(I)

Whose coat is this? Sure as hell isn't my coat. I ain't got no coat with this parka ****, it's *******. I ain't no furry flamin' ******. I ain't no ****** chochy Molly-May-Ze-**** chokin' down chickens and nasalin' a'sniffin' snortin' nasty-*** choch; that ain't me. That ain't me. Look at this coat– I'm like an Eskimo *****. I'm like a butch-**** bull-**** crotch-lappin' a'swimmin' laps in that guy's swimmin' pool. Who's that guy? Who owns that guy? 'Ey, anyone here the owner of this guy– guy ain't got no owner? Whose coat is this? It's nice, real nice. Bet she said, "Does it come from France? Where do I buy one?" I want to buy one, I think I need to buy **** more. I sure as hell need to buy one of these. "And I need one these too and one of them too and I need a petticoat and a tipper-tapper and a whimpratic garfielder and one of them new bartlemores, I need more of them bartlemores. I need more, more, more, more, more, more..." That ain't enough. ****'s from France. ****'s from Paris, that's romantic. You think I'm romantic? I eat hearts for dinner, I chew down nails like nuts for my midnight snack. I smoke cigarettes and spit on concrete slabs, you think that's ****? I'll show you ****. I'll show you Paris, New York City, Rome, romance you in Rome. I'll get real ******' Roman. I'll take you to the desert and make love to you. That's how a free man does a woman, and I'm a real free man. Who's ownin' this guy? It ain't you, it ain't me. I don't own you, you don't own me. I'm a free man:

I said,
"Fire and wood, fire and wood, fire and wood. It is late, it is late, it is far, far too late."

I set
fire to wood, fire to wood; feel that fire fired fresh from that firewood.

I dug the pit,
he gathered the wood,
she started the fire.

She really does make that fire start.

O' how she makes that fire burn,
O' how the wood's wrapped in white hots,
O' how they smoke their smokestacked pipes,
O' tobacco teeming teenagers, tormented by and through youth,
O' adolescence, trending topics, and forget-me-not flowers,
O' old age, Floridan coffins, and coughing  cancers,
O' writers in the mountains writing to be,
O' painters and **** bodies in studies by the sea,
O' thinkers in their mindset, mindsetting the table for dinner,
O' tables set to bursting,
O' wallets so thick,
O' community,
O' society, our social games,
O' hope,
O' peace,
O' that I may be at peace,
O' that I may be content and pray only for peace,
O' how about them true believers,
O' how about that love at first sight,
O' sandstone. My sandstone. That guy sittin' on sandstone.

That's my guy. That's my guy. I own this ****.

Is a man breathing on a mirror the sum of his breaths?
Breaths foggin' a'mistin' my view,
my view of a body and that face,
you're a body.
You're a workin' day's bell,
you're my chill in an Icelandic draft,
you're my spare in a Middle Eastern draft,
you're my pawn in chest-to-chest chess.

You've got this. You've got this. You own this ****.

And it is ****, too. I'd be set, real ******' set, with someone like you. I'll make you a woman, check this parka ****. Coat's mine. I'm a classy igloo runner, runnin' a'ragin' a'czebelskiin' meriteratin', I'll be reiteratin' your points. Check the time, it's late! It's late! ***** was in the grassy knoll turnin' trap tunes on her turntable. Would you listen to that? She sounds late to me, does she sound late to you? I like the music; I like the music. What happened to Woodstock? Where's my watergate, Nixon? Where's my generation, Ginsberg? Where's the meaning? This music's too loud! We're so profound! O' profundity!

Tell me something I didn't know, I'm craving' the new.
Give me the new while I spit on the old,
while I spit on this fine art finely art'd by and for fine artists–
******' fine artists. ******* fine artists.

(You can realize radical-realist realism but you can't be real with me?)

O' fine art!
What fine art!
Which fine artists are dead?



(II)

Looks like they're dead.

Looks like them ******* choked out all them ghettos, choked out all them rednecks, chokin' a'stranglin' by-God-oh-God straddlin' the breeders. I sure did like them babes– babes with their laughin' a'lackin' o' cynicism. They don't know the word "****."

I sure am forgetful–
I forgot that smoke doesn't dissipate,
I forgot how to smell autumn leaves,
I forgot to check the heart against the fingertips,
I forgot why my fingertips went numb,
I forgot to cue in the meaning when the sentence was complete,
I forget to complete my sentences,
I forget who you were wanting when you said, "I want you."

I got as much depth as an in-depth discussion, high hats and electropercussion have got me going. I'm goin' downtown, uptown bourgeois tricked me out, johns and yellow Hummers laid me down and cussed me out. That's not a discussion. That's not my scent scenting my towel, this breath reeks of wintry air– my fingertips went numb.

"I want you."

"Oh would you look at that moon?
Take a look at that moon.
Look at that moon with the ******' mountains.
I love that moon.
That's my moon."

