I was in a nightclub

I saw under wears
and people drinking from tiny glasses.

I saw no food and only drinks
but people gets thirstier after each one.

I saw laughters and energy
but no smiles or warm hugs.

I saw love,
but towards another's body.

I was in a nightclub
and it was not where I want to be.

My heart drums like the beat of an EDM song at a nightclub.

Angels in a nightclub


There are angels in my heart and angels in sight;
There are angels everywhere I look tonight.
This is surely Heaven, for there is magic in the air.
The finest, most beautiful, angels are here.


There are not enough words, to express the way that I feel;
There are not enough ways to say you are beautiful.
There is not enough time for me to show you my feelings are real.
There is just enough time for me to change your world.


To catch your eye, to make you smile;
An automatic response, you cannot deny.
Admit you love me, or at least don’t hate me,
Then my heart can be set free.


One day angel tears may fall from our eyes,
But right now we could be something, so raise a smile.
You can’t be sad, when I look so silly,
When I am simply, being me.
Trying hard to make you laugh;
Exchanging vanity for looking daft.


Darkness lets you dance freely,
So you can let go and fall in love with me.
We are two people; we both know one is not enough.
Let us become Romeo and Juliet; let us each find love.


Kiss me goodnight and hold me tight.
My angel in the nightclub…
You changed my life.


(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Hand in hand
We float across this icy land
Stiff and stumbling you take my hand
Through clouds we fly
But never land.

Nightclub atrocities to background melodies

With you beside me
The coldness Is subsiding.
Though here for another
We found each other
With a dashing smile and blue green eyes you steal my heart

No longer floating
But now, we glide
Through skies of blue and red
Through seas of deepest green
Just touching the water
We hold one another

*I believe my love has been found this afternoon.

party zone with sue longways



hi everyone, my name is sue longways and what a night we have for you

you see i will start with a great song, here it goes

one look in your eyes makes me feel oh continental

diamonds are a girls best friend

parties are fun for girls and also guys yeah

we have diamonds which is a girls best friend

me, sue longways is partying every day and night oh yeah

diamonds oh diamonds are a girl’s best friend

and now here is sue about to interview kendoll from scullin

sue’   hi everyone welcome back to party zone and as you might be aware

the GWS footy team beat hawthorn and sydney beat melbourne

a win for sydney against melbourne and what a walloping win for the canberra raiders

and ken doll how did you feel about those victories

kendoll’  well, it was great to see the swans and GWS, and the mighty raiders, well, that is a shock result

for them, and i was glancing the internet, and i saw belconnen magpies first grade side

nearly got a 200 game

sue’  yeah you were telling me back stage

kendoll’    and another thing, as i was watching the swans, the warriors beat the sharks and the cowboys beat

thje bulldogs and

sue’   yeah talking about rugby league, you promised us, you will sing the green machine song in a tu tu if they beat the titans

so why not try it

kendoll’  ok i will just get my tu tu

ken doll puts his tu tu on with a bit of a laugh

kendoll’   we’re the bad and mean green machine,

fearsome men from the ACT

don’t try and stop these men in green

or we will hit ys hit ya hit ya, till you see green

sue’  how do you feel mr kendoll

kendoll’   i feel great, UP THE RAIDERS, SWANS AND DOCKERS AND GWS, what a great performance these teams

played for us tonight

sue’  thanks kendoll and now we will go to tina dermott from casey, tina, how are you feeling tonight

tina’   i feel like singing

not a dime i cannot pay my rent

i can barely make it through the week

saturday night is party night i want to meet a girl

but right now i cannot make my ends meet

i am always working slaving every day

gotta get a break from that same old same old

i need a chance just to get away

this is what i say

i need nothing but a good time

how can i resist, i saw belconnen magpies

almost get 200, i feel really really pumped, oh yeah

sue’  yeah it was great to see the magpies get 196 points today, and it was also great to see the raiders get 56

tina’   yeah, and i just came from the sports bar, and fremantle dockers beat essendon, i feel like singing

freo, oh free heavho

free way to go, we beat the bombers easily so

free way to go, we’re the mighty fremantle dockers

free way to go, we’re the best team oh yeah we are so

free way to go, we are the free dockers

sue’  yeah go the mighty dockers and thanks tina, go the  dockers and now we have larry king jar with us

larry’  yeah sue, i feel like old 80s trash so i will sing old 80s trash

last night i was dreaming

i was locked in a prison cell

when i woke up i was screaming

calling out your name

and the judge and the the jury, put the blame on me

they won’t go for my story, they will lock me away

only you can set me free, cause i am guilty, guilty

guilty as a guy can be

dreaming yeah makes me feel so ALIVE, oh yeah

of love in the first degree

sue’  yeah, that is a wonderful song, thank you larry and now here is marcus from higgins

marcus hi sue, and i am singing my song, we’re not going to take it, the lines to get in civic nightclubs

you see we have the right to get in there

ya know party on saturday night party night yeah

i can’t understand why this line is taking so **** long

and there is some weird odour, smells like a combination of dirt and snot yeah

yeah it is the person next to me, boy does he really pong

i said i am not going to take it, i really am into breaking point

i can’t take these nightclub lines no more

my mates call me a little girlie others said i was an oldie

i can’t take these nightclub lines anymore

sue’  way to go marcus, the nightclub owners should allow heaps of people in, but then your packed in like sardines, what can we do

and our last guest is fred from gar ran

fred’  yeah, i will sing hallueiah

i hear the swans and the giants did win

and the raiders and the cowboys won

we don’t really care for losing do, us

go the mighty free ,man, and adfelaide, who are the pride of SA

yeah, this is the big moment we sing halleiah

sue’   ok dudes, i hope you enjoyed party zone tonight. if ya want to meet these people, pop round to the city club before 2 am ok

ands PARTY HARDY won’t stardy

PriestlyPriestly
14 hours ago

you say fifty people
I SAY FIFTY GAY PEOPLE
you say nightclub
I SAY GAY NIGHTCLUB
you say the shooter was mentally ill
I SAY HOW DARE YOU PERPETUATE THE STIGMA
THAT MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE ARE SOMEHOW DANGEROUS
WHEN THERE HAVE BEEN COUNTLESS NEUROTYPICALS
THAT HAVE DONE HORRIBLE THINGS OF THEIR OWN VOLITION
you say this was isis
I SAY HOW DARE YOU CONTINUE TO SUPPORT THIS ISLAMOPHOBIA
THIS WAS THE WORK OF ONE MAN
ONE MAN WITH A GUN
AND NOW FIFTY OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD  
SO I SAY HOW DARE YOU
TRY TO MAKE THIS ANYTHING ELSE THAN WHAT IS OBVIOUSLY IS
THIS WAS A HATE CRIME
AND THE WORST SLAUGHTER
-BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT WAS-
IN HUNDREDS OF YEARS
AND IT WAS A HATE CRIME AGAINST THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY
SO HOW DARE YOU TRY TO DOWNPLAY THIS
TO A MENTAL ILLNESS AND AN AFFILIATION WITH ISIS
BECAUSE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD
AND YOU SAYING well this happens to other people all the time
ERASES THE FACT THAT YES I KNOW THIS HAPPENS TO OTHER PEOPLE
BUT THIS HAPPENED TO GAY PEOPLE
AT A GAY NIGHTCLUB
AND NOW A PLACE THAT SHOULD BE SAFE
FOR MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS
AND FOR ME
IS NO LONGER SAFE
BECAUSE A MAN WITH A GUN DECIDED THAT
SINCE WE ARE DIFFERENT THAN HE IS
WE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LIVE

The 9.6 million followers who tune in to watch Miranda Kerr having her hair done on Instagram — for this is how models spend most of their time — were treated to a rather more interesting sight last Thursday: a black and white photograph of a whacking great diamond ring.

Across it was the caption “Marry me!” and a twee animation of the tech mogul Evan Spiegel on bended knee. Underneath Kerr had typed “I said yes!!!” and an explosion of heart emojis.

A spokesman for Spiegel, founder of the Snapchat mobile app, who is 26 to Kerr’s 33 and worth $US 2.1 billion to her $US 42.5 million , revealed “they are very happy”.

At first, the marriage seems an unlikely combination: a man so bright he founded Snapchat while still at Stanford University, becoming one of the world’s youngest self-made billionaires by 22, and a Victoria’s Secret model who was previously married to the Pirates of the Caribbean star Orlando Bloom (she allegedly had a fling with pop brat Justin Bieber, leading Bloom to punch Beebs in a posh Ibiza restaurant).

Perhaps the union indicates that there is more to Kerr than we thought. More likely, it reveals something about Spiegel — and the way the social status of “geeks” has changed.

Since Steve Jobs made computers cool and Millennials started living online, nerds are king. Even coding is **** enough for the model Karlie Kloss, singer will.i.am and actor Ashton Kutcher to learn it. Silicon Valley has become the new Hollywood, as moguls and social media barons take over from film stars and sportsmen not just on rich lists, but as alpha men.

Being a co-founder of a company is this decade’s equivalent to being a rock star or a chef. And, if their attractiveness to models and actresses proves anything, then being a Twag — tech wife or girlfriend — is a “thing”. Sources tell me Twags are also known as “founder-hounders” because they like to date the creators of start-up companies.

Actress Talulah Riley was an early adopter. She started dating the PayPal founder Elon Musk in 2008. Riley, then fresh from starring in the St Trinian’s film, met Musk in London’s Whisky Mist nightclub after he had delivered a lecture at the Royal Aeronautical Society. I interviewed her shortly afterwards and she told me they had spent the evening talking about “quantum physics”. A month later they were engaged. Their on-again-off-again marriage lasted six years before she filed for divorce again in March. Currently Musk, worth an estimated $US 12.7 billion and focused on Tesla cars, is said to be “spending a lot of time” with Johnny Depp’s estranged wife, Amber Heard.

Model Lily Cole dated the Twitter founder Jack Dorsey in 2013. Later she had a son with Kwame Ferreira, founder of the digital innovation agency Kwamecorp. Actress Emma Watson is going out with William Knight, an “adventurer” who has an incredibly boringly sounding job as a senior manager at Medallia, a software company. Allison Williams, Marnie in the HBO television show Girls, is married to Ricky Van Veen, co-founder of College Humor website.

Could it be that these women are onto something? Dating a bro certainly has its appeal. They are innovative: how else would they invent apps that deliver cheese toasties or match singles based on their haircuts? They are risk-takers who must be charismatic enough to inspire investors and attract crowd-funding. They may not be gym-fit, but they are mathletes who can do your tax bill. They are animal lovers: every start-up is dog friendly. And they are fun: who would not want to date somebody with a ball pool in their office?

There is a saying about dating in Silicon Valley: the odds are good but the goods are odd. Nerds are notorious for peculiar chat-up lines and normcore clothes. Still, if geeks can be awkward, that is part of their charm. Keira Knightley, complaining that Silicon Valley was all men in hoodies and Crocs, described how one gave her his card, saying she should get in touch if she wanted to see a spaceship.

One Vogue writer recalled a Silicon Valley man messaging her via a dating app, in which he noted: “In 50 per cent of your photos you’re holding an iPhone. It may interest you to find out that I invented the iPhone. More accurately I was an engineer on the original iPhone . . .”

