived from a secosteroid
Vegetable-hating vegans love pagans & meat-eaters secrete beavers
& Yukio & Yoko Mishima beat to death with a bat old Tom Seavers
after he frittered away his ball-batting career as a raunchy, gay dude
to the tune of 4 original Beatles crooning the god-awful "Hey Jude"
while fat priests ****** nuns & nudists in nudist colonies pray ****
for chapel cameras of the ******* Channel's dude ranch, Play Dude
where the rudest nudists & naturalists, nudely & naturally stay rude
without caring to distinguish betwixt fake night & serious day food
that could throw a self-effacing exhibitionist into a filthy, gay mood
with prelude payload which equates to slaves getting their pay sued
by orthognathical charlatans who worship devil-lovin' Ben Franklin
in his guise as Frenchy Chucky de Gaulle who could send tank men
for forensical strikes targetin' ****** on rivers whereat men bank sin
with a plugged-up ******* called Peter Hamilton, feet or Nam again
in quokka flesh minus 22% over a pig sty or a bacon-oiled ham pen
Even though He maintained amazing Bible-understanding abilities,
Pittsburgh's wall-to-wall ******* gave Jesus the Hill District jiggers
Despite His God given Holy Christian Bible-understandin' abilities,
Pittsburgh's loo-to-loo ******* gave Jesus shaky, Hill District jitters
that ache way too late & shake for a sexily-religious girl who titters
over dead Zhanna Friske's Russian lickspittles & ******* pig-sitters
gettin' one passed normal lesbians with tattoos of sickly zoo critters
that clearly show pederasts of The New York Times ******* shitless
after chalking Marxistical New York Times sources ******* shitless
in Bethlehem stables stabling new stud muffin horses shoed witless
where hippy people with greasy long hair were quite apt to be livin'
clawing about what's issue based vs. character drivel, I mean driven
Ol' Walker McDonald was my very special friend until he ***** me
under a nice fig tree beyond the bitchiest beach of the Sargasso Sea
where he wouldn't quit ****** me despite my sexiest desperate plea
I hollered a lot in a ******-nutty masculine voice but he did not care
about rotten figs that matted my Ellen-degenerated, lezzy-short hair
I told everyone in North Vietnam & Laos that he couldn't he trusted
'cause the 21,798 times he ***** me made me thoroughly disgusted
like there were gigantical nests of bugs up my *** heavily encrusted
in cracks where ****-crop-dusting planes can't dive swoop in dusted
before flying into my inner-sanctum room like old Corrie ten Boom
whose bee-busy life, after her crapping-out death, has yet to resume
in order to beat senseless neo-brutalistical V.A. nursing home abuse
that kills the blood-coagulatin' screams of a cursing gnome papoose
draped across the *** of a ***-rail engineer takin' it up the caboose
to make his gay meaning known to stragglers too lucid to be obtuse
Don't ****** me I'm your amigo, oh yeah I forgot in your final spin
that a plucky slice'd paralyze you forever good on any hot spinal fin
****** ****** at ****** mall: Who's the baddest ****** of them all?
Is it Ringo, or dead George/John, or false/fake ******, Beatle Faul?
I cannot wear no slutty dress because I got a sass-*** dose of P.M.S.
I can't ***** in my slutty dress while I got a bad-*** dose of P.M.S.
My boyfriend's a ***** queer who has been ripped up his ***'s rear
In city pig files they record my criminal-*****-bone record in miles
Here amongst the thoroughly hypnotized, I spank your lard **** red
while you flee with free fleas that fly with flies that are too-well fed
while you flee with 3 free fleas that fly with flies that are overly fed
The traveling mermaid porked & beaned me in the moldy sea green
as P.B.S.'s Fred Rogers fits into a death list of ***, dead codgers we
ruefully mourn the murders of Jack the Ripper's ******-red lodgers
who overtly related homosexually to lesbian heterosex bed-dodgers
on mountain picnics in Pennsylvania where they are fed odd chores
There ain't nothing grim in threading tawny-titted Hawaiian women
before drug-induced comas or with food cramps got from swimmin' Demon Hillary, I Would ****** Everybody Just to Make You Smile
Is this wrong? No, murdering everybody is Scratch's most beautiful
way to say: "I loathe you Bill" in his hottest court of Luciferian trial
A raunchy **** bussed my *** with cerebral palsy quicker than Ajax
scrubbed the crapped-out Admiral William Halsey. I'd mount 1 trull
plain or crunchy too but not when she humps like a Harlem *******
We told everybody deaf 'bout "us" but everybody but "us" was deaf
to our mutant deafness save Harland Sanders & Burger Chef & Jeff
Swallow this sea-warped poker chip to see what can happen while I
moodily tap out Florida flame red maple trees to drain all the sap in
Anita O'Day never curled the nether tufts of Melvin Howard Tormé
because she was a limpless gimp who saw sike-a-***** as girly gay
in the throes of scissor lovin' between Blobert Rake & Huddy Bolly
whose fine, rug-burned legs queered their sapphical, sexoholic folly
that in 1966 farted greasy Earth's real cheeses to slickly **** breezes