I love darin' a'dusty dareelin' derailin' your dreams, whose dreams are these? They ain't my dreams– ain't no dream derailin' a'nileerad radiatiatin' some hint of joy or Jamison Scotch Liqueur. Drink that ****. That's my ****, I own that ****.
I'm sittin' on this stoop like I own this ****, like this **** owns me; I owed me. I don't own me, you owe me:

Pay up man, feet off the stoop.
Pay up man, be real with me.
Pay up man, you ever thought of a man as a man?
Pay up man, give it in.
Pay up man, give in.
Pay up man, I need you to do me a solid. Do me solid from crown-to-toe, we're toe-to-toe let's do-si-do bro-to-** I'm ready go, **, jo, ko, lo, get low… Now I'm ramblin'. You say, "Ramble in to the stoop and tell me a story."

What's a stoop– who's a stoop? That **** ain't stoop– you ain't stoop. You're stupid. You're a joke, check out the joke. Hey ladies, you seen this joke– joke ain't been seen by them ladies? I'm a joke. We ain't laughin' with you, they're laughin' at you.

O' hilarity!
Such hilarity!
What hilarious histories have passed?



(III)*

"I said I loved him once. I only loved him once."
(And how long once has been...)

I sure did like them hand-holdins,
them star-gazin' moments,
them moon phasin' nighttime nuances,
them fingertip feelin' a'findin',
them sessions o'meshin' limber legs unto steadfast *****,
heads cocked like guns toward the sky,
beyond the horizon
but well
below the belt.

Them star-gazing moments seeing stars seemin' small, I love how they gleam- gleamin' a'glarin' comparin' shine to shine, shimmerin' a glimmer shone stumblin' her way home from the bar. She's drunk. She's brilliant, brilliance of whit and wantin' a'wanderlustin' gypsy nomads- that ***** gyp'd me, no mad man would take a cerebral slam to the face lest them moving pictures are involved. Read a ******' book, it'll last longer. Kiss me on the collar bones, clavicles shone shining with slick saliva pining for my affections. You're clammerin' to feel me, clammin' up (Just feel me.) I want to run my hands through long hair and peg the nausea nervosa to the wall. The writing's on the wall:

The sun bent over so the moon could rise, chanting,
"Goodbye and good riddance,
I never wanted to shine down
on them seas o' tranquilities anyhow."*

O' what a day. What a day.

And the wind ruffles leaves and it ruffles feathers on birds eating worms in brown soil.

What a day. What a day.

And the men under the bridge gather in traitorous conversation of governments overthrown and border dissolution and poetry with meters bent out of tune.

What a day. What a day.

And the billboards are dry for all the consumers to consume, use, and review.

What a day. What a day.

And hearts break messiest when you're not looking.

What a day. What a day.

And the ego and the id and the redwood trees are talking. They're sitting **** in the marshes, bathing in the bogwater while fondling foreign fine wines and whisperin' a'veerin' conversations towards topics kept well out of hand, out of the game, nontobe racin' in races, rampant radical racists betting bets on bent, bald Bolshevik racists wagging Marxist manifestos in the bourgeois' faces, yes. Make it be. Nontobe sanity as the captain creases his pleats, pleasin' her creases and the dewdrops of sweat trailing down the small of her back– down the ridge of her spine forming solitary springs of saline saltwater in the small of her back. Aye-aye, guy's pleasin' a'makin' choices a'steerin'– government's a'veerin' a hard left into the ice.

'Berg! 'Berg!
Danger in the icy 'berg!
None too soon a 'berg!
Bound to bump a 'berg!
O' inevitably unnerving 'berg!
Authoritative 'berg!
Totalitarian 'berg!
Surveillance of *** and the sexes 'berg!
O' fatalist fetishist 'berg!
Benevolent big brother 'berg!
Homosocial socialization 'berg!
Romanticized Roman 'berg!
O' virginal mother 'berg!
City on a hill on a 'berg!
Subtly socialist 'berg!
Nongovernmental 'berg!
O' illustrious libertine 'berg!
Freedom of the people 'berg!
Water privatization 'berg!
Alcohol idolization 'berg!
O' corrupt and courageous 'berg!
Church and a stately 'berg!
Pray to your ceiling fan 'berg!
Biblically borne 'berg!
O' godly and gorgeous 'berg!
Ferocious freedom fighters launching lackluster demonstrations far too post-demonstration feeling liberty and love, la vie en rouge, revolving revolutionist ranting on revolution tangible as
an ice cold 'berg.

'Berg! 'Berg!
O' the 'berg, the ****** iceberg–
You'll be the death of me.

It was on a night like this, not long ago.
The air stood still and the moon hung low.

A loathsome lad on the bow of a whaler.
Not much of a farmer but a pretty good sailor.

