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THE CANBERRA CROWD ARE A PACK OF YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS



YOU SEE, I DISAGREE WITH ARGUING WITH PARENTS

I ALSO FEEL MY HOOLIGAN CREEPING INTO MY TOES

I AM A FAMILY PERSON, WHO AIN’T SHY

I DON’T WANT TO BE TOLD TO RELAX BY A STUPID NERD

I DON’T **** PEOPLE OFF, NERDS **** PEOPLE OFF

AND I AIN’T A NERD, YOU SEE, TODAY I WAS FUNNY

COME ON SAY, I LIKE YOU BRIAN YOUR FUNNY, SAY THAT MATE

I HATE DAD’S VOICE IN MY HEAD, TREATING ME LIKE A SHYPERSON

BUT I WAS SHY WHEN I WAS YOUNG,

BUT I LIKE TO BE CALLED A FAMILY PERSON

YOU SEE, I SEE DAD, SAYING I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO DO THIS

I WAS A BIT OF A HOOLIGAN WHEN I WAS YOUNG

BUT I AM REFORMED, I STILL LIKE FISH AND CHIPS

I HATE VOICES TRYING TO MAKE YELL ON THE ROADSIDE

IU NEVER LIKED DOING THAT

IT’S HARD, TO BE TREATED LIKE  A LITTLE SHY BOY

BY THE GROUPS YOUR WITH AND YOUR VOICES

IT’LL BE FUN TO MEET GREAME THORNE’S FAMILY

IT’S FUN TO LIVE IN A WORLD, THAT THE MENTALLY ILL

ARE MY FRIENDS

I KNOW HE’S MY FATHER, BUT I HATE IT, NO MATTER HOW MANY PEOPLE

SAYING DAD WAS INSPIRATIONAL, YEAH, BUT HE SEEMED TO LIKE TEASING ME

WITH THE REALLY PERFECT PEOPLE, I LIKE DAD, AND I WISH PATRICK WOULD

TELL ME, LIKE BE HIS MATE AGAIN

YOU SEE, JUST BECAUSE I AM 45, DOESN’T MEAN I SHOULD GET PUSHED DOWN

BY ******* DAD, HE WAS *******, YEAH, DAD, THE SMART APPROACH

WOULD TEASE LIKE A FAMILY PERSON, CAUSE DAD’S WAY WILL NEVER EVER WORK

HE TRIED TO CARE FOR ME, BUT, IN THE WRONG WAY

I WOULD’VE LOVED IF DAD WAS ONE OF THOSE COOL FATHERS

WHO THINKS SITTING IN THE MIDDLE OF A 333 LONG BENDY BUS IS COOL

I FEEL THAT DAD WAS TRYING TO AVIOID GETTING ROBBED

BUT I HATED DAD DOING THE STUPID FIGHTING CALLING ME FOOL AND COWARD

DAD IS NOW ELIZABETH ANN CAMPBELL,

HERE IS A THOUGHT, TEASE ME THROUGH CYBER SPACE, AND CHANGE KIDS WAY OF THINKING

I LIKED PATRICK BACK THEN, BETTER THAN DAD, I WAS LETTING MY BROTHER MOVE ON

THE REASON WHY I HAD MY PARENTS OVER FOR XMAS PARTY DINNER

WAS BECAUSE I LOVE PARTIES, AND NOBODY BESIDES ONE MATE WANTED TO COME TO MY HOUSE

SO I LOOKED LIKE A CULE KID, YA KNOW, DAD HELPED ME LIKE THAT, I DON’T NEED TOUGHENING UP

YOU CAN’T STOP FIGHTING WITH FIGHTS, IF DAD WANTS TO SAY I AM NOT YA DADDY

SAY IT THROUGH ELIZABETH ANN CAMPBELL

AND I PARTY RIGHT TO THE END OF THE WORLD

I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A BIG GIRL, GET THESE VOICES OUT OF MY FUCKEN HEAD

I AM A FAMILY PERSON, PLEASE I WOULDN’T MIND HAVING KIDS BUT I ACCEPT THAT, I AM NOT LIKE LYLE

I WANT TO HAVE YOUTUBE COMPANIONS CAUSE I HATE PATRICK TELLING ME BE A KOOMARRI TO MUCK AROUND WITH

I KNOW THEY ARE TREATING ME NORMALLY BUT I BELIEVE MY ITCHY FEET, IS MY HOOLIGAN LEAVING MY BODY

IT’S NOT MY LITTLE YOUNG DUDE

I DON’T WANT TO FIX MYSELF UP WITH MY PARENTS

CAUSE, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A HOOLIGAN, NO MATTER

YA SEE, FROM DEEP WITHIN, THERE IS A LITTLE SHY BOY, THAT NEEDS TO GET OUT

YOU SEE, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A BIG GIRL, A SHYPERSON, SO TO SPEAK