Most promisingly, some guys are astoundingly rich. It is suggested Kerr’s engagement ring is a 2.5-carat diamond worth around dollars 55,000. She has already moved into Spiegel’s dollars 12m LA pad. Between his money and her Victoria’s Secrets bridesmaids, no wonder sources claim they are planning an “extravagant wedding”.

It might rival even the Napster founder Sean Parker’s $US10m performance-art bash. He married songwriter Alexandra Lenas in a canopy among Big Sur’s redwoods decorated to look like an enchanted forest. Some 350 guests wore Tolkienesque costumes created by The Lord of the Rings costume designer Ngila Dickson. They sat on white fur rugs and were given bunnies to pet. Presumably rabbit babysitters were on hand when the disco started.

If such fantasies inspire you to become a Twag, the great news is you do not have to be a supermodel to be in with a chance. Such is the dearth of single women in Silicon Valley that one dating site, Dating Ring, crowdfunded a plane to fly single women to Palo Alto from New York.

Be warned, though: guys are single because they are married to the job.

No wonder most meet their partners at college or work — the Facebook chief executive Mark Zuckerberg met his wife, Priscilla Chan, at Harvard.

The Instagram co-founder Kevin Systrom met girlfriend Nicole Schuetz at Stanford. Melinda met Bill Gates when, in 1987, they sat next to each other at an Expo trade-fair dinner. “He was funnier than I expected him to be,” she said.

Kerr began dating Spiegel in 2014 after meeting him at a Louis Vuitton dinner in New York. You can bet he was networking. Shortly after Louis Vuitton showcased their cruise collection in a Snapchat story. Last season Snapchat went on to become the biggest new name at NY fashion week.

If you want to meet tech guys, you might catch them at Silicon Valley parties, which is how the Uber chief executive Travis Kalanick met his partner, Gabi Holzwarth, a violinist hired to play. Or they might be schmoozing clients downtown in a swanky Noe Valley club in San Francisco or a boring Union Square hotel in New York. In London you find them around Old Street, aka Silicon Roundabout, in bars, at hackathons, or start-up meet-ups. In the day they are coding at Google Campus or practising their pitching in a co-working space.

Some tech boys date the old-fashioned way: on Tinder. Airbnb founder Brian Chesky met his girlfriend of three years, Elissa Patel, through the app. When I interviewed Instagram co-founder Systrom he admitted that when he had been single he had signed up.

Dating agency Linx — presumably a play on operating system Linux — is dedicated to making Silicon Valley matches. Amy Andersen set it up in 2003 after moving to Palo Alto and being “flabbergasted” by the number of eligible men. She claims her clients are “extremely dynamic and successful individuals’’: tech founders, tech chief executives, financier founding partners of large institutions and “tons of entrepreneurs”.

Andersen says tech guys make “fabulous partners”. Romantic and chivalrous, they write love letters, plan dates, “even proposing on Snapchat!” If you want to marry a tech billionaire, she says, “you need to bring your A game.” Her clients look “for women who are equally, if not more, dynamic and interesting than he is!”

There are drawbacks to dating tech guys. Before Google buys your amore’s business, he will be living on *** Noodles waiting for the next round of funding — and workaholics are dull.

Kerr says Spiegel is “25, but he acts like he’s 50. He’s not out partying. He goes to work in Venice [Beach], he comes home. We don’t go out. We’d rather be at home and have dinner, go to bed early.” Which might suit Kerr, but is not my idea of a fun.

You had also better be prepared to share your life. When Priscilla Chan miscarried three times, Mark Zuckerberg wrote about it on Facebook, while Chesky used a romantic trip with his girlfriend to promote Airbnb - uploading a picture of her in bed, with a note saying “f* hotels”. Besides all of which is the notorious issue of Silicon Valley sexism.

It has a chief exec-bro culture that puts pick-up artist/comedian Dapper Laughs to shame. Ninety per cent of women working in the Valley say they have witnessed sexist behaviour, 60 per cent have experienced unwanted ****** advances at work, two thirds of them from their boss. Whitney Wolfe, a co-founder of Tinder, took Justin Mateen to court for ****** harassment. Her lawsuit against the company alleged that Mateen, her former partner, sent text messages calling her a “*****”.

Spiegel has tech bro form. He apologised after emails from his days at Stanford emerged: missives about stripper poles, getting black-out drunk, shooting lasers at “fat chicks”, and promising to “roll a blunt for whoever sees the most **** tonight (Sunday)”. After one fraternity Hawaiian luau party, he signed off emails “f*bitchesgetleid”.

No wonder some women are not inspired to become Twags. Especially when you could be a tech billionaire yourself. Would you not rather be Sheryl Sandberg, chief operating officer of Facebook, than married to the boss?Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses

you say fifty people
I SAY FIFTY GAY PEOPLE
you say nightclub
I SAY GAY NIGHTCLUB
you say the shooter was mentally ill
I SAY HOW DARE YOU PERPETUATE THE STIGMA
THAT MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE ARE SOMEHOW DANGEROUS
WHEN THERE HAVE BEEN COUNTLESS NEUROTYPICALS
THAT HAVE DONE HORRIBLE THINGS OF THEIR OWN VOLITION
you say this was isis
I SAY HOW DARE YOU CONTINUE TO SUPPORT THIS ISLAMOPHOBIA
THIS WAS THE WORK OF ONE MAN
ONE MAN WITH A GUN
AND NOW FIFTY OF MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD  
SO I SAY HOW DARE YOU
TRY TO MAKE THIS ANYTHING ELSE THAN WHAT IS OBVIOUSLY IS
THIS WAS A HATE CRIME
AND THE WORST SLAUGHTER
-BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT IT WAS-
IN HUNDREDS OF YEARS
AND IT WAS A HATE CRIME AGAINST THE LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY
SO HOW DARE YOU TRY TO DOWNPLAY THIS
TO A MENTAL ILLNESS AND AN AFFILIATION WITH ISIS
BECAUSE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS ARE DEAD
AND YOU SAYING well this happens to other people all the time
ERASES THE FACT THAT YES I KNOW THIS HAPPENS TO OTHER PEOPLE
BUT THIS HAPPENED TO GAY PEOPLE
AT A GAY NIGHTCLUB
AND NOW A PLACE THAT SHOULD BE SAFE
FOR MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS
AND FOR ME
IS NO LONGER SAFE
BECAUSE A MAN WITH A GUN DECIDED THAT
SINCE WE ARE DIFFERENT THAN HE IS
WE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO LIVE

Don't fall in love with a girl who reads.
The girl who feels everything, who dreams, who writes..

Fall in love with the girl you find in a bar. Find her in the squall of smoke and sweat of an upscale nightclub. Make sure she doesn't mix her coffee with bourbon. Love the one shooting tequila straight from a cheap, half-empty bottle. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure it lingers a little too long. Use pickup lines and entertain her with meaningless slurs from a long day and mistakes you know are about to be made. Take her outside and kiss her in the rain because you saw it in a film. Comment on its silliness.

Pull her into a tolerable relationship. Let the months pass by without remark. Then let years pass by unnoticed. Talk about nothing of significance and retreat into it when the air grows stale and the evenings become long. Fight about how the shower curtain needs to be kept closed. Propose a little later because you realize you'd have wasted so much time otherwise. Take her to a restaurant that wreaks of marinara sauce and sheepishly ask the waiter to bring a bottle of expensive champagne. Offer up a modest ring and don't become too concerned if you feel nothing of sincerity or commitment. But fake it, ******* it.

Do these things. Because a life lived in purgatory is better than one lived in hell. She will make it hell. I'm begging you, stay away from the one who reads. Who laughs or cries when she makes love. Who can neatly fold her spirit and spin it into prose and poetry. If she loves poetry, run away. Don't dare to look back. She is to be left alone. Dangerous little smiles should make you shake. Do not smile back.

Do not fall in love with a girl who thinks. Who is made up of magic and knows herself. Do not love the one who knows how to disappear inside of a book or a poem or a painting. If she spends any more than a few seconds looking into the eyes of a sinner, get out of there.

Don't fall in love with the girl who is interested in politics, who feels disease in injustices. Don't love the one who is intense, who is lucid and charismatic. Stay away from the one who has any sense of ambition, of rebellion, or even the smallest hint of wonder in her eyes. Be cautious of the ones who can't live without music. If she can draw, quit, and quit fast.

A girl who reads is one who knows herself; who is sure. She is educated and she is fire inside a bottle of rye. The girl who reads is one who is comfortable with goodbyes. Think about it: she's read millions of novels and each one ends. Most end with the death of her favorite character. They make her think. And she flies through the pages like they are wet wine on collarbones. And she is okay with each and every ending. Sure, she might cry, but she'll wipe her face and pick up another book. Just to do it all over again. Remember this if she ever says her favorite book is you.

She is a romantic and how can you match up to the princes and heroes in her books? She knows nothing else. You can't love her the way those characters could if they were to take shape. She holds a vocabulary that lays claim to her ability to distinguish between the specious and the soulless. She holds rhetoric hands that turn black streaks into the books she loves so deeply. She deserves a man who can hold her hand the way she holds her books. Someone who can write her notes and hide them in her lunch box. Can you write in cursive the way she can?

Please, don't fall in love with a girl who reads. Because a girl like that, you never come back from.

secrets at dusk
tasted vigorous as
Coltrane blues

in a smokey nightclub
under mysterious saxophone seas

this style is not my own
but it helps me swim better

I decided to adopt it
curious why it tugs ruthless
on spit fire sleeves

deliciously drowning me free.




forest moons at night

help you drop it all
bags of unwanted programs
flung from broken chimneys

violet threads pass perfect
through kitchen chipped glass

moth wings burning summer up
like her eyelash fluttering innocently on some other guy's cheek

shattering divisions snag
on moonlight betrayal dance

enormous sea hooks chop in
helpless lips seduced
mad quicksilver rush

reserve this room for my only friend

we have private letters to write
on a future night when
god dreams come true.

This is for you.





My only friend.


What weighs heavy is certain light
how it pierces
through troubled waters.

A million traces of faces
lit up in every beam.

One night I felt it bleed through me
using rivers of sun-fire screams.

Volcanic poetry spoke without a sound.

Jim Morrison breaking through doors
under spells of hypnotic waves
wild vibrant shimmering
on multi-colored sheets.

This style is not my own
but it helped me lava streak
across bitter shores.




Now,

my voice strays away.

Gone hunting

a broken well voice
picked up by an old cracked bucket
leaking simple worded wishes

deciding to voluntarily borrow her
stolen forest eyes.

I heard them speak translucent leaf
on a summer day
when clairvoyant kids
heard God speak

on pathways of brilliant blue lake

when sunshine
whispered us
in scintillating ripples

right before our astounded,
washed feet.




I am dripping funeral summer sweat
under tombstone studded trees

smiling while choking in
liquid clouded dark.

Alone but not alone.

Mighty Ghosts of heaven
holding my head up

making sure the Nile
doesn't gush out while
I still cannot even write or speak

turn my notebooks into confetti
nothing describes this mysterious sea

a new species of saxophone waves
has belted its killer wonderland
sound out across an entire broken stage.