Made a wish on the breast of Blue he killed.
"Your mightiest dead, his blood I've spilled!"

Most gods didn't listen save one who did care.
Poseidon held steadfast, his attention was snared.

"Poseidon pay forth my wish which I've earned!
My fortunes everlasting and enemies burned!"

Poseidon appeared though not as you think him.
He appeared as fresh water so the sailor would drink him.

"My favor you seek?" The lads stomach it snarled.
"You killed one of my daughters your heart I will gnarl!"

"Oh dear god who hath forsaken my favor.
Spare me your wrath, my heart don't savor."

The young sailor pleaded his tables now turned.
The house of his dreams Poseidon has burned.

"Quiet you fool your tears do not pang me.
One day I favor you will marry a banshee.

She'll be quite striking, clever, and loyal.
For her hand and her heart you mustn't recoil.

You'll live quite well your fortunes more fair.
You'll suffer no fools, you will not despair.

One night though I'll come back to collect.
I spared your life tis quite a large debt."

Our whaling friend abided then his muscles began to quake.
Poseidon made him ***** so an exit he could make.

They parted ways and many years of travels came to be.
Our whaling lad he had searched those perilous seven seas.

Soon he met and fell in love with a girl from the forests edge.
He proposed to her in sight of Poseidon on high upon a ledge.

A few years passed and soon she bore this man a son.
He couldn't believe his very eyes what favors had he won.

Then one night Poseidon came and rapped his trident on the door.
"A debt must be paid with your own son. I mustn't wait anymore!"

The lad he knew better than to argue with Poseidon.
He took his son from his wife's arms knowing better to abide him.

Poseidon took his son and cast him to the stars.
A reminder far more lasting than any mortal scars.

The young mans wife done cast herself into the firey hearth.
Having done cursed her love and self, for ever giving birth.

The sailor said "What penance, if any, was there ever to be made?"
Poseidon turned away from him for the debt the man had paid.

"Does your pain right now not make you favor death?
Do you not savor in the thought of smelling Cerebrus' breath?

Can you fashion upon your eyes a single saving grace?
How about your soul for one more look upon her face?"

The whaling man said nothing putting pistol to his temple.
The plan it seems all along had been well, rather simple.

A discharged flash and his eyes opened wide.
Prone in his bed his lovely wife there by his side.

His son began to bellow from the crib by the hearth.
Everything was as it was, his love and the birth.

A new moon shone out upon the quiet sea.
Poseidon beckoned the old man to venture out to he.

"Poseidon I don't know what I could do to honor you my god.
Your feats are grand and generous your efforts I applaud."

"Save face my friend for you have learned your lesson well.
And that's to say this **** right here is by Jamison ****** Bell!"

He was lean,
a hungry coyote,
tattoo'd, cynical,
probably coming down
from smoking a bowl.

"I dig your tattoos."

"Thanks man. I got a few,
I'd like a few more,
but that **** costs a lot of money."

His hair was shaggy,
reaching for his shoulders,
he hadn't shaved in a couple
weeks.

"What does that Asian script
on the back of your neck mean?"

"Oh,
it means Black.
Ya know?
Like my last name.
It's like a ******' football jersey.
Just in case I forget my name."

We walked down
darkened corridors,
he made me nervous.
Not like I'm going to
**** my britches nervous,
but that this guy is older,
wiser, not afraid to say
whatever the hell he wants,
and probably doesn't want
to waste his time, kinda way.

"Nah, dude.
Burch threw me a bone on this one.
I picked up most of my writing from
taking a course on Creative Writing
with Professor Jamison.
The dude was ******* legit.
He went to Yale or some ****.
Two Ivy Leagues anyway.
You would'uh loved him.
He made bank too.
90 grand,
more than anybody else I
know on this campus."

He talked satire,
he talked poetry,
he seemed ready to devour
any unsightly barrier in his way.

"It was nice to meetcha'"

"Hell yeah, you take care of yourself."

Why do I have a feeling that Mr. Black is going to drastically
alter
my life?

last night at the poetry slam i felt like my youth was coming back to me

you see one young bloke went up to me and said don’t forget to cheer

on my mate, it’s his first time, and he keeps his poems to his heart

and i don’t think i am an old timer, because of my love of social media

you see i like the poetry slam because it helps an middle-aged dude like me

to find my mojo, and there are a lot of people who ain’t game enough to read

their stuff because of the heckling, but this young bloke last night really stole the show