YA SEE, EVERY ITCH, IS MY HOOLIGAN, ANYONE WHO GETS ITCHY INFECTION’S LIKE MY ITCHY INFECTIONS

IT MEANS YOU EITHER HAVE AN EVIL PAST IN THIS LIFE, AND AN EVIL PREVIOUS LIFE

EVERYONE HAS A HOOLIGAN TRAPPED INSIDE THEM

BUT I BELIEVE YOU HAVE TO REALLY ITCH TO GET RID OF IT

YA SEE, I LOVE LIFE, AND I LOVE TO PARTY IN LIFE, I WISH DAD AND PATRICK WOULD GET OUT OF MY HEAD

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ATTEMPTING TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT, I DO SLEEP, ON THE CHAIR

BUT DAD WANTS TO BRING MY BIG MAN INTO ACTION, BECAUSE HE WORRIES LIKE A COTTON WOOL ADULT

THAT IS WHY, I TOLD HIM I WAS TEASING HIM, I TEASED HIM BY SAYING

YOU SHOULD SMOKE AGAIN DAD, I AM PATRICK DUNBAR AND GREAME THORNE

AND I REMEMBER, BEING ALBERT WALDRON, AND THAT HOTEL, WAS THE BEST HOTEL IN THE LAND

I AM HEARING MY BULLY WITH MY BROTHER, AS I AM TYPING THIS STORY,I AM HEARING MYSELF THROUGH PATRICK

YOU SEE, I HATED DAD, BUT I GREW TO LIKE HIM, BUT HE SEEMED TO TAKE THAT ALL AWAY

REALLY, NOBODY CAN SEND BRIAN ALLAN TO BED, JUST BECAUSE

YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND I WALKED AROUND FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

I LIKED THAT THEN, BUT NOW I MUST GROW UP INTO A PARTY LOVING MAN

A FUN LOVING GUY TO BOOT

I AM A FUN LOVING GUY, AND THEN EVERYONE SAID, *******, I SAID, I HAVE THE RIGHT TO MUCK AROUND

DAD IS LOOKING OUT FOR ME, BUT HE IS FUCKEN COTTON WOOLING, I HATE WHEN PATRICK IN MY HEAD BE’S A FATHER FIGURE TO SAY I’M NOT YA DADDY

THAT IS NOT NICE AT ALL
Kathleen Nov 2010
I'm taking a bath.
Scrubbing it off of me, if you wanted to know.
The dirt you left there.
The crevices crust-laden with guilt
and all that good stuff.

Steel-wooling it away from me.
To cleanse the deeper parts of me.
To scrape off every layer of dirt
you've encased me in.

'Til I see skin again.
The pinky swollen skin of mine,
that I lost when you buried me in soot and ash.
When you tarred and feathered me.
When you doused me in gasoline and set me ablaze.
When you mocked me by pouring flour over my head.

Once I've stopped scalding myself to sting away your leftovers.
Once I've ridden myself of every speck of you.
Then we can discuss-
if I 'had a good time'.
creative commons
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2020
buying three litres of jack daniels...
at... £20 a a litre -
which is £12 short from the original
selling price...
  (so i've saved a total of
£36... which, at the current selling
price is... £4 short
of two bottles for free)...

   that i would love to believe in
dr. strangelove - and a very real fear &
potential of an atom bomb...

the spectacle of awer...
        how the 20th century could be
a casper -
             but not now...
   i could ask for a blissful sentence of
an asylum - but this current: society
of sociopaths...

  i just can't: beside the don't...
        that there is some fledgling will:
otherwise the negation of want...

well yes... bourbon is whiskey with
some maple syrup...
        i get it now...
                   maybe flashing a u-boat
on the drive...
perhaps taking time to cling
to a bucket list and parachute ****-naked...
buy and subsequently heave
20 years for petting a labrador...

there was a trickling uncertainty
when jerking off and there was....
shyla stylez...
                 born 1982... oh...
found unresponsive in her bed by
her mother... aged 35... in 2017...

it's such a pity to have such a...
monstrous high-blood pressure in
the constraints of the phallus...
i forget the puritan...
if i get away with pursuing
the orthodox guillotine
of a missing *******...
     then again:
     it would be impossible to *******
without any *******...
i guess i'm playing the joker hand...
on the toilet...
**** like a tease...
mrs. no. 1 & 2... subsequently no. 3...
it's not spectacular...
no satans are being deployed
into the air... no scented candles...

it's like a spectacle of inverting
the time it would take for wood to rot...
or ****** on mushy peas...

      oh sure... i could write of
the blue pill platonism...
                   but it's so impossible
to lie... let alone believe in lies self-generated...
from the hiding place
of the obscure... when...
people behaved like people...
had their lives and had their...
           soul crushing competitive streaks...
it was paradise to scribble...

now is no time to come to the fore...
could i encompass staging
a transcendence...
or merely this: a scuttling into the shadow...
not out of fear...
but for the sheer desire to spectate...
i mean: this requires an audience
this... this world this... whatever "this"
actually is...

the neighbour put up a new fence...
i've had over half a year of work
in perfecting the garden...
       there was putting up the pergola
with a wisteria
weaving: now blooming with tender
bishop hues...
    i'm still working on digging
an arcane concept of a trench
and flooding it self-made:
3 parts sand 1 part cement...
so the weeds from my neighbour's
garden do not sprout from beneath
the ornamental bark i laid...