as 99 rescue inhalers asphyxiated fatalistically-asthmatical wheezes
I love the ocean. Do you feel the aloof sea spray on your face? That
ain't sea spray. That's a gay *** peeing down on you from the roof.
I like my ******* on caffeine-free diets as they're better controlled I
think, than apes on caffeine-big diets who **** ******* cherry pink
for sea-lovers in iron linkage to twist apart a chewed-on master link
soaked in a tub 93% bigger than a beef washer's blood-washed sink
Let us forgive my unkind words but the dog turds I tracked in aren't
my dog's turds 'cause your ***'s really pretty like that of an angel's
dead cousin, so you must not cream on creamy donuts by the dozen
I will not talk of you in the old past as long as you are able to ****
really fast. The way to hell is lousy with sinners as each part of you
could provide several dinners. Our cherries are nicer than the sweet
cherries in pies. I wish that our 4 eye sockets had 4 cherry-red eyes.
You're so tiny that you stand 'neath my knee at a distance so nice to
bruise my better kidney. Shut up a lot, I told you before. I ain't got a
mistress who did not chronically snore. I could slather your body in
peanut butter from scalp to *** belly like would that jack-*** Kojak
Savalas brother called Telly. How many times have I warned you to
shut up? 3,345 trillion 9 hundred thousand 128? Enough is enough!
I scratched your back while you were reverently praying, just like a
Catholical priest, which is the chief role I'm now piously portraying
Part of me wants to **** you the other doesn't when I was me & you
were so wasn't, when your ****** were floral with dandelions, ever
more gay than those that were Paul Ryan's. After January we'll ****
bleached whales on the beach while I castigate old adulteresses in a
sermon I preach beneath the flickering grand dragon wizard's torch.
God has blessed us with elbows & knees & sharp teeth, only to bite
whoever's sporting deliciously-moist quims that we strive to please
Kicking the **** out of constipation is my preferred realization with prunes, olive oil & herbs from rich soil, for once I'm well you'll see
healthful regularity overtaking me. I'll make your cheery cherry pop
by threading your pretty Barbie bobbin so fast that I can hardly stop
from attaching psychedelical fixations to conundrums psycholytical
No one asleep had ever downed a pickle 'cause the racer who hit 45
wet spots was the women-pleasing racer large Richard **** Trickle
No one awake had ever drowned a pickle because the racer who hit
damp spots was the ****-racing racer, big-stick Richard **** Trickle
No one awake had ever got ******-cell sickle with the racer who hit
87 damp spots, the ***-****-racing racer, ***** Richard **** Trickle
who found that **** babes with keen intellects were tricky to tickle
as ****'ll be doin' Marianne Faithfull with big-ribbed-****** ******
in his British Marxian way with obligatory sledge hammer & sickle
to spread her ******* for shire horse hung Beatle Jimmy Nicol
as Albert Hofmann's 102-year-old L.S.D. schlort is a thrill pickle in
a Swiss lab bobbing dead in *****, unable to pork, **** & ***** all
while Bert Hofmann's 102-year-ol' L.S.D. ******* is a dill pickle in
a Swiss lab bobbin' in *****, unable to poke, sock, cram & stick all
because of contact with a toxical/allergical rose bushy thorn prickle
Some of me's puerile, the other section's a rash, over my nasty belly
is mama, below is a wacky, pinkish ******, while I pile onward real
love from 11 p.m. till the pole star's there, 8 degrees from starboard
several acres from where the **** wipes for my liquor bar are stored
You're brave & you're wise, with my camera I'll capture your thighs
I long for blonde hair of which you've plenty. I want to kiss all of it
before you turn 20. Our Russian passion will pass a fever pitch like
convicts on a chain gang diggin' a ditch. You whistle alluringly like
Lauren Bacall. I wonder, can you do it pulling from Bogart's straw?
Let's eat cookies while we sleep in my million-dollar Blue Bird bus
because I have expensive chocolate chip cookies just for the 2 of us
Tell me the truth, I am dyin' to know. Will you be able to stop when
we go go go? It's very important that you're careful so you don't get
knocked up by a drunken sailor or a window washer or a blind man
with a tin cup. Your pocked *** is really low slung like a green pine
ladder's 1st broken rung. I bang you in the murky morning too early
for lunch 'cause you ain't ½ as **** as Alice from The Brady Bunch
whose meat-hacking with butcher Sam included a knock-out punch
Turn up the gas, I want no damp cell, no moist damsel in **** hell
whose ill virginity is wiped clean by my hellishly-wild *** machine
I love you tall, I love you short in a barrel, beneath a port. You are a
broad. I know it's true. Live up to the crooked contract or I will sue.
Richard F. Burton, extinguish *** Taylor's fiery *** that lit abruptly
in the Golfo de México from B.P.'s unmothered-crack-head-****-gas
I took harmful advice to seize a 1-upped leg man ****-deep in knees