i wasn’t clapping to be nice, i think he had a lot of talent and here is a song

you see it’s a great trip to the poetry slam, on his first night ever

you see he stole the night away, and might i add he won oh yeah

you see he had a whole lot of fun

and also dude, he blew everybody off their seat

you see i like poetry slams, because they are so much fun

you see it’s hard for a poor guy like me, to get anywhere on the buses yeah

you see the canberra bus service, dude, is so stupid yeah

the canberra government only care about the rich

they don’t give a **** about the poor

the poetry slam is a way i can really show everyone what i have

i don’t want to be one of those oldies who is too shy to go out

i don’t want to be one of those oldies who worries about family members

i don’t want to be treated like a bad smell, just because of my cracked feet

i don’t want to be treated like a shy person all my life

i am into computers in a big way, so deal with it, big fat rich ****** of this world

i don’t want to be shy at the mall, i like the mall, but not to sit there all day and night

i have a life to lead, i want to be famous, well, people, i am already famous on youtube

and Facebook, even if people film me on the street, when i am dancing, that doesn’t bother me

if you want to film me just to laugh at me, go right ahead, as long as that is all you do

i probably am on Facebook in a famous way, because i have been attracting attention to other people

in the last 8 years, i don’t want people to treat me like an old fogie because i really really extremely love life

i clean my house, and i know how to look after myself, i prefer to catch buses as opposed to getting lifts with strangers

don’t forget i am a person, i don’t care if you wanna tease, but i hate horrible teasing, for i am a real family person

you see mate, last night i really enjoyed myself, and if you want to catch me on bad slam search badslamnobiscuit on yioutube or Facebook

and watch the whole 2 hour show, because i did my own tribute to the great graham kennedy

you see i don’t want to be treated like a hooligan, i liked that man in the july poetry slam at the phoenix

you see he really lifted my spirits high and i liked the young dudes last night, yeah he was rad

when i got home, i watched june’s poetry slam on youtube, and dude, i sounded great

because i don’t believe in horrible teasers treating me like an old fogie, trying to get me to look worried

i don’t **** people off, but i am aware of my age, but i go to poetry slams to have fun

i go on youtuibe to have fun, i write stories to have fun, FUN, i tell you, i go to the christmas carols to have fun

i don’t want voices trying to get me to **** myself, i love my life for that

i know when i was young, i was a tad different to the other kids, but i wasn’t shy, i played basketball i played bowling

i went down the waterside at jamison and i wasn’t scared and i went to the movies

i went to the raiders every weekend, and mate i was a real teaser, and i know i am getting older, but i am ready

to make the poetry slam really work for me, you see i remember when paul berenyi asked me to look at these dogs

and he stuck a drawing pin on my ***, i felt, what fucken give dude, and i wrestled with micheal wright on the green grass

i know i am old now, and i can’t expect young udders to like me, like they used to, but i had a great conversation with

this man named rodney about things that make the poetry slam great

you see my voices are in the past, i ain’t living in the past, i really like my life at the moment

i don’t care if i look like my dad when i am on my computer, but i love computers, i always loved computers

i am constantly told in my head, my poems ****, but i can’t expect everyone to like them, but they should keep their opinions to themselves

because nothing anyone will say to me, will jeopardise my performances at the poetry slam, because it’s so much fun

i must admit, i get inspired my kids on youtube and television

i know i was a koomarri to muck around with, and i still believe in mucking around with my old school friends

i just don’t like these odd movements i get from my medication, i want to lift all my bad fiucked up thoughts up

but that is all, no more, i believe in having a lot of fun, reading writing and watching youtube

i only went to the mall all the time when i was living in mum and dads backyard, to show my independence

and now, i don’t need to be there 24 hours a day, be cause i have my own flat now, i am independent

i really hate when people are trying take my cool credits away just because i ain’t doing what they say

you see i am planning to go on a holiday on the first weekend of october to bate mans bay

and i am off to the carols in the domain on the 19th december

and i might not have very much money, but i can still plan holidays, i want to go Perth one day

i hate when the ghost of my father is trying to make me clean my house the way i used to

cause ya know what used to did, he just used to, my house is clean, occasionally i like to fall asleep on the couch

and do my tapestry, you see dad is being a dad, as he is trying to make me remember my past

i ain’t living or dwelling in the past, i believe in being nice to the youth of today

because they are the future, and i wish online stalkers will leave the young dudes alone

because social media is fun for people of all ages

you see, i want to show the world, how much i support the youth of today

the intellectually disabled and the mentally ill, of today

because my voices are judging me because of my past, and i hate that

saying, don’t muck with brian, because he kidnapped a kid

the truth is i never kidnapped a kid, i just was a crazy person back then, and i don’t want to dwell in that, alright

and i want to enjoy doing badslamnobiscuit, despite my voices saying i am not young

i don’t want people treating me like a cool kid to a tease, ok, i know my stuff can really entertain for this and future generations, dude

so, let’s have fun, dude

get angrier now, there's no sense denying it,

force fed lies to ostracize little girls from buying...

free candy ladies. look over here, James has a pink truck and i swear he's not queer. ha.