*

I can picture us
walking barefoot
on star contacted sand

gazing out
under champion chandelier wonders

walking on Texas Lightning storm colors
bellies full on Rumi soul food

our secret flames
burning up
plastic playgrounds

violating propriety
on some nuclear guarded beach

schools of fish cut
by saxophone hooked seas

blasted by vaults of unwrapped poems
someone else wrote perfect
in our dreams

we hope one day
the unpredictable silence
of simple worded wishes

will help us

extravagantly bloom
new spring leaves
rain stamped on tender delicious works

after winter is done
savagely wishing us dead
we are touched by other worlds.

If there's one thing that's consistent in this broken up
world it's the music, it cleanses my soul and I've been addicted
since and everything else in my life is falling apart
and you want to get me high, way up there in the stars
flashing from the lights above our head
I just want to forget it all and get lost in the fog, set me on fire
and throw your body away from mine and pull right back
occlusion of the smoke's got me thinking about nothing
in party particular, partially unaware and these leaping forms
got nothing on the sweetness of the bitter crowded club at 1am

i actually remember when sudoku was introduced
to the west... it went down like a salt beef bagel from
that jewish restaurant on brick
                              lane after a night out drinking...

i never took to it, in the sense that
i might compete doing it...
i mean, there's this story
about the original take that
members (which included robbie
williams) had a competition
concerning: who could
******* the quickest...
      
    that sounds stiff... but then i tried
to lessen the americanism
   since **** can also mean a jamaican
sauce... so no jerking competition...
but then again i was watching
a whole lot of blaire white
videos...
              i didn't even hear the transgender
bit after a few videos
          is that an honest statement?
well.. if you told me she was transgender
would i believe you?
       maybe only until that
trainspotting scene where begbie takes
"her" to the car and finds a surprise present...
  
   i had a moment like that in real life,
picked up this thai girl in the park
took her rome, a few beers and
  michael greilsammer's je me réveille album
later (miles davis didn't work on her)
we were off to to the garden to "talk"
of birds and bees...
           and since she looked so boyish
and wore a very tight sports bra
     and how she did say she was bisexual
i didn't know what i'd find... hmm... ha ha...
luckily i found something i was compatible
with...

that's why i mention blaire white...
            i was fooled... god, but this drivel talk
about pronoun usage,
           for a heterosexual man to understand
transgender truly, in a puritan sense
he's got to be fooled...
               otherwise it's a bit like taking
your car to the mechanic to get it fixed,
but then you go back to pick it up
     and he merely converted it to a flintstone
contraption... mate... if i wanted a bicycle
and peddle, i would have asked for one!

it would also appear that you have
to have sort of conception to begin with,
          moving the whole shabang into a lesson
in grammar? that's a bit annoying...
i like surprises... otherwise it's still just
the templar crusaders and baphomet...
   or what they call the thai surprise...

don't know, never had -
                     yep, not even with a hetrosexual girl...
that bit you are apparently invited to bleach
the hair of...

but she does make the most valid point
about the whole transgender movement -
if you can't make it work, to fool a hetrosexual man
i can't be fooled... that's why
                       most homosexuals turn to
drag, because they know they can't fake it,
so at least they can be flamboyant...
   i can't believe there's so much diversity in
that ****** category, it's a bit like
watching macaws -
  
    i was at a gay party once...
  my cousin is so he invited me and i came
and there was this guy from the previous night
at a gay nightclub that i snogged...
but you wouldn't believe why i left within
5 minutes... i was talking to a woman and she
asked me if i was homophobic / if i was o.k. with it...
em... i'm here, aren't i?
             i felt this great nausea, gave my cousin
his birthday present, and told him:
sorry, i have to leave, i feel sick.
        
   otherwise this whole topic about transgender?
if it boils down to grammar then
  there's no point to someone doing a blood great job
on themselves... which is basically beyond
the point... we know homosexuals are funnier
than hetrosexuals...
     then again i don't know what the transgender
movement actually means...
      
**** it, let's explain it using chemistry and benzene,
ortho-, meta- and trans- positioning of
                 e.g. CH3 to the benzene ring...
well i was certainly transfixed because i'd kiss
that face and wouldn't knoww what to do with
what's down south...
                                  does that point toward
what's known as the judas kiss?
                       i'm jesus was a much better looking
tran- than he's depicted as...
                
but apart from that we have metaphysics and
orthography...               and yes, benzene.

how did i start writing about this? all i wanted to point
was no. 8861... and have some sort of theory
as to how do a sudoku...
     the convergence of two identical numbers?

   e.g. 8 --> |1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9 | <-- 8

                        or that's how you zoom in
onto an incomplete square and then zoom out
     on an incomplete line...

borrowing from no. 8861

x   x   x                                       x
2   x   4                                       4
7   x   5                                       5
                                                   y
                                                   y
                                                   y
                                                   9
                                                   2
                                                   y

so the above for some reason best describes my
unerstanding of sudoku...
     to be honest this wole "poem" was only
going to be that,
     and perhaps just that - an ode to the very
authentic transgender pranksters -
            authentic... i can't stress is more:
transgender is really that begbie moment:
i understand transgender as a person capable
of fooling a hetrosexual male...
            the rest? let's just say there was an
dummy experiment happening in a chemistry lab;
to me that's the whole point of trans,
     so it would seem
that judas didn't betray jesus with a kiss...
more like a kick to the *****.

   i mean, how else not tell that story?
the most popular man in judea... and suddenly
he's not recognisable that the authorities need
                     someone to point him out with a kiss?
all the rabbis were like: where is he? where's he hiding?
can anyone recognise him?
           i can't see him for miles!
i must be ****** blind or it all suddenly turned dark
and i'm reading braille...
           as i'm sure you known they built
                     the pyramids using sticks and stones.

not everyday you get to pet a labrador
at half past 10... during the night...
he sees you, you see him 10metres apart,
you start you autistic body-space crucial
talk; you start gesticulating, blinking
to-n-fro like some mad rhetorical adventist...
and then you signature the discussion
like any sensible curator might:
you insinuate a tut-tut, but the sound you
make sorta makes onomatopoeia obsolete...
you tut-tut while ******* a lemon...
and **** me! the labrador is yours!
teary eyed and tail in a tango-likened to-and-fro...
if ever picking up a girl in a nightclub could
feel as good... it wouldn't...
the mere antic of petting a stranger's dog:
i'd be salivating had it been a rottweiler...
never mind the labrador...
           ***** ate the would-be hetero...
we call him metro these days, salmon-tinged shirts
and the ooh-la-las to my mistake: faked camp.
  but they loved the political coup without the d'état!
which is a bit like pizza without cheder dangly,
or god forbid: a gorgonzola!
    oo, tangy! jokes really do necessitate a need
for punctuation.
for what god forbid was the p added when it
merely said cou? optometric lesson no. 1:
French... optometric lesson no. 2:
English; optometric lesson no. 3:
a year in Yorkshire: endure that and you'll endure
Germanic Hitlerite checking advents of
chequers grandpa... or those eager to await Auschwitz
and least eager to don mascara within
that tattoos of rightly-awaited wrinkle...
     oh yeah, yeah: they forgot the tribalism; silly wankers.          

is that a pooch or a Gucci?

i don't know, whenever i ask that
question or see someone
famous or fashionable
i just get fidgety,
like as Chinese person
seeing a doppelgänger -
with a billion's worth of populace,
you don't look out for a
"most photographed" face..
  you look out for doppelgängers,
lookalikes...
    
still, you end up petting a stranger's labrador in
the night sometimes,
while walking to a shop for a bottle of whiskey...
tearful eyed, tail waggling...
   which is more than picking up a girl in an Essex
nightclub would ever be...
          you end up petting a dog
and saying to heterosexual counterparts:
                                                     arrivederci!
because it was **** primus with Liberace
and fooled housewives sprechen butch speck,
bound to the glutton archives...
              **** me that labrador was all i needed tonight.

"Hold me",
"no",
      "really grab me",

                     take a hold of my soul

...he cupped her ***
                                     and picked her up

christmas concert on venus by briano alliano




hi dudes and welcome to venus where we are celebrating christmas in a big way

and our first song is, santa brian is coming to town

ya better watch out ya better not cry

ya better be good cause i am telling you why

santa brian is coming to town

ya see he’s making a list and checking it twice

finding out what kids are naughty or nice

santa brian is coming to town

brian see you when he’s sleeping

he knows when your awake

gotta make everybody be bad or good

so be good for goodness sake

santa brian is coming to town

ya better party on like ya never going to stop

the beat will go bop pity bop bop bop

santa brian is coming to town

ya see my mate bing crosby, is alive in all our hearts

and then your mate brian allan does a really big ****

ya better watch out and keep the party going strong

party like the day is long

santa brian oh santa brian is coming to town boppity boo

and the next song is


         Stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause here is too **** hot


You see I believe the North Pole is
Great and has a lot of penazz oh yeah
And Robbie roe decided to host his
Own Christmas bash with a BBQ and beer oh yeah come on
And then Martin pence bought
100 cases of the most expensive
Wine money can buy
And his 12 year old son
Said what about the coke dad oh yeah
You see it"s ****** hot and you have for a drink so what about us
Kids we need coke, oh yeah
And Martin prince said to his son
That we will have enough coke
Oh yeah cute cause it's hot
And we need to cool ourselves down
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it!'s too **** hot
And on the day of Christmas Eve it hit 37 degees and we didn't feel like doing much let alone the preparation of the party so what we did is have a
5 hour dip in the swimming pool oh yeah carn Christmas spirit right out of me, oh yeah come on dudes
And the kids kept on jumping on us
Leaving us sore but at least we were having a nice dip in the pool to cool ourselves down do we can get ready for the party oh yeah mate yeah
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it's too **** hot you see you see with pretty great
Mountains  and candy cane fountains  so stop dreaming of a white Christmas csuse it's too **** hot for that too **** stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause it's too **** hot for that
The kids are playing backyard cricket yeah and the men came out
To have a hit and the ladies are in
There swearing as they cook the bird
But the ladies have an agreement
That the kids and men all do the cleaning up and talk about the sports whilst doing that
So stop dreaming of a white Christmas cause dudes
It's too **** hot too **** hot
Too **** hot for that
No white Christmases in Australia pal