Incubus Drive
is when me and the neighbours fall out
it's not just the volume
furniture moving bass
but I have to sing
full shout
I know all the words
you see
cos I played it
so many ******* times
it's ingrained on my beer brain
all my inhibitions
blown out
I'm on stage
in front of the microphone
air guitar
I'm no Brandon Boyd
but by Christ I'm on fire tonight

My first promise to you is this
I promise I never cared
The reason I stayed was to cure my own
Sadness, that's why I stared
Not out of love or longing
But momentary relief from this suffocating loneliness

My second promise to you,
You were a good placeholder
Someone to bear through my pale conversations
Someone who offered me their body
Which I gladly accepted
The way you taste was a wonderful distraction
From all the things I experience in my head

My third promise, then
I promise you are replaceable
Your contribution to me, was all I needed
And you are nothing more than
A temporary,
that I valued as I value thing day to day items
Good while I need them
Useless when I don't

My fourth promise
You could have been anyone
I loved you, but anyone could have been you
People are like gas, and any gas would have filled
The void within me
You filled me up, took up all my space and time
But I only needed you for a little while

My fifth and final promise,
And I really mean this one
Everything I have just written is a lie
You are everything I have wanted
You are everything I will want
And I'm broken by my own inability to have kept you
So I tell myself I am numb to you
But the truth is
You make me melt
And I don't want to be frozen anymore



last two lines from Incubus song "Have You Ever" written by Brandon Boyd

The wall must come down.
I am going to town to free James Brown,
But I will be back and that's a fact.

Mark did you fight at Jericho?
I was there. I was the wall
I swear. With the fingers
For you to look through.
What did you do? Did you spy?
With yon eye? What did you see?
Did she hold me tight?
All through the night?

My mind was elsewhere,
My mind was broken. Am I the token?
And you Mr. Boyd, tell Mr. Floyd
And those **** kids
To leave me alone. Throw me a bone.
The wall must come down.

dabnagit  Travel back to before the nation began
and see Crispus Attucks killed — the
first American to die for American freedom, a freedom denied to his African and Native American forebears. Take a knee to honor his sacrifice and the other four dead.