i got bubble gum, i know you want some, yummy yummy in the tummy, stop right there I'll force it down

choke. digest. you didn't chew, see how it gets when you don't listen,

Jamison is a confectionery in the kitchen.

i can bake you cookies, just get down on both knees...please.

see i already asked you nicely, .... you know you don't want me to start shoutin' and get violent....girl.

i thought you were my world, how loud do you want me to shout it..

now your lying somewhere where no one can hear you cry

i never thought I'd see the day the cake baker took a life...

and i tried...so hard, what could i do, everything in the world reminded me of you...eat some cookies.

they're a little ******, but they're not bad, maybe mix it in with the batter the next time I'm mad.

it didn't have to be this way. you forced me to do it,

i am a baker by trade and now I'm covered in your fluids....

god this is gross, ... how am I gonna get these stains outta these clothes

start to choke.

looking at your ****** body.

the... the... the... cadaver is just laying there looking back at me

smiling.

in my cookie shop I'm panicking...start to wonder how i got pushed this far

now all the cookies are burnt and crumbling.

gotta put those bodies in the oven.

recipes and sweets mean nothing when you don't have love

bake this cake at three hundred and fifty degrees...

just until the hearts inside get gooey and melt over me.

wow.

HI DUDES

THIS IS THE MANY SIDES OF DAD, FIRST HE WILL BOP TEACHING US MUSIC

OF HIS TIME, AND THEN TELL US TO EAT NICELY AT THE DINNER TIME

HE WOULD SING, OH ROSIE, LET’S DO THAT FOR THE BOYS

COME ON SUSIE, ROCK AND ROLL

AND THENN AFTER WHEN I ATE LIKE A SLOB AT THE DINNER TABLE

DAD WOULD CHEW HIS FOOD, LIKE AN OLD GRUMPY MAN

I WAS A BRATTY LITTLE KID, DAD SPOKE FOR THE CATS

HI FROM LADY, IN A LADIES VOICE

HI FROM SNOOPY IN A BIG MAN’S VOICE

HI FROM FLUFFY IN A POXLEY LADIES VOICE

YA SEE FLUFFY WAS THE CAT LIKE MISS PIGGY

I USED TO HAVE ARGUMENTS WITH THE CAT, SAYING MY BROTHER PUT ME IN CHARGE

AND HE SAID, SNOOPY, HE CALLS ME SNOOPY, YOU ARE BOSS OF YOURSELF

WHEN I AM AWAY, AND I WANTED TO BE THE ACTING MASTER, AND HE SAID

NO, YOUR BROTHER SAID SNOOPY, YOU ARE THE BOSS

AND DAD SANG THIS SONG WILD BILL HICCUP, OR SOMETHING WEIRD LIKE THAT

AND MY BROTHER SMILED AT ME, CAUSE, THAT LADY’S VOICE SOUNDED LIKE FLUFFY’S VOICE

YA SEE WE HAD CONVERSATIONS FOR THE CATS ALL DAY, BUT WHEN DAD WAS ANGRY

HE LET IT SHOW, I LIKED WHEN DAD SPOKE FOR THE CATS, BUT I HATED GETTING ANGRY TO MAKE HIM ANGRY

YOU SEE DAD WAS A BIT OF A STICK IN THE MUD, TELLING ME TO EAT NICELY

I HATED THAT, BUT I WAS LIKE THE KIDS AT THAT STAGE

BUT I TOLD DAD, TO GO AND **** A LEMON, HE GOT MUM’S FRIENDS TO DANCE

TO HIS VERSION OF SINGING IN THE RAIN, YA KNOW, CHOO CHOO CHA CHOO CHOO CHA

BUT I TOLD THE WORLD THIS, BUT I WANT DADS HUMOUR IN THE WORLD

DAD’S ADVICE NEARLY GOT MY HEAD PUNCHED IN AS I COPIED THAT

LIKE IF SOMEONE SAID, WHAT AM I LOOKING AT TWIRP, DAD TOLD ME TO SAY,

DUNNO HASN’T GOT A NAMETAG ON IT, BUT CANBERRA COULDN’T EXCEPT THIS

MAYBE, IT IS OFFENSIVE, TO THEM, BUT I ALSO DIDN’T STAND FOR THE ANZAC DAY

I WAS GETTING MIXED MESSAGE OF DAD AND THE YOUNG DUDES, CROWDING MY HEAD

I DON’T MIND THAT, CAUSE NO KID WANTS TO BE TOTALLY LIKE THEIR FATHER

MY BROTHER WAS A LITTLE COOL KID, WHEN HE USED TO TEASE ME, AND THEN USED

TO GET INTO FIGHTS WITH ME BY THE POOL, I MAYBE HATED AT FIRST

BUT I AM NOT LIVING WITH PAST TEASING, I USED TO THROW STUMPS AT MY BROTHER

HE WAS SAYING, I WASN’T A COOL KID, I SAID, HE WASN’T A COOL KID