       Summer weather

You see it's the summer weather
The barbecues are being cooked so well yeah
And the swimmers at the beach
are swimming between flags avoiding the sharks
And those crazy surfers as they surf with Santa
they drop off at the night club
to order a pina calada, yeah, that sure keeps us cool
You see it's summer weather
And you sun bake on the beach yeah
put on heaps of suncream, so cancer don’t strike, yeah yeah yeah
You see it's the summer weather
My poppy came out with a nice beer
And my two kids bobby and Toby had a coke
and they enjoyed that a lot
You see it takes away the hot, especially in ice
And it is great in the summer weather
Cause our drinks keeps us cool
You see it's the summer weather
The cricket and baseball is a playing
You see the players take about 5 hours to move oh yeah
And we see these players stand around forever
And in late of summer is the summer of tennis
watching the best players from around the world
and afterwards they go to the pub and celebrate
we say it's the summer weather cause those drinks keeps us cool
it’s the summer weather, the end of another year yeah
we lay the fireworks on the beach
so the lightshow, will be great
as midnight approaches we yell HAPPY NEW YEAR and then we say
what great summer weather, out champagne sure, keeps us cool


and now dudes we are going to sing away in a manger


away in a manger

no crib for a bed

the little lord buddha

l;ays down his sweet head

the stars in the bright sky

look down where he lays

the little lord buddha asleep on the hay

the cattle are lowing

buddha awakes

but the little lord buddha

no crying he makes

i love the lord buddha

as i look down from the sky

and stay by his bedside

till morning is nigh

be near me lord buddha

i ask thee to stay

close by me forever

i love thee to stay

bless all the dear children

under thy tender care

and fit us for nirvana

to live with thee there


    Summer wonderland



The beer is chilling in the esky
Abc the BBQ is nice and hot yeah
And the kids are playing with their presents oh yeah that sounds real rad
And the swimming pool is being cleaned by your father and you can't swim in it cause the pool claurine
Can **** you well
You see we are running around
Up up and down
In a summer wonderland
You see Johnny Butthead and
Micheal Kenny and Robbie roe
And Kenny gee gee
And the superman of the heavens
Brings us nice weather and that makes us feel great yeah
Walking around singing a song
Walking in a summer wonderlsnd
On the beach we all made a sand castle and buried uncle Robbie
In the sand and then as he called
Out come on ya bludgers
Give us adults a ****** hand
You see when Robbie got out of that
He jumped around the beach
I was buried in sand
And yeah mate yeah I understand
Walking along singing a song
Living in a summer wonderland




my next christmas song is joy to the world, here goes


joy to the world

the lord is come

let the christmas party shine

let everyone party on

and let heaven and nirvana sing

let heaven and nirvana sing

let heaven and nirvana and nirvana sing

joy to the world

the saviour reigns

and party right till the end

let everyone prepare him room

let all buddhas creatures grow

let buddhas creatures grow

let everyone belonging to buddha

let the spirit really grow

party on every night

   A cold for Christmas means PARTY PARTY


Oh yeah on the first day of XMAS
My coke bottle said to me
Buy a coke at the supermarket oh yeah
On the second day of  XMAS my coke bottle said to me get your cousin in the USA a present and a nice card to boot
On the third day of XMAS
My coke bottle said to me
How about inviting all out friends over for a slap up XMAS party dude
On the third day of XMAS my coke bottle said to me I need to give my
Grandmother some rioses to put in a vase on your toilet
On the fourth day of XMAS my coke bottle said to me  slam me down ya
Get ready to lift ya party spirits right till the day is long
On the fifth day of Christmas
My coke bottle said to me
How about we see the arrival of
Santa in the big Christmas parade in
Out gracious city
On the sixth day of Christmas
My coke bottle said to me
Yeah we need to give Tom and Benny a hand with the annual Christmas lights ok outside his house how delightful dude
On the seventh day of Christmas
My coke bottle said to me
Give Australia a present by booting
Abbott out oh yeseree
On the eighth day of XMAS my coke
Bottle said to me
How about you see the kids play in their Christmas play
On the ninth day of XMAS my coke bottle said to me how about a nice bit of bourbon in me to lift the family's spirit oh yeseree
On the tenth day of XMAS
My coke bottle said to me
How about we go to the nightclub
And party all night my dear old friend old pal
On the eleventh day my coke bottle gave to me a new clear head to get normal visions rather than stupid
Allan family delusions I know they help but ha ha ha
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My coke bottle gave to me
A lot of information saying coke is still a medicine don't listen to skeptics they are too much into the real world yeah on every day of Christmas my coke bottle said
No matter what ya do drink plenty of me I will make you XMAS sweet


ok dudes briano alliano says merry christmas

why doesn’t english phoneticism diacritic the non-trill r, or why doesn’t it diacritic the non-harking h? i wonder... where’s all the nation’s intelligence gone to... investing 650 billion in the ant mound that’s london? the politics blame it on the eastern european... ‘never blame it on the chinese or the arabs... they have the investments to come with boom & bust coordinates of new york’s 1920s hopes... followed up with depression.’ but oddly enough no recession in poland... perhaps because the poles have all the salt and lost all the dollars’ worth of edible mince pie (while the irish only lost ***** in hazelnut hangover forgetfulness on the titanic minding the class system of who got the lifeboats) - **** me, i’ve turned into a welsh longbows’ man with the famous V of agincourt... i’m not even welsh... but i’m assuredly an abacus: count to two sheep flights of suicide and towing two snorkel sneezes worth of bubbles before dozing off; ah... the celebrated humanity.*

that’s how it works... the r that lost the wheel and the ballerina twirl,
and the rolling-on requirements of a diacritic mark,
since all the available ones are inadequate,
and the h needs surgery to be honest...
it’s hardly a hay stack... as is the gnome eager to learn
about gnosticism and u-boats...
but did i tell you this one story that might
make you laugh?
in my post brain haemorrhage psychosis
i bought a martin & co. acoustic guitar for £600
while trading in a mandolin i bought cleaning toilets
in an edinburgh nightclub getting more than i expected
from a **** groper... sold for £25 second hand which i didn’t take
and just left it there due to honour
(who'd empty ****** in beer bottles from a toilet
getting harassed by a gay
in order to buy a £70 mandolin to play
only one song and then sell it for £25 and take the money?!)...
no, really, the english r needs diacritic markings
to distinguish it from the other european arms and arses
fidgety.
so this martin & co.’s guitar i bought
and took to my ex-girlfriends house...
which i left outside... and... oddly enough
in a guitar sheath the guitar suddenly spontaneously
decided to itch and break up...
my ex-girlfriend’s father said the cold did it...
he was always the handyman to break things...
then i started to head-**** the guitar until i managed
to weave a hole in it to sound more hollow...
so i fixed it in the end... a blind man could play it...
my ex-girlfriend’s father ended up as a nutcracker in
the mental health unit for a month while
england rejoiced when the pantomime season came along
in the local theatres - plates were thrown and dogs were walked...
like tonight... me in cognitive conversation:
‘hey stranger’s dog across the street, why you pausing
tail waggling and pavlov ready for a treat
and trying to imbue a french revolution’s cause off the leash?’
religiously you're reversing the due pundit of prayer
for the thing suffering... christianity almost feeds
the notion of prayer unto the continually suffering...
you wouldn't see prayer so easily given to
zeus ******* hera on the chair... would you?
pathetic, even morbid perverts of poverty
******* out the blood from the man...
if he deserved it he deserved it... it's not so easily
grecian polished into the realm of the undeserved...
the classical philosopher inquired: the gods exist...
but why are you sacrificing animals for their existence?
the modern philosophers inquired: the god exists...
but why are you sacrificing your emotions for their existence?
i will not sacrifice a goat on the altar...
but that was easier given the fact you're feeling
such sibyl s & m with that thing dangling on two planks of wood;
didn't i write of the malachi heresy...
the heresy that invaded monotheism and said
john smith postcode *** *** from the 21st century
will always be john smith from london from the 16th century?
malachi's heresy concerning the reincarnation of elijah
decisively spoke of the fractioned hebrew god... it spoke of 1
as 1/2, 1/3, 1/4, 1/5, 1/6, 1/7, 1/8, 1/9 etc.
i can't believe that... like hegel equated in
the book marx digested and rebelled against, i = i,
malachi you propagator & instigator of christianity and islam!
malachi! to the greeks & romans with you tied to st. paul!
(even allen ginsberg mentions this equation
in one of his poems: i am i, old father fisheye that
begat the ocean, the worm at my own ear,
the serpent turning around a tree;
kant and 0 as negation, hegel and the equals sign as being,
naturally ≠ has to imply non-being);
not building idols of forearm and knee for worship is what islam
got away with replacing them with the worship of words...
i'd hate to worship that night idol dictated by a man
who couldn't read... it's almost like a crow hunching
next to a statue of ramses ii about
where r a m s e s trivialised the six pack of the abdomen
there were the letters r a m s e s without definite form
to concern the suckling of favourite idol mantras...
idol holy word hum hum ham ahead of you...
thou shalt knot the casual reference of muhammad
in the corner shop for thou shalt not offend
the goosebumps sensation i feel when i hear the sounds...
MAKE THEE **** A HOLY **** WORDED & WORSHIPPED!
ARSES IN THE AIR GENTS... WE'RE GOING TO HAVANAH!
and so it was... the only fear of death i have
is to have lived to being aged 72... and then died;
death sooner... death... sooner!
my parents die i'm moving to the true england, up north,
to liverpool or manchester... **** the southern fairies
from dubai... i rather move to the faroe islands to be honest...
and **** a dozen orcas for a fry-up and the digestion of winter...
i rather **** time occupying the space in greenland
among the icy chinese known as eskimos;
i'd fit in among the føroyar kindreds... i love the doom & gloom
and hate the sun & tan of globalisation's adventures
with advertisements and juggling tourism
among terrorism's fictive narratives.

BRIANO ALLIANO PERFORMS AT JUPITER MOON


hi dudes and welcome to jupiter moon where i will chuck a methane smoothie all over dad

so he can stop treating me like him at home, you see last night dad used the old young dudes

tp say i am not like my mate pat anymore, no, don’t want to be a cool kid to my dad, but i can

clean my house to what i like, and nothing more, buddy, so if you treat me like dad, you must

except i want to be a poor man, because dads way will never work, he should work on betty campbell

here is cruising round with red bull


I see some sorry old soul walking around the town, with a leather jacket on and a red bull in his hand, you see he looks kind if ***** and ****** up in the head he also looks so droopy, too, he should be home in bed, he'll go into JB hifi, if they'll let him in, that is and then he'll notice his red bull can is empty, he didn't know what to do, and everyone is staring at him, he yells out really loud WHAT ARE YA LOOKIN' AT YA ******, and nearly gets into a fight, and he was going completely crazy, yes he was weird, so ran through the mall, saying, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, it's a f..n matter of life and death, if I don't get a red bull now, I swear I'll **** someone, waddaya think of that, everyone was saying as he passed thinking this man is cool, I think he's a loser cruising around with his red bull
When he got his second can open it up and it squirted everywhere, and unknown to him that half the can was lost in that squirt, so he cruised around with his can saying howdy to the chicks and saying hi dudes to the chaps, and, man he felt so cool, as he went over to JB hifi, yes his red bull can was empty again, and he yelled out ****, this time he was really ****** violent, he knocked over an old lady going to the bank and punched a yeah mate yeah kid,  (nerd) in the gut, and he was like that all the way to the red bull shop, when he got their the red bull was sold out and the store clerk said we have red eye, mother or V, and he said I don't want those, they are woosey drinks, I only drink red bull, because about 1 hour the man was taken by the police, as he was cruising it gives me wings, as I left he saw a kid who bought the last red bull, and he offered him $50 for it, and the kid said, money comes and money goes, but this red bull stays with me forever, and he got violent threatening to **** him as such and the kid said, ok dude, keep ya shirt on, give me $50 for this can and I will give it to you, they exchanged what they had and the kid went to the police station to fill in a statement saying he was threatened by a crazy red bull ******, and in around with the kids red bull, the police took him away the kid identified him as the guy, whi would convert to violence, to be cruising around, oh yeah, yes, man cruising around with his red bull, what a loser

and now here is my next song, called go to bed little shy boy, because i feel like a hooligan with my itchy feet, and i feel like i am getting kidnapped on earth because i am a tad messy, cause dad will never help me, when i do work, i feel like a lady, well, ****** oath i am a
lady to a tease, but i don’t want to get teased though, so i am a man
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
yeah, i don’t wanna be a cool kid to tease so i say to you, shut up cockbreath, here is my next song