Take a knee in grief that he who would become president minimized these first martyrs as "a motley rabble of saucy boys, negros and molattoes, Irish teagues and outlandish Jack Tarrs.”

Stand at Morris Island, South Carolina, where American soldiers fought to keep a young nation whole, a field of blue with 35 stars, not 22. Take a knee for the 54th Massachusetts Voluntary Infantry and its score killed at Fort Wagner, a hundred more presumed dead.

Take a knee in grief that the U.S. Army rescinded its promise of equality and paid the 54th little more than half a white soldier's monthly pay. Take a knee in awe at those who refused any pay that was less, yet died with "Massachusetts and Seven Dollars a Month!" on their lips, defending their white comrsdes' retreat.

Take a knee for Sgt. Medgar Evers, who defeated fascists at Normandy only to be killed by them once he was back home.

Take a knee from the suckerpunch by a U.S. senator from Mississippi in 1917, who said the return of black veterans would “inevitably lead to disaster.” Once you “impress the ***** with the fact that he is defending the flag” and “inflate his untutored soul with military airs,” it would be easy for him to conclude “his political rights must be respected.” Take a knee to honor those who died defending freedom. Take a knee to weep for the sharp rise in lynchings after both world wars — following the return of those impressed, untutored ***** souls inflated with military airs for having served.

Look at the lists, look at the videos, look at the witness testimony, look at the double standard: Amadou Diallo. Manuel Loggins Jr. Ronald Madison. Kendra James. Sean Bell. Eric Garner. Michael Brown. Alton Sterling. Philando Castile. (Take a knee; this could take awhile.) Akiel Denkins. Gregory Gunn. Samuel DuBose. Brendon Glenn. Freddie Gray. Natasha McKenna. Walter Scott. Christian Taylor. Ezell Ford. Akai Gurley. Laquan McDonald. (Take a breath.) Tamir Rice. Yvette Smith. Jamar Clark. Rekia Boyd. Shereese Francis. Ramarley Graham. LaTanya Haggerty. Margaret LaVerne Mitchell. And on and on. And on.

Take a knee for the unarmed, or subdued, or even fleeing men and women killed by officers pledged to protect and serve. Take a knee too for the officers killed by gun-toting gangsters…or by homeowners fearing a home invasion. While you're at it, take a knee for the more than 50 people killed every year by toddlers exercising their Second Amendment rights.

And take a knee for the soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines who died so that a football player can take a knee as long as some people are shot by police in the back, or even when down, or even after they're on their knees…while others for some reason are far less likely to be shot in the same circumstances. Take a knee, Rodin-like, and ponder why.

Take a knee and join those who are taking a knee out of respect not only for the flag, but for the republic for which it stands, one nation…

(Striving to be a more perfect union)

…under God…

(Who "created all men equal"; "male and female he created them.")

…indivisible…

("Build that wall!" "Lock her up!" "Fire the sons of ******* if they won't stand for this flag but run them over if they protest a rebel flag!")

…with liberty and justice for all lives can't matter unless black lives matter.

So for these all, and many more, take a knee. Take your time, but take some heart. Then lift each other up and lock your arms. Play ball.

Strange phosphorescence of old,
a tear precipitates your dress
and burns ******.

Remote, pristine.
Oh woman, you don’t exist on the branches of the sun!
Defenseless dances, almost pagan,
you burst turmoil in my brains
to drive me through your wild exile.

Asyllable that rules things maternal
on my definite, soft shoulder,
will liberate forever
a distant loss.

Bestow my pupil upon the secret
like fragile columns behind the valley,
it palpitates as it rises;
different such a scarce manner.

Shuddering from sugar and salt
the perishable breaks before me:
far-off minutes, light flesh.

Facing the instant, immutable land,
you determine your wandering as you go
over the light with no memory of the mother manger.