WE FOUGHT, WRESTLED, AND PLAYED BACKYARD CRICKET

WITH ALL OUR NEIGHBOURS, OH YEAH THAT’S COOL AS

DAD LOOKED LIKE DADDY LONG LEGS, AND MUM WAS MUMMY SHORT LEGS

AS THEY WERE HAVING A HIT IN BACKYARD

I HAD MY VERY OWN FOOTBALL LEAGUE, AND I PLAYED FOR BRIGHTON

AND DAD PLAYED FOR CCAE, WHICH IS NOW UNIVERSITY OF CANBERRA

AND DAD SCORED ABOUT 1000 GOALS SITTING IN THE FORWARD POCKET OF OUR FRONT YARD

I USED TO GET SICK OF DAD LOOKING AT ME, AT BEING A LITTLE SHY BOY

I HAD MY PLANS TO GET ON TV, THANKS TO MY BROTHER, FOR MAKING IT EASIER

I AM SUFFERING, BUT I FEEL POSITIVE ABOUT HITTING THE BIG SMOKE

BUT MY BROTHER AND DAD’S SENSE OF HUMOUR, GOT ME THINKING

WELL, MAYBE A LITTLE TOO IMAQGINATIVE, BUT IT MADE ME THE COOL PERSON I AM TODAY

I PERFORMED IN TWO PLAYS, URBAN DREAMINGT 2003, AND MOVE SPEAK ACT FOR MINDSCAPES

IN 2014, I HAVE TO SIT TIGHT, BUT THERE IS TRUTH IN THE FACT, THAT BIG THINGS HAPPEN TO THOSE WHO WAIT

EVERY BLADE OF GRASS TO BE SOWN, MOVE SPEAK ACT HAD FUN WITH MY EVERY BLADE OF GRASS THEORY

IN A THEATRICAL WAY, MADE ME FEEL GOOD, DAD ALWAYS SAID, TO START SMALL

DAD GAVE ME A COMPUTER, SO I CAN BE FAMOUS ON YOUTUBE, WELL, HE WAS GIVING ME THE COMPUTER

CAUSE I NEEDED TO LEARN, BUT DAD USED TO TELL FUNNY JOKES TO FAMILY AND FRIENDS

THEN HE STARTED TELLING HIS LIFE STORY

I HOPE, IF DAVID CAMPBELL AND LISA CAMPBELL GET CATS OR DOGS, YOUR FUTURE TWINS IS MY DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS

TALK FOR THE CATS, YA SEE ROBIN WILLIAMS AND DAD ARE ALIKE, IF YA LISTEN TO THEIR HUMOUR

IROBIN WILLIAMS DID IT IN HOLLYWOOD, DAD DID ITWITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS, THINK ABOUT IT

ROBIN WILLIAMS AND DAD ARE THE PERFECT TWINS, BUDDHA DID THIS, SO THEUY CAN CROSS PATHS

LOOK OUT DAVID CAMPBELL AND LISA CAMPBELL, YOUR  TWINS ARE FUNNY

**** ANY MAN OUT OF YA COTTON PICKING HEAD, I PREFER DAD MATURE

I LIKED HISV FUN SIDE, **** HIS BIG BIG MAN, I WAS SITTTING ON THE COUCH

CAUSE OF THE FUN DAD HAD

BUT I HEAR VOICES NOW, OF ME GOING TO JAMISON SLIDE

AND SPENDING 2 HOURS ON THE SL;IDE, ATTENDING POOL PARTIES

DAD PROBABLY THOUGHT THIS WAS COOL, BUT I WAS NOT A LITTLE PARENTS BOY

I WAS A FAMILY PERSON WHO LOVES LIFE

BRING DAD AND ROBIN WILLIAMS TOGETHER JIMMY BARNESY’S GRANDCHILDREN

BOBBYE DAD, ENJOY NEXT LIFE WITH RW

How nice would it be if
Empathy
Was as easy as cross check done move on?
As simple as sewing several stitches
Slapping on a “come back in a few weeks”
Put some ice on it and pop a few pills?

Empathy means realizing no trauma has discrete edges.
Trauma bleeds.
Out of wounds and across boundaries.
Sadness becomes a seizure.

When someone carves their soul open
Letting its contents spill out
The blood and guts in all their glory
How can the bandaid of that must really be hard
Stop the stream of sorrow?
How do we expect to be a tourist in the suffering of others
While reducing them to a bundle of symptoms?

Empathy is not a meteor shower of synapses
Firing across the brain
It is a choice we make to extend ourselves.

If you want to show empathy
Get your bags packed and your passport ready
You enter another person’s pain
As you’d enter another country.
You crawl into that box
Even if it’s a tight fit
And you sit.
And you listen.
And you let yourself be pierced by pain and bittersweetness
And you look for the horizon beyond the visible.
You don’t steal an experience, but you share the slice of story.
You learn that even if you mark checklist item thirty-one
It will never be over, never really cross check done.