I am a man and other men are teasing me with the kids
This is driving me crazy, I told them that I am a man
And I don't stand for this kind of juvenile behaviour
You see the kids didn't listen to that, they just laughed
And for a while each man kept on trying to be mature adults
Which we all know they're not, said for the kids to leave me alone
And then said, he isn't a target for teasing
But then after 3 days, the men said, what the flaming ****
We are going to tease this ****** yuppie
Yes, we'll tease them with the kids
The kids would teaee and when you go to the men
The men will teaee them too. They will act like all other Australians
And tease you as well, yes and they will ****** find it ****** fun
You are suffering cause you haven't got many friends

And the kids are laughing, while the ******* men say
You are a fucken big old softie,and you are now with no friends
Then you get a knife and try to stab him
And after that you punch him in the back
And then you draw out your knife and threaten to slit his throat
If he doesn't stop fucken teasing him
But they go, I am teasing you, and that's the only way I am being



You see when I go out of my bedroom after having a night of ***
The kids ate teasing me, left right and centre
And I try to handle it, but it's so ****** hard for me to do
Because they are saying things like, I am going to bash you up
And giving me a pineapple drink which was ****** wee
close to you
So if the kiddies are teasing you, and you turn to me, to get me to muck with you
I will say, I ain't mucking with you, mate, neh
I am just teas---ase---ing you with the kiddies, you aren't like us, cause when we tease you
Mate, you can't handle it, and then you say, you are spastic, and dumb as well. And I will punch you with this metal part of my leather glove, to show you who can't fucken handle teasing, you **** of the earth, fucken man
Then you go to your room, and they don't talk to you anymore
Because they are treating you like a target to tease
And that drives me crazy. And i yelled out
I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING THE MAN WHO IS GETTI NG TEASED BY MEN AND THE KIDS,  LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE
And they did, I am now a free spirit, no one can successfully taste me, never


yeah, i don’t wanna get teased by the men and kids, so i will be a hooligan oops, i am a cool person

you see, i am a polite man, hey, what did you say, you are protecting me with your hey, so i want dad to fly off, ok

have found a polite way to

I have found a polite way to say I love you even if I don't really mean it
I have found a polite way to tell you to ******* when you constantly bug me at my place of work, and that is treat him like an employee and then sack him, that'll work
I have found a polite way to tell someone that their weird without making them get upset
I have found a polite way to say to a right wing party that their policies stink by saying, you guys are a bunch of total perfectionists, who care nothing for the little guys
I have found a polite way to tell someone that they aren't the right sort of friend for me by saying, please mate, I need to broaden my horizons, so can you leave my perfect world buddy
I have found a polite way to tell my boss that I am resigning and that is I really don't want this place of employment, it's not really my cup of tea
I have found a polite way tell someone in a bar to stop bugging me by asking them nicely to please leave me alone and if that doesn't work then leave the bar saying if people aren't going to be nice to me here, I ain't going to come here
I have found a polite way to call someone a young bludger by telling them that they are as lazy as you were when you were their age
I find polite ways to say anything because I value my
Life too much to be hurt people's feelings, I am really cool, man

ya see i hear voices of people saying i have no real problems, but i wanna be famous, and i want to move to adelaide, but i don’t get positive feedback

so i feel like getting drunk and vomiting like this song

You see I love to have a few beers, or chocolate, and chips, oh yeah
This was what I really enjoy when I go to a pub at night
You see I live next door to this nightclub, called the hungry ****** horse
And I ain't cursing because I want to, man, that s what it's called
I met a man named Roger Killbert, who I had *** with and having a few
But the beers weren't doing good for Roger, they made him really sick
You see he was getting drunk and vomiting, yes, he was really sick
I don't share children with him, so why did I stay with him
You see he lost his family in the recent fires, and this is the first time he went out
And Roger was getting a sickly taste in his mouth, oh yeah
And it made him *****, he was sick,
You see it was just vomiting, so I didn't bother to take him to hospital
But I changed my mind, when te blood came out, it was really bad
So I took him to the hospital, and the hospital said he fine
But I know in my fucken ****** heart, that he was sick
Then he vomited blood, and the nurse said
To Roger to go to the waiting room
Because this isn't too important, but we do know that it was
And I said, why don't you get your *** in gear
And help my fucken friend, and from that moment
They labelled me a stubborn girl, yes I hated that a lot
And I said, yes, I'm stubborn, but I care for him, and have you got
Someone you care about, you hear about doctors like you
And I am more than just a stubborn woman
If you don't look after my friend, or at least try
I will soo your pants right off
He fucken had the nerve to say on what grounds
I am trying, to be my job, follow work protocol
Yes, I am doing fine, I earn a lot of money
And I deserve every cent, then I said you deserve squat
But I don't really care, when we left, yes I sooed his pants off
And since that ****** day, this doctor never learnt his lesson
We were moved to another hospital
You see he is getting drunk and vomiting, and he was very sick
And we are enjoying spending his money we got out of the doctor
Yes I feel ****** good

you can get your earth bodies to look at aaron clayton or aaa youtube TV, to hear everything performed by me

here is my next song


now, i will tell you where my cool kid is, at the mall mucking around
you see I go to the mall, being with young people
And I have so much fun, making young people mistakes
Like drinking all night and passing by McDonald's
For a McFeast and fries and coke
I will look like a junk food hooligan
And yes I will look so cool to the young
But I wish it was as simple as that
I want to have some fun
So I saw my two friends Eddie and Daniel
And we mucked around having fun
But it wasn't really what I wanted, man
So I told them both to *******
For 3 years after they purposely ran into me
And call me Woosey, and um, they will put the smoke in their ear
And eat McDonalds while I will try to be an adult
And every adult decision I make, they said Woosey, Woosey, Woosey
And then I got up and said you kids make me sick
But I couldn't say that, and they called me Woosey, because I was
Too Woosey to be a man, that opens up to his problems
But I felt like trying my hand trying to intimidate them
And make them leave me alone, it drives me crazy
All I want to be is a normal young dude, you know
Playing around making mistakes as well as being cool
But I have **** like you two teasing me as if your friendship is a fucken lie
You look like greedy pigs when you eat your McDonald's
And you are a ******* when you bang your head against the tapes
Yeah, dude, you look like a Woosey to me, mate
I am just doing the kind of things that Patrick did
Because what he likes to do, is similar to what I like to do
I like hard rock music, but I ain't a little young dude
Who is to scared to escape the tease
You guys are two little Wooseys, and I will say you are Wooseys
Mainly because you eat little young food like maccas
And you stick the cigarette in your hair, like a ******
I am a cool young dude, cool young dudes do art, and don't look lost
I'm not lost, I am so radical dudes, let's party
I am now on the healing process, because Daniel is the only Woosey
And that's the truth, you see


you see, how many of you guys have been called a woosey, you see i believe in loving life and here is my next song

i still wanna be young, what is wrong with that
Yes, mate, I am happy and I feel cool
I feel my body is getting younger and I want to break the adult rule
Mind you, there is nothing wrong with growing up, and being wise, so to speak
But really that's too formal, man, doing that will just send you weak
You need to do things that are exciting
Like go on an aero plane, like to Thailand or Vietnam, or even the mighty USA
You should go on long rail journeys too, yes that's a bit of a buzz
You can either choose having a sleeper, living the lap of luxury
Or roughing it up on the single ride seat
You can also grab a hot meal on the train
And you can eat it in the dining car
And you can eat it up, real fast, so you aren't away from the seat too long
I also like a bus trip, like to Batemans bay or beyond
And a trip to Sydney. Melbourne, Brisbane, Hervey bay, gold coast, and fantastic Adelaide
I go into a club and if I hear music I will either tap my foot or dance to it
Depending on the mood of the place
I also like to stay in a Hotel, and watch a bit of ****** Rupertvision
Some shows are good, and thouroughly entertained me so much
But not enough to make me give to that rich *****
I sometimes like a good trip in the country, where I climb mountains
Or just look at the views from lookouts and even the wild life
And mind you, you can have a ball in the country, cause you have no main worries
No worries at all, sonny Jim
Then you can spend the weekend in Sydney for the Carols in the domain
Where you get in early, pick a great spot, and take in the Christmas spirit
Mind you, you have to wait in line at the toilets, but it's all in good fun
And mate, if you happen to lose, dad, or even your mum
Just go to the stage, and tell them that you are a lost boy
With no directional skills, and how do I find mummy again
Of course they will help find them, but you really just wanted to get on the idiot box
And mate, just wait for the hiding you get off mum or dad
For wasting important television viewing time
There are so many things you can do, but, mate
You need to get a job, oh yeah, don't make your mum and dad pay
That can make you uncool
You see, I am a 43 year old young dude, yeah
And I will be there, till the day I join the afterlife, oh yeah
i hear voices of people saying, i ain’t going to help you little cool ki, ****** oath i am cool kid



Hi little kid, you can't find your mummy, you are a baby
Cause this is a family event, and it's quite ****** safe
Just ask a fellow kid, sure you are safe little kid
But then another kid will come, and trick me into
Looking like a phedaphile, and I won't be able to get out of it
So little kid, keep looking around for your mummy
And, yes you will see her, and I ain't helping you
Cause I am not the kids teasing Buddy
You see I want kids to let me be a true grown up
Who wants to be cool, and have a lot of fun
With other grown ups, and if kids can think of Judy being with each other
The city will look after their needs a lot better
You see, I dressed up as Santa, but I ain't helping you kid
So *******, or I will put you in the toilet
Do you want that, I don't fucken think so
I can tell you, I ain't no kid, I am an adult
Who wants to have fun and enjoy life
I don't want you kids to come up to me
And ask me to do something inappripiate
Even if it looks innocent, it ain't, I aren't that type of guy
You kids are a pack of fucken losers
And just keep yourselfs in your family groups
Cause that will suit me just fine, because
I ain't gonna he

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

then they go off to the pub and say wanna beer to you

i didn’t know what to say at first

these people do like me, yeah

they think i am cool very very cool

yeah they enjoy my company a lot

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

ya see the aussie thing

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

and a hamburger with the lot

ya see ya go to the footy and the first thing you hear is

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

then you go off to the city

to a nightclub, a man blows his cigarette smoke right in your face

you say what, are you doing, then

you say

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

you see you think your a man but you look like a hooligan

yeah, your aussie mate true blue

you look rough and ready to punch the guy next to you

and then you say

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

better being a true blue

you see they look ***** and very very rude

as they say

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

you go to the footy and then the cricket

and then off to the pub and park illegally and you get yourself a ticket

the police have arrested you, then they let you go

and the first thing you say is

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie thing to do

you see there is nothing wrong with the australian way of life

as long as they just leave me to do my own thing

i would love to have a packet of crisps

but i hear this

wanna beer wanna beer wanna beer

the aussie the aussie the aussie thing to do, MATE

when made a designated drinker
for a designated driver.

when stomaching stale pabst
and rationed sweet cider.

when frat boys fulfill
stereotypical homophobia.

when twenty grade A reds
can't last me longer than a dream.

when old man nightclub and triple kills
usurp the crown of moderation.

when you fall asleep
with so much in your blood to spill
like beans,
or milk not worthy of tears,

and i keep a loom in my heart
where i weave a string of everyone
[with myself]
and every fray in warp or weft
is mimicked by the splinters
shuttled to my hand.