Translated by Martin Boyd

I would like to do a great many things:
play guitar like Isaac
find my voice to be comparable to Boyd's
write admiring Bukowski, though never plummeting as low
love the woman who has never been loved correctly
express myself in my own way on bass
and make myself out of the parts that I choose.

and if for some reason another person enjoys these things, that's just something else to be proud of.

by Dawn Richardson and Tiffany Ann Boyd

Assembled from works by J.M. Romig, Sheena Zilla, and Ryan P. Kinney

My first memory is of dying.
I felt like I’d lived a full life
And now I was gladly fading away.
My first last words were
“Tell Elizabeth I love her”
I don’t remember knowing Elizabeth.
I love her though, or at least I did in that moment.

“These aren’t sad tears I’m crying, I’m just cutting onions my dear.”
It makes me want to rip off my flesh and run down the street as bare muscle and bone screaming ****** ******.
It will get better once I leave this purgatory waiting room of stress and self-loathing, but until then my outlook is a bit glum.

I am terrified
Before me is a discolored, screaming, clawing, misshapen alien creature
My son takes his first breathes of real air
We are all exhausted
His mother looks at me with a look that practically screams,
“We did it.”
I plead, “But we’re not done doing it yet…
Are we?”
His gurgles turn into cries
And I know…

For some reason, couldn’t tell you why, I thought about Frankenstein’s Monster.

Some parts are really fuzzy,
I hold it close to me- the fuzzy parts against my skin.
It’s a quilt blanket, stitched together of pieces and parts of found cloth.
My father made it for me.
My very last birthday gift.
I cocoon myself in it like a womb.

I hated him for what he’d done, but I hated myself more for missing him.
I have to fight everyday to be a better person in spite of what I was exposed to.

Created at the Winter Writing Workshop (Dec. 27, 2015),
HEYMAN! Productions

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve told me
my family of seven
numbers only five.

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve told me,
“they’re NOT YOUR BROTHERS.
lydia is your sister, but they’re BLACK.
they can’t be part of your family,”
though all three are adopted.

i couldn’t tell you the number of times they’ve looked
at my family as if it is BROKEN,
believing there’s NO WAY
those two little boys with DARK skin
belong in that family with WHITE skin, brown hair, and blue eyes,
the perfect depiction of a german family.

this is my REALITY.

it TERRIFIES me,

watching them look

watching them
see
   nothing
               but
                      the
                           skin
                                 that
                                       is
                                          darker
                                                    than
                                                           their
                                                                   own.

no one ever questions that my little sister
with her FAIR skin is my sister,
but when they see my brothers,
they don’t understand how we’re related.

in what world do we live
that this PREJUDICE is allowed?
in what world do we live
that JUDGING people simply by their color is acceptable?

they say that it isn’t,
that they don’t do it,
that they know black people—are even friends with a few—
so there’s no way that they’re RACIST.

and
    yet,
          it
      happens
                             every
                                         day.

we see it on the news all too frequently
but brush it off as insignificant,
somebody else’s problem.

PHILANDO CASTILE.
TARIKA WILSON.
LAQUAN MCDONALD.
REKIA BOYD.
OSCAR GRANT.
AIYANA JONES.   
ORLANDO BARLOW.
SEAN BELL.
MICHAEL BROWN.
YVETTE SMITH.
BOTHAM JEAN.
ERIC GARNER.
TAMIR RICE.
GEORGE FLOYD.

maybe you recognize these names.
these names are only a fraction of UNARMED african americans—
men, women, even children—
KILLED because police FEARED
the COLOR of their skin.

how can we allow this to happen?

they excuse racism, claiming it ceased long ago,
saying that because there are laws against segregation,
that because those laws were enacted,
people automatically follow them.  

then
      WHY
                 do
                     you
                            know
                               ­       these
                                               names?


i hope to one day live in a world
where I don’t have to fear for my brothers’ lives as they grow older.
a world where I know
they won’t have to fight RACISM and PREJUDICES while following their dreams.

i hope to one day live in a world
where we see more than just the color of someone’s skin.
a world where we can learn to ACCEPT and LOVE,
appreciating diversity.

i hope to one day live in a world
where my family is seen as just that,
a FAMILY. a WHOLE, LOVING FAMILY
regardless of the color of my brothers’ skin.

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byod
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boyd
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