Drunk,

With logical operators out of sync
He marches

Temptation fixed in his mouth
Pockets erupting fear
And misinterpreted erections

His mother sits in the corner of his eye
As another shot of Jamison enters his body
She’s worried about his faith in God
While he just wants to **** something tonight

“He’s a teenager.” Daddy says

But Daddy smokes a lot of ***
And his boy has sin in his heart

Spin, Daddy, Spin
You’re head is on backwards now
Gaze placed on another dime bag

Now your son is in the bathroom
With a girl pinned against the door
He's sliding his hand up her skirt
As tears trickled down her porcelain skin

She was 16 and a ******

As he pulls his pants on, he smirks and says to her
“You lost your sheen pretty lady.”

i am a little cool kid looking at my little thumbs

you see i might look timid but i ain’t that dumb

you see i hate people trying to rob me, i am terrified of that

you see if someone hassled me on the street

i will be naturally scared oh yeah

i don’t like trusting people because they scrub me off

you see my little thumbs are going eeeeee like the fonz

maybe i was teasing my father thinking that is what family people do

i really like my father because he protected me oh yeah

i was scared of dogs and it drove my brother mad

how i never passed the dog, even if it can’t jump over the fence

and when i tied myself up because i was scared of being kidnapped

i know i was big but i don’t want people to want to fight me

when a kid said i was his mob and i tied myself up on family

but i ain’t into being kidnapped because it is horrible ya see

i was a little cool kid, never told a lie

that was because i wanted to hold my hand on the pie

you see i asked a man to kidnap me and i stopped cars

to get a ride, to nowhere in particular just so i can feel i have been taken

but my little thumbs and little fingers

sit around the coke oh yeah

i have always watch cool shows dudes like you can’t do that on television and the young ones

and neighbours yeah

and i watched a lot of movies and had popcorn too

i went to Jamison water slide to swim with the kids

and then i go to the belconnen mall and have a puffin donut yeah mate yeah

but if banyone who fought me i would try and say, i don’t believe in violence

cause the world ain’t ready for my eternity things

i know just one thing, fighting doesn’t solve anything

you could win one battle and they come and rob your house

and you look at the ship marks on your legs and then i will shy right up

i know i like being safe in my own little home

drinking a coke saying with my teeth clenched,i am a little cool kid

because i had lyle as a friend, i tried to be a cool kid

flashing my little thumbs up and down

that is how i was a little teenager

There wasn't a method only a madness.
There was no serenity.
Only a sadness.

The stars will shine and the skies will cry.
Neither one cares for,
you or I.

The oceans will foam on the mouth of the wind.
While it whispers your name,
Now and again.

As supernovas go you were by far the brightest.
You needn't worry about that girl.
Not in the slightest.

This song isn't over and with you I'm not done.
For you are my moon.
And I was your sun.

The fireflies dance to your every whim.
Though unlike you.
They sometimes go dim.

This isn't goodnight and it isn't farewell.
Say it again.
Jamison Bell.

I’ve been in Canberra for 40 long years
I had my fair share of friends and enemies oh yeah
A friend was doing tickle torture on me
Yes Canberra is home
I found the waterslide at Jamison was cool
But as I got older it became a fucken hole
No more pool parties no more
Yes Canberra is home
They had good movie theatres there
Like Electric shadows centre cinema and greater union oh yeah
Capitol in Manuka
Cosmopolitan in Woden
But now you still see them
But different names oh yeah
Yes Canberra is home
I went to see the cannons play basketball
It was fun and I got on tv
And I felt famous yeah
We drank coke and chips
And a pie by name
Yes Canberra is home
And cannons won a few titles yeah
I also went to the raiders matches
Even back in the days they played
In Queanbeyan yeah
An afternoon in the mighty struggletown
Watching the green machine play
Then the green machine played in Bruce
We don’t need to catch buses
We can just walk oh yeah
They won championships
They were the best
But from 1995 they lost their touch
Then in 2019 they got to their first
Grand final in a while
They played well but the ref
Robbed them of the match
To give the roosters their second
Premiership in a row
Yes Canberra is home
I am still here despite being mentally ill
I worked hard at north south and the rainbow oh yeah
Wasn’t getting much money
I just helped them out oh yeah
Yes Canberra is home
I started to work CPA
Where I worked hard at ainslie village
And actew and construction sites
I was getting paid $3 to 8-50 an hour oh yeah
Yes Canberra is home
I worked as a volunteer for the Belconnen magpies
I did the barbecue and I loved it for a while everyone was happy with me
Yes Canberra is home
I worked for vinnies in Belconnen oh yeah
When I was there I was more positive oh yeah
And I played Santa Claus at Christmas and I made the kids happy
Yes Canberra is home
Now every place in the world had
The coronavirus Canberra had very few cases but still needs to be careful oh yeah
But sport is still on without much crowd
But I still we still everyone still
Calls Canberra home