PARTY ZONE WITH DAVE BROWN




DANCERS’   YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE MY ONLY SUNSHINE

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY WHEN SKIES ARE GRAY

I WILL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I LOVE YA

YOU CAN NEVER TAKE MY SUNSHINE AWAY

OH YEAH DUDES ROCK AND ROLL

GET UP ON THE DANCEFLOOR AND TOUCH YOUR IMMORTAL SOULS

YEAH, MATE YEAH, YOU’LL LIVE FOREVER

IF YOU DON’T GET A FUCKEN WHITE ****** FEATHER

YEAH YOU ARE OUR PARTY DUDE, OUR ONLY PARTY DUDE

YOU MAKE US HAPPY, FOR BEING ALIVE

YOU’LL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I CAN DRINK BEER

AS I TAKE YOUR COOL KID AWAY

DAVID’  WELCOME TO PARTY ZONE AND ON TODAY’S SHOW WE HAVE BERT ROBERTS

WITH HIS NEW SONG, TITLED YOU AND ME, DREAMING TO BE FREE, IN A CABBAGE PATCH GARDEN

AND NOW HERE IS SUE, BUDDY

SUE’  THANKS AND NOW, WE HAVE GEORGE AND HIS LITTLE JINGLE

GEORGE’  PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY, I MEAN PARTY

IF YOUR WHOLE WORLD DEPENDED ON IT, YOU ****** PARTY

FIRST YOU GO INTO A NIGHTCLUB AND IF MATES DITCHED YOU, OH YEAH

JUST LOOK AT THEM AS LOSERS ANYWAY

PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY I MEAN PARTY

PARTY IN EVERY NIGHT AND ****** DAY

YOU WILL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I ENJOY PARTYING

JUST AS LONG AS YOU CAN BE SAFE, OH ****** YEAH

SUE’   THANKS GEORGE AND HERE IS JUDY

JUDY’   I AM 23 AND I LOVE TO PARTY, DOWN

AND MAKE OLD MISERY GUTSES FROWN

AS THEY ARE TRYING TO BE COOL

YA SEE I HAVE ALL THE FELLAS AROUND ME

I AM HAVING A WOW OF A TIME

AND THEN SOME KIND SIR BOUGHT ME A DRINK

WHICH WAS SODA AND LIME

COME ON OLD MISERY GUTSES , GET OFF YOUR CHAIR

AND NOT JUST TO DO HOUSEWORK, NO MATE NO

YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE CLUB, OH YEAH

AND DRINK YOURSELF SILLY

FOR I AM THE YOUNG DUDE

I WANNA PARTY DOWN

AND MAKE YOU OLD MISERY GUTSES FROWN

AND THAT IS WHAT I DO TEASE THE OLD MISERY GUTS

IN THE OLD MAN SITTING TRYING TO LEFT ALONE

HE SHOULD GET A LIFE, PARTYING, IS THE LAW OF THE LAND

I KNOW BRIAN ALLAN IS YOUR PARTY MAN

AND SO ARE YOU SUE AND DAVID AS WELL

SUE’ THANKS JUDY AND NOW HERE’S PATRICK

PATRICK’  WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

NO WE’RE AIN’T GOING TO TAKE IT

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE

YOU SEE I HAVE THE RIGHT TO MUCK AROUND DUDE

I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO COPE WITH YOUR BULLYING DUDE

SAYING, IF YOU DON’T MUCK WITH US, YOU DON’T BELONG

I SAID, I ONLY MUCK WITH REAL PARTY DUDES

AND I GO TO THE CLUB TO EAT A LOT OF FOOD

AND DADDY SAID, YOU ARE RUDE, YA FOOL, YA FOOL

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

OUR RULES WE WILL ****** BREAK IT

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE

SUE’   THANKS PATRICK AND NOW HERE’S BRIAN


BRIAN’   DON’T MESS ME UP, OR I WILL DRAG YOU DOWN

YOU WANT TO EARN MONEY, I WILL TAKE IT FROM YOU

I GOT TO UNDERSTAND THAT POOR PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE TOO

AND AS I GET ON THE DANCEFLOOR, I DO THE BOOGALOO

AND I SAID IT’LL SCATTER MY BRAIN

AND DRIVE MY MIND TOTALLY INSANE

HEAVY METAL MUSIC, IS MY FORTAE, SO STOP TRYING TO BRING ME DOWN

SUE’  THANKS BRIAN, FOR SHOWING US THE POOR MAN’S PARTY, NOW HERE IS MARTIN

MARTIN’   WHAT A NIGHT WE ARE HASVING TONIGHT

***** AND SMOKES, ACTION A PLENTY

I WILL BUY THE WHOLE CLUB A DRINK

AND THAT WILL COST ME 5 INTO 20

MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE

I WANT TO DANCE TO 100 TUNES

I WANT TO DANCE TO 100 MORE

JUST TO BEAT 199 HOMEBODY’S WHO GO TO BED AT 7 PM

THEY SAY I AM LIKE A 2 YEAR OLD, BUT JUST TO THEM THOSE OLD MISERY GUTSES WHO LOVE TO FROWN

SUE’   OK BACK TO DAVID, THANKS MARTIN

DAVID’   HERE IS BERT ROBERTS, WITH HIS NEW SONG

BERT

I AM, ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

YEAH I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

YOU SEE MATE, I AM ONLY 23, I DESERVE ANY CHANCE TO REALLY PARTY

IF YOU CAN’T EXCEPT THAT, GO HOME AND CUDDLE YOUR PILLOW

AND READ YOUR BOOK WIND IN THE WILLOWS

I LOVE PEOPLE WHO DON’T GO TO BED, NO MATTER WHAT THEIR AGES ARE

BECAUSE GOING TO BED EARLY IS FOR WOOSEYS

YEAH ONLY WOOSEYS GO TO BED EARLY DEAR

I WAS MUGGED BY THE WICKED WITCH

CAUSE MY MATES TREATED ME LIKE A SNITCH

I HATED THAT, SO I TOOK MY REVENGE, BUT YEAH, ****** OATHE I AM THE GRINCH

I STOLE CHRISTMAS FROM THE CHRISTIANS, AND GAVE IT TO THE BUDDHISTS

CAUSE, I DID IT ONCE BEFORE, I GET A KICK FROM DOING THIS, WAY TO GO BERT, THEY SAID BACK TO ME

I AM ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

YEAH I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

YA SEE, I HAVE HAD A HARD HARD LIFE, I DESERVE TO PARTY, AND GET INTO STRIFE WITH YOUR WIFE

AND MY MUM AND DAD, WILL SAY, YOU DON’T NEED TO PARTY, WE LIKE YA

I SAID, BUT I WANNA PARTY, I WANNA BE RICH AND FAMOUS, I WANT TO HELP THE HOMELESS, MAN

THAT’LL BE SO RADICAL DUDES, RADICAL RADICAL RADICAL DUDES

IF YA CAN’T EXCEPT ME FAMOUS, KISS MY ***

I AM ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

DAVID, THANKS BERT, AND HERE IS SUE

SUE’  THANKS DAVID, ON MORE JINGLE

BERT’   IF YA HAPPY AND YA KNOW IT, HAVE A PARTY

AND BE A BIT OF A LITTLE SMART ALEK

DON’T FORGET, WE ARE BORN TO PARTY ON AAA YOUTUBE TV

IF YA HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT HAVE A PARTY

DAVID’ WELL BERT YOUR SONG WAS SO COOL

BERT’  YEAH, MATE, I REALLY LOVE LIFE, ONLY NERDS GO TO BED EARLY

NO MATTER HOW OLD THEY ARE

SUE’   YOU REALLY MEAN THAT

BERT’ YES I DO

DAVID AND SUE TOGETHER

WAY TO GO BERT, SEE YA NEXT TIME, LET’S PARTY DUDES

One is seemingly more impressed
by the less endowed or blessed
when somewhat incapacitated
and borderline inebriated;
the monstrous unconscious
disregards the likelihood
of fathomless undergarments
in other dubious departments.

Disregard the random blotches
or the involuntary discharges
instead revel in model tonsils
and almond shaped parcels
the comets of multi-notches
like a strange attraction
for disheveled carpets.

The blossoms of toxins
a libation ensemble
almost near horizontal
each movement a bent nozzle
like a prehistoric Narwhal
dancing like a jackhammer
with the elegance of a cement mixer
a broken leaking fissure
seeping vapid glamour
and indecipherable grammar.

The paraphrased clichés
and communiques of praise
like lost prophets put on display
caught in the ricochet of overplay
making an exit with the grace
of a stumbling ballet
down a poorly-lit
nightclub passageway.

Ultimately this can only lead to
the face-plant moment-of-tomorrow
the flooded memory of the-night-before
feeling utterly spent
hungover and hollow
with ill conceived consent.

The: Oh. My. God!
The: He/She is still here,
what do I say?
Hoping inexorably
they would just get up
and silently fade away.

Beer Goggles:
remember to drink sensibly,
or run the risk of
nasty STD's
or unwanted pregnancy
or breathless infidelity
or reckless insincerity
or if you're really lucky,
just another
session in therapy.

There's something tragic about Brisbane; the city speaks of an older more Romantic time, though the people speak of a newer, modern; more disposable age. It seemingly looks at you with a lost lovers eyes.

Though the city still retains some of its antique glamour; take a stroll down any street in the center and around you will be found the remnants of that age.
Victorian Red-bricks dot the city like proud sentinels, keeping watch over the ever expanding invasion of its contemporary neighbours.
What tales would these monolithic madmen tell is if only we had the ears to listen, who's feet did once trample up the now year-stained wooden stairs, who lived and died and loved and uttered curses and birthed within those walls...and what tales would they have to tell if we only listened?

Ah, gentle reader, you see how your mind wanders at the mention of these thoughts?
The City certainly has its landmarks: the Clock tower of Town Hall, over looking the new modern space of "The Deck" in King George Square, the facade of Grand central station still retaining its grandeur and majesty; now turned into theme bars and a nightclub strip. The old houses littering West End and the strip of red bricks running like a sepia toned river up Elizabeth Street. And of course the dotted remnants of Old City Life being ever encroached upon in the center of the City's smoke filled heart.