I’ll only be able to write you
As I knew you way back when
All those moments that we laughed together
Every now and then
Now you’re out there somewhere
And I can only hope that you are well
Just remember you have a friend
Named Jamison ****** Bell

CAST**
Eddie Loughton (20 June 1903 – 21 March 1952) dead at 48
Monte Collins (December 3, 1898 – June 1, 1951) dead at 52
Bud Jamison (February 15, 1894 – Sept. 30, 1944) dead at 50
“Curly” Jerome Horwitz (Oct. 22, 1903 – Jan. 18, 1952) '' 48
John Tyrrell (December 7, 1900 – September 20, 1949)  '' 48

Sublime silence on the outcast marshes casted against the grey hills, too many large avarice’s to climb before the night fills up from the 32 brothers of Jain laying outside casually laying next to brains how then tomorrow comes just a little too early with farmhands and families chiding across the stone fences of solidified ones next too left faced so the wind caught the lifters before dragging upon the pavement red colors slurry with the clear curry favors from boot kickers thinking feet taste like curry hurry now before the bloated bow of Jamison’s ship across the American gates drift to sleep more often than you know but you’ll never find from the laughing torn apart from targets harnessed the underdarks promise trough filled till the gauntlets hill squealing pig fissure separating spectators from sepulcher never pauses left breathless whistles hasten to the untimely demise what a trend a friend asked me what I was doing but couldn’t respond because the algorithm wouldn’t let me breath heavily disaster of compost composing a decomposition of which snitch position to behead quietly an analogy of past tense and future meaning bereft of any merit to trust those qualifying for positions of power hours are 7-6am and please don’t push breath out of dispensers

This here is a true story about when I went to watch the choir boys at the Charnwood inn, I caught the bus out there and went into the inn to sit at the bar, nobody wanted to talk to me because I looked really weird in my blue jeans and I loved the choirboys music, the first song was struggletown, then run to paradise and then I came up to dancefloor and sang boys will be boys ever so cool, I sat back down and this kidnapper was staring at me and I looked at him and he said to me ‘what are you looking at’ I was going to say what my dad taught me but then I remembered what happened at Jamison oval, that day, so I bit my tongue and mind you I was starting to get this awful ******* thinking this guy wants to **** me and then he got up from his seat and stole my wallet and all the money that came with it, and later that week I had to get a new pension card, but that is another story, what was happening is, he was shaking me up so I would jitter and come out to him, you see before that I was a real rebel, I was punching people at the bar, which made other people yell at me but I went to the dance floor and danced more to the choirboys and the girls wanted me to dance with them but I was worried I will be forced to buy them a drink and a man stole my wallet and I ran away from them, and straight into this man and grabbed me by the legs, I managed to escaped but I forgot about him taking my wallet and I ran back to my place at the bar nothing there and I was scared I was going to be killed and ran outside I saw him near the taxis and it was pitch black and I ran for the exit and I don’t know, if the car was stolen or his but when I reached Charnwood shops the guy pulled over and said wanna ride mate, hop in and he drove my as far as the Latham wet lands and opened my door and took me by the hand and said I know you live and your house is on the other side of the wetlands and because it was 2 in the morning as well as being pitch black I
Fell down into a ***-hole and my foot got caught in a branch and I smelt and looked filthy and I was trying to break free from this branch and that took 1 hour and thirty minutes and at 3-30am I slowly made it back to the road where he dropped me off and started to walk toward ginninderra drive and because I was a bit of a Woosey I went along the road singing boys will be boys really loudly and then I saw a taxi and he stopped for me and i explained I was robbed at the Charnwood inn and I can’t pay him but he drove me home because I looked messy, I said do you want me to get the money off mum and dad and the driver said, no buddy just go inside and have a good sleep, but being the boy who loved to kidnapped himself I tied myself up thinking what a horrible night and I slept in my filthy jeans, because I didn’t feel like a conservo anymore, that was the night Canberra got me

In 1930 crooning actors Jimmie Adams (1888–1933) & Bud Jamison (1894 – 1944) performed as "The Rolling Stones." Y mas intriqué: Dan Blocker never met a gall bladder surgeon who didn't **** him. [Without pain there can be no Spain.]

PIGS AT BOTTOM, of heart, chest, entrails...
Why are blondes attracted to *******?
   Furnace expert: “I don't care who freezes to death!”    
   Furnace expert's wife: “My husband beats me in the cellar!”
   Unemployment expert: “I've been employed as an
unemployment expert for twenty-seven years.”
   Richard Nixon's barber: “Since Richard Nixon crapped out
I can't distinguish between **** roast and hind quarters.”