The most curious of these is the impression wrought in plaster and cement, white over red, of a window in the city center, with a set of stairs leading up to a place that no longer exists; 50 feet in the air.
Whenever I gaze up at that window, that reminder of the past, I cannot help but wondre who would be staring down at us, on this date in the last century.

"Suffer them not" I wish to say, "for these people are of a different age, with different Gods and values than you."

Suffer them not, ignore their slings, suffer them not.

I love Brisbane.

It's mish-mash of centuries, its people, the tales of its unwritten past, it seems as if the city exudes both a sense of joy and one of unutterable melancholy.

I'm on the train, homebound now to my modern house in the ultra-modern Gold Coast. This is quite depressing. The freedom, the movement, the chance, the ebb and flow of the people soaked tide of the city is leaving fast behind me as this electric trap with seats barrels under facades and tunnels, with enormous neon snakes glittering down from the peaks of modern and ancient towers and we find them reflected in the winding river like innumerable fireflies...dying and twisting and being reborn in the soft moonlight.

South Brisbane Station.
An immortal Victorian construct, still surviving to this day. The same architecture, the same route...different paint though. This Industrial Relic is overlooked by the shining modern whirlpool of THE EYE, a gigantic Ferris wheel giving you the chance to see the city by air, to one side; and a multicoloured, four story glowing monument to the hairdresser franchise god Stefan on the other...which I dub "Stefan's Pintle".

It's garish as hell.

Passing through the night the train goes ever on, powered incessantly by the ticket payers seemingly endless dollar supply.

There's a strange transition from City to Coast, the outerlying towns left in the dust and wake of one and unsure whether they belong to the other. Places such as Kuraby, Banoon, Runcorn, Altandi, Logan and Eden's Landing.

Yet the train ponders on into the night, as it's denizens relinquish themselves to its discretion and desires.
Yes; the train ponders on into the night...

We slowly pass through Woodridge, one of those last bastions of civilisation, neither here nor there. A glittering town trying desperately to be a city. They have a McDonalds. Yay. These places always scare me, and confuse me.
What are they like? Their people? I guess I'll never know, i've never stayed in one long enough to realize.

Welcome to Loganlea, this is a strange place...the funniest thing about it is the fact that it IS a hole. Yet the sign into it shows a shining beach with palm trees and boldly proclaims "WELCOME TO LOGANLEA".
As you draw closer you realize it's pock marked with bullet holes and rust stains.

A train whizzes past, and we find ourselves reflected in its windows, our reality traveling one way; our ghosts another.
Into the long, pale night, coloured by the stars of a thousand distant streetlights. Like a million tiny man made suns; created to fend of the darkness and keep our fears at bay. We truely live in the age of endless day.

The melancholy of the city is far behind now, it's streets, its smells, its people all gone. As we are lost in the brightness of the endless day and the night grows ever long, touching those distant, far between places with its natural, velvet splendour, running its hand down the cheek of time. For there will always be a night, even when we create days, and the city will always be melancholy, and the coast will always be a glittering sequin on the dress of a cheap, soulless *****.

I love Brisbane.

no disco or nightclub
rattles out its beat here

you have to improvise
get inventive

depending on how
the day is going

the night will usually
take care of itself

Spending the last day with Maegan Finn,*
who, turns out, prefers to be called Mae

11:35 p.m.

I burn the popcorn. Just the pieces against the bag's underbelly.
Like a nightclub bouncer, I decide which pieces to let inside
a white, ancient bowl. One, on which, a former roommate scrawled
"THIS MACHINE KILLS MUNCHIES" upon its side in red, permanent ink.
I never said the night would be

perfect. But when I walk into my bedroom carrying the snack fiasco,
I know Ms. Maegan Finn doesn't mind. Something between her vine-framed,
honey irises and my gaze, some mischievous energy, causes her to lower
her head. She allows a smile. She's sitting on my twin-sized bed. Her back to a pillow
to the

wall. An empty pillow beside her waits for me. With one hand she moves her hot chocolate
to the side, with the other she lifts my calico comforter for me to climb under. I never
said the night would be

perfect. But I know Ms. Maegan Finn doesn't mind. Because when I say, "I'm sorry. I didn't really plan for this," nervous laugh, "this is the worst final meal of all-time. You can leave if you want.
You don't have to go down with the ship."

She responds, "I don't mind," raises an eyebrow as she reads the bowl. Dismisses it. And grabs a handful of popcorn. On the television, a white-haired man with heavy jowls and tree bark wrinkles begins to talk.

...planet Earth will be recycled. The universe recycled.

"So, when does this guy think the world will end?" I ask.

"Midnight."

"Chris said two."

"Two p.m.? Like today? Like already past?"

"Yeah."

Maegan shakes her head,"Stupid *******."

11:40 p.m.

"So, if I hadn't botched dinner, what would you have chosen for your last meal?"

"Well, Joshy-poo, I'd have to say popcorn and hot chocolate."

"Seriously."

"It's salty. It's sweet. The temperatures compliment each other.
It shouldn't work, but it does. If the world wasn't ending,
I'd suggest you open a restaurant."

"C'mon. What would your last meal be?"

...with friends. Cling to your loved ones as the final minutes pass by.
The world becomes perfect. The calendar pages turn no...

"Do you remember Waffle Crisp?" she breaks gently.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Hold on."

"Any meal on the planet. Anything! And you choose-"

"Waffle Crisp."

"Oh, that terrible commercial with the grannies in disguise."

"Grannies and all," staring at the reflective surface of the hot chocolate,
she begins talking in distant pieces like reading off a teleprompter,
"Waffle            Crisp            reminds

me           of           my

              dad."

"I see."

A commercial is on for ******. I never said the night would be

perfect.

...picking the right moment is easy with...

"Why do you think of your dad?"

Maegan releases a deep exhale/tension-laugh.

"I don't know. I mean, I

guess it's because every morning -- well, before my parents got divorced --
he'd come down the stairs, mess up my hair -- God, I'd get so mad --, and
he'd say,
'Mae, may the world learn from your perfection today.'
He'd kiss my forehead. I'd eat Waffle Crisp. I remember the smell -- the shapes."

11:51 p.m.

...less than ten minutes. Go outside with your families
look to the

heavens...

"How's the world supposed to end? Has he said?" Maegan asks.

With a finger raised, I finish chewing my popcorn.

"The planets are aligning right?"

"Yeah, I've heard that. I've heard the Mayans just
ended their calendars on the

date. But I don't know how either of those scenarios make the world end, though."

"Exploding sun?"

"Maybe an asteroid?"

"Could be," I say.

Ms. Maegan Finn rests her head on my shoulder. "You should ask another question."

"Um, okay."

...Security Systems. Are your children safe?

"I got one," I grab the remote and turn down the television. "What is something you haven't told

anyone? One secret that otherwise would die with you."

"I hate the name Maegan."

"Why?"

"It's a terrible name."

"Is not."

"It is too. First off, not only did my parents indulge the cruelty of switching the 'a' and 'e',

but

then they went ahead and gave me the most common girl's name on the planet.
I don't stand out until I say, 'Excuse me, you misspelled my name.' It's not funny.
Hell, even when I say that, their usual response is, 'No, I didn't misspell your name.'
Because they'd know."  Flustered, Maegan puts the white, ancient bowl of popcorn on the ground. "And get this away from me."

"What would you rather be called?"

"Mae. Just Mae. I always liked it."

"Alright, Ms. Mae."

...hoisted unto judgement. Some without absolution...

"What about you, Mr. Josh? What's your secret?"

I take a sip of hot chocolate. I look at the bare wall behind the television, and wish I had
decorated it, but I

never did. The paintings are even in my closet. They just need to be put up.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you, Mae."

Mae smiles wide. Puts her hand on my shoulder, "Your'e joking right?"

"Nope."

"That's a bold secret to tell," she laughs.

"Not the reaction I was expecting."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just -- what happens tomorrow? When I have to see you again."

"I'm betting on the exploding sun."

"Or the asteroid."

"Or the asteroid."

11:59 p.m.

...a matter of seconds until we are cast like dice into the blackness of...

Mae takes my hot chocolate. Places the porcelain cups on the carpeted floor. With a "c'mere" she peels me off the pillow, off the wall. Moves the pillow to the head of the bed. She guides my body until I'm lying down. Straddling me, she leans down. Traces my shoulder blades, then softly latches on to them. She leans further.

...9, 8, 7...*

A kiss.

A long kiss. The weight transfers from my body into her, then is carried toward the ceiling by some mischievous energy. At the end of the world, Ms. Mae Finn kisses me. Kisses me despite popcorn. Despite hot chocolate. Despite love confessed too soon. Just when I never want that minute to end, it




ends.



12:00 a.m.
          
               But a new minute begins.

"That was perfect," Mae says.

Tip toe in
Stilletoes I
Make my way
To De Bananenbar to
Buy where I
Was sold

~

I thought I should explain this poem a little bit. De Bananenbar is a nightclub in the red light district in Amsterdam, hence "to buy where I was sold" is talking about prostitution, which I think should be legal everywhere. If someone wants to sell their body to someone they should be able to. If you don't like it I don't care.

.university was such a bad idea... i'm starting to think... isn't university the place where only women and rapists are admission worthy?! forget the men... you're on your own!

              gorgeous lisp...
Fionna
from Fraserburgh...
worked in
a nightclub to
pay for a mandolin,
and play her maggie may...
outside her window...
her sweetness imbue of
honey and the letter G
stumbling into a "stutter"....
and?
one detail...
she loved
queen's innuendo...
the ooh ooh bit
and the otherwise
Spanish rodrigo
in-between composer...
i left Edinburgh...
because my heart was
not into it...
  my eyes were...
but in my heart...
    i was not standing on
an island, but an iceberg...
       too many English
private school educatde kids...
too much interconnected
meritocracy bargains...
said via grandfather earned
ditto position through
the connectivity of his, father's
father...
   no...
              i won't have that
*******... hanging before
me like a carrot, while
i play the donkey...
  sorry... no...
    shouldn't have lied
about your mother being your sister,
and your grandmother being
your mother...
     then?!
Leningrad would
have made sense!
thankfully?
        it still doesn't!
and doubly thankful for it
that i am, in saying:
it, never, will!

“If you or someone you know
Has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s . . . ”
You can tell a great deal about UNLV,
My Vegas morning, easy listening
Radio station of choice,
When I first sit down,
Sit down to work in the morning,
One can surmise from the
Target demographics of so dire,
Such sober pronunciamentos, by
DJ Mueller, 91.5 The Source»
Live from UNLV/KUNV
Las Vegas kunv.org/KUNV
The Jazz Lounge with
Frank Mueller, Thursday, 7:00 am-11:00 am.
So don’t say I never
****** your ****--metaphorically speaking—
Herr Mueller, my good friend.
And while we’re on
The subject: WORK.
They never tell you that
Writing is such ******* hard work,
Which explains my need to **** up &
Lubricate the mechanism,
Before I start.
But I digress.

Just in case you haven’t noticed,
In case you had not been taking heed, CNN:
There’s an exciting new, radical ******,
Left-wing personage & presence
Making a play for the main room,
Center stage, center ring
Global Palace & Amphitheater.
I refer, of course to
Pope Francis:
Media-savvy, media mensch,
Crafting his own image,
Playing to the masses,
Choosing the namesake--
Francesco—right outta the gate,
Zip outta some Franco Zeffirelli
“Brother Sun, Sister Moon,”
Saint Francis di Assisi,
Talent show.
Born Jorge Mario Bergoglio,
In Buenos Aires, Argentina,
He worked briefly as a
Chemical technician
(Read: “bomb maker”)
& Nightclub bouncer
(Read: “sadist”)
Before resuming
Seminary studies, 1969.
(Tribute PSA: October 29, 1969: Happy 40th Birthday to a Radical Idea! Bill Duvall, SRI computer room. Late 1960s, the evening of October 29, 1969 the first data travelled between two nodes of the ARPANET, a key ancestor of the Internet.)
Pope Francis is a master at technology,
As any aspiring Global Wizard must be.
He has a special web site:
“Papal Bulls & Other *******.” Palabras del Papa Francisco - News.va www.news.va/es/source/vatican-va Translate this page PAPA FRANCISCO. AUDIENCIA GENERAL Miércoles 13 de mayo de 2015. [Multimedia]. Queridos . . .

Francis: Pope in Rome,
Signing international treaties again.
The Holy See himself—that
Wacky Argentinian--
One of many Lefty Cardinals,
Pulls off upset ordination in
Vatican City, God’s little 110 acres,
Our world’s smallest city & sovereign state,
Patrolled by a wacky-striped
Swiss Wackenhut Swat Team,
The Vatican: former playground for Nero,
**** Command Central for Caligula,
Construct of Mussolini’s $92 million
(More than $1 billion in today’s
Ever more worthless,
Ever more inflation soaring money!)
Lateran hush money,
Vatican monopoly money,
Seed money for colonial expansion,
Il Duce signing on behalf of
King Victor Emmanuel III,
Remembered today
Mainly for his short stature, &
Exile to Alexandria, Egypt,
Where he died and was buried.
“Vic the Man,” as he was known
Here in the Principality of Monaco,
“Vic the Man in Monte Carlo.”
But I digress.

Just the other day, Pope Francis
Signed another international treaty,
Recognizing Palestinian statehood,
Generating praise from Palestinians, &
Criticism from Israelis, who said:
“The move does not advance peace efforts.”
“Even this Philo-Semitic pope,
This pope who cares about the Jews,
Even he doesn’t get it,” said
David Horovitz, Editor,
The Times of Israel,
Which is what one would expect from
The guy who wrote the book:
A Little Too Close to God,
Still Life with Bombers:
Israel in the Age of Terrorism . . .

It is tempting to ignore the
Sheer ego, the colossal megalomania
That is Jorge Mario Bergoglio,
Truly a personage of great moral suasion,
Whether he’s cleaning the feet of the homeless,
Dialing up strangers for late-night chats or
Convincing the self-described atheist,
Raúl Castro to give Catholicism a second look . . .
This pope who took the name of a
Nature-loving pauper,
This Pope in Rome,
Francis:  Transformative,
Revolutionary gust.
Pontiff, from Latin: “a bridge,”
Spanning the God-Man divide.
We are talking about a brotherhood,
That survived both Borgia & Medici,
And other assorted kink-fests for centuries.
Just what bizarre peccadillo
Required the resignation of
Benedict XVI, in itself, a
2,000-year first?
Francis:  the first Jesuit Pope.
Francis: the first Pope from America.
Francis: “The circumstances surrounding
Benedict's decision to step down
Will titillate scholars and the journalists alike,
For many years to come,
Given his resignation came so soon
After the “VATI-LEAKS” revelations:
Vatican bank corruption,
Pederast-priest cover-ups, &
Other ignominious fiascos
Requiring significant damage control.

One would think that an institution
With their own royal observatory,
The Papal See’s inter-galactic,
Night-vision telescope, Mount Graham,
Southeast of Tucson, Arizona,
Could steer clear of faulty stars.

whether it be your
local shop
or the park across the road,
a nightclub
or a library, or
the school where
your children go

we're here

the bathroom,
the classroom,
the living room and kitchen,
marching downtown
with a rainbow parade
or hidden
in the closet

we're here

we've been here
forever
did you know that
ancient Greece
was a homonormative society?
we've been alive,
just trying to live our lives

we're here

no less human,
no less susceptible
to hurt or pain
or love;
we love in bright, bright colours
and we love freely
never bound by binaries or convention

we're here

you'll never be rid of us
as we are not
a disease
to be cured.
all we want to do
is be as free to love
as you.

we're here

we aren't going anywhere

Growing up in Torrance—
A suburb of L.A.—
Billy was a SoCal
Dreamer all the way.
He loved sunny beaches
And smooth mountain slopes.
A day without the sunshine
Would always dash his hopes.
Not the greatest student,
He wasn’t good with books.
Luckily, he quickly learned
To get by on his looks.
 
He never went to college;
School was not his style.
Modeling, he thought,
Might be more worthwhile.
Sure, he was good-looking
And knew he could excel.
But like many others,
He didn’t do so well.
Deciding on a path
Requiring looks and charm,
He felt that entertaining ladies
Couldn't cause much harm.
 
(Chorus)
The king of the ******* circuit—
The lord of the nightclub scene—
In New York and California
And places in between
Will walk into a room
And all the people’s eyes
Look in his direction—
Both the ladies’ and the guys’.
Although he’s buff and handsome,
He tends to put on airs.
Despite the six-pack down below,
There’s not a lot upstairs.
 
Being a male stripper
Could get mighty old.
Removing all those clothes,
Doesn’t one get cold?
But Billy loved his lifestyle
And took it on the road.
He even tried “escorting”
Whenever business slowed.
All across the country
You’d hear the ladies scream.
When Billy walked out on the stage,
You could feel the steam.
 
Pumping iron by day
And stripping after dark
To Billy was exciting—
A walk in the park.
It must take some talent
To strip before the lights.
But his knock-out body
Helped him reach the heights.
You wonder, Was he happy?
It’s really hard to tell.
All we know is that for years
He raised a lot of hell.
 
So what does Billy do now?
Ask at clubs and bars.
Some say he sells insurance;
Others say used cars.
Someone said she saw him
Last month near Chapel Hill,
Sitting on a bar stool
At a bar and grill,
Sweet-talkin’ the ladies
And trying to hold fast
To all the vivid memories
Of his glorious past.
 
(Chorus)
The king of the ******* circuit—
The lord of the nightclub scene—
In New York and California
And places in between
Will walk into a room
And all the people’s eyes
Look in his direction—
Both the ladies’ and the guys’.
Although he’s buff and handsome,
He tends to put on airs.
Despite the six-pack down below,
There’s not a lot upstairs.

- by Bob B

oh right... i thought i was on a ****** nod for a minute,
what, a, blank...

she thought i looked like Jim Morrison when met,
i worked out, played squash,
a really healthy example of zoology -
is that, the logic of caged animals?
a bit like the logic of soulless animals
with a god, soulless animals without one,
and the other two 90° variations of the square?
they're inspereble (blah) / momentary
dyslexia, naturally with English - inseparable,
pairing, ah! but isn't much of modern
psychology a bit like zoology? i mean the cages,
the untested theories, stemming from
roots of Jungian and Freudian *******?
Edward Hopper sketched himself with the joke
on visual inferences from these two
molesters of fair game - Michael Myers
just walked in and smashed their heads in...
win win scenario... but psychology is very
much like zoology - keeping a caged animal,
reverse baby onomatopoeia from what the adults
equate mama with... ego... that's their childishness,
babies say *mama adults say ego,
as if no dead Latin bureaucrat is listening
with a chisel in hand to double-fold missing
the concept of handwriting - it wasn't alive
back when it was all on papyrus, or stone,
it had a brief existence in aristocratic circles
when we wrote with quills and connected pretty well,
we soared with geese! we soared with swans!
we perched on trees like jerky crows!
god, it was beautiful, but then digital came in,
newspaper print, we felt claustrophobic connecting
letters, like jigsaw puzzles put together
some things didn't connect - unless it was a case
of a familial affair, ******, less game of hide & seek
and more a game of lookalike...
we even had perfumed paper back then...
right now you read a newspaper for too long
and you're ready to stamp your fingerprint in a police
station... and i thought money was *****,
newspapers are second-best... ***** currency of
the omni-literate populace - starving journalists
who parasitically feed of of celeb culture,
provided with excess stimulation by paparazzi
nudes... but zoology and psychology are alike,
cages in both cases, restrictions: either no god
or no soul, either some body or nobody -
trained cognitive monkey... does a fanciful trick
sometimes: yep, gets up onto a table in a nightclub
and does a cancan interpretation of the goose step
(stechschritt - all those in favour of the ministry
of simply silly get drowned in the Thames)
as if jogging on a treadmill, in one place -
the mantis in a game of chess - the mantis in a game of chess -
a game kings believed having the earliest known
satellite image from way way above - the best
way of looking at the abstraction of insects.
still, zoology is very much psychology, or vice versa,
cages and prior theories with their guillotines of
Aztec like sacrifice - i told you! those pyramids were
built for capital punishment, excess on architectural side
of what a scaffold could look like, fear inducers,
deterrents, but at least not Egyptian tombs!
and how many bars in this cage of yours can you can
with psychology: the logic of having soul, in practice
the logic of not having a soul, i.e. treatment of thinking -
the behavioural study of a man sitting in silence -
after an hour he folds a leg over the other and continues
sitting in silence - psst... it's called listening therapy...
or talk... 3 hours pass some rain falls... neither patient
or the psychiatrists is any wiser... but the latter gets paid,
the former just looks like a **** clown without makeup.
so she hooked up and wanted to start a band...
she had keyboards in mind... that was already a bad idea...
she thought i was some sort of version of Jim Morrison...
well, if i was, or if i am... i'm doing this thing solo.

What a relief to set aside
my mechanical pencil
and write with you,
O Ballpoint Pen
found at the bottom of my pen box.

On your side is engraved
“Samy’s Camera.”
Did I walk out with you by accident?
or was it on purpose,
beguiled by your sleek, cool body
as you nestled into my hand
and I clasped you tight
likw my boyfriend in a steamy nightclub
dancing slow to Moon River.

Was I writing a check for
a roll of Kodak film,
ASA 400?
Or was it more recent?
Purchasing a digital mini-camera
to carry in my purse?
Before cellphones took selfies so flawlessly
that I tucked my Sony
into the dresser drawer
behind my underwear.
It lies abandoned
soon to be joined by all my
mechanical pencils.

You, my Pen, are my reliable companion
who will record lists for me:
To Do lists
Shopping lists
Birthday lists
Laundry lists.
You will record why my lover
doesn't want me anymore, but
I will tear up that scrap of paper
as soon as the ink has dried like blood,
that heartless man,
unworthy of the ink I waste on him.

O beautiful Pen,
sleek as the fur on a cat,
smooth as a gin and tonic,
solid as his hand on my breast.
for merely.

I hereby relinquish my mechanical pencil,
whose lead keeps shattering.
But you, dear Ballpoint Pen, I can press hard.
And how much more beautiful
with you
are the curves of my words.