if i were some evil genius:
tinged with a psychology of a soviet
past... or a mandarin current -
i wouldn't wish this militarised democracy
upon anyone...
          
           the original fear:
the oppenheimer crucible is beside
the ******* point...
                    when there was an awe inspiring
fear... a citation from the upanishads:
now i have become death...
who is to be cited in the current
climate of events...
are we experiencing a blitzkrieg
of anger from the elements...

           could it be possible that even
the gods are stricken with
a wake of the titans -
and their first riddled tier 0:
elemental forebears...

              coming to the cauldron...
if i were an evil genius:
i would want to work in the confines
of staging coups with atom bombs...
a period of paranoia and a history
that could make... 50 years a breezy
postcard nonchalance...
i'd pride myself on a parody of
a marathon... by turning up...
with 10 years of experience as a...
postman...

                   this whirling and sedating
prospect of tamed angers and
angered hopes... and docile happiness:
in the plural -nesses
       having exacted a limbo score
of stones stashed in socks...
and then flickering... like an imitation
slingshot...

     the classical period of hebrews writing
a history that would later become
incorporated into the labyrinth of the gentiles...
that London once aspired to
be a reinvention of Jerusalem...
in the 19th century's zenith...

                         that Paris transcended this
ambition...
                      what a mystery...
this new club of intellectuals...
when one tunes in to at least
a bare minimum of 2 hours in the morning
of BBC radio 3...
by comparison i tune into classic.fm
and... the same old... the same mundane...
repetition jargon...
carl orff's o fortuna...

there's no joke: it's just a platitude of
bad taste... it's bad because it's
pop repetitive... pop repetitive:
which is saying much... about classical music
being staged to a palette...

people are supposed to possess limbs...
apparently...
but i doubt that...
one can dislike the piquancy of blue cheese...
or beef honeycomb tripe...
esp. if one has...
tiramisu for dessert...
              
      i listen in on the BBC radio 3 broadcast
and i tease myself with words like...
the seclusive parody... no...
the non-inclusive... i.q. like a pH test...
one is either "intellectually" acidic or
alkaline...

old darwin can't exactly rewrite this
fork... in the lineages of history making...
what is out-dated about the english
is clinging to darwin...
by now this should be
a well reserved fact...
and loiter in the subconscious...
it should not have the capacity
to have the propensity of words...
to still have to be expressed as
a reiteration...
                    the automation
of the heart...
                                   i am beyond
the caricature of this amnesty of
"grief"...
               beyond: with a sense temporal...
only...
              
       it's not like the copernican
heliocentric model was...
but it was... something for a wittgeinstein...
it's not like he was some
william burroughs who negated
the copernican interlude...
searching for ghosts and proofs
saying: the ancient egyptians knew
of the heliocentric model all along!

one person is somehow compounded
to lie...
whether it is true... or false...
it's beside the posit and the will for
the focus of narrative...
the will to power is...
an -esque variation of...
the submerging focus for the masses...
a will to power concerns the elite...

but what concerns all of us?
the narrative of subversion...
               it's not so much a hierarchy of
glistening parodies of giggling...
at the exchange...

the will to power can be compensated...
the ordeal of a narrative...
right now! it's not necessarily true
or false...
     you can strobe light as many scientific
facts... uncertainties...
quack doctors will still sprout!

there was once a will to power...
a progress fabric / template for exceptional
men... the en masse is only now:
the last reigning exception...
what was once )will( is now )narration(...
what was once )power(... is now...
                   a "leisure" of a lie...

                  such the current world has
become so: new and in being so new:
so new-demanding...
                the old quest of a predicament
of the individual... some beckett-esque
oasis is but a half-heaved
borrowing of ancient greek monstrosity
of myth: this now new
pathology...

                   history - mythology -
journalism - temporal relativism -
all kept... within... the confines... of...
a spatial "integrity":
but i very much like... the lost butterfly
wings of "         " (odd)...

when: oh god... and if there wasn't
this propaganda machine...
but only now... you can see it speeding
up... and it's like... trailblazing
and you're wishing for some repose
with a tumbleweed
and how there could be
a cancan moment in h'americana...
when the old soviets would be
at it...

         but shyla stylez is still 35...
and dying of "reprieve"...
but i'm still gorging on beef honeycomb
tribe... and eating an italian classic
minutes later...

            because i might eat...
the livers of oinks...
the stomachs of chickens...
and the hearts...
i am barbaric...
                but i like...
the nova scotia compass...
or where it's "heading"...
i have a dutch lisp tantrum that's
beside a kiss of a tarantula...
that these people gravitated
toward a flattening of concerns...
this bicycle had to replace
towing a tonne of beef:
and milking it...

           hindering the limbo for
the worth of caviar, oysters...
and... scrutiny limbo tall...
a caribbean **** muster-pace...
because mustard is a european
masterpiece... along with
the "jelly" of the horse:
subjected to the readied dish of:
                      radical-conservatism...

calls "us" radishes on the
harsh... told to talk tall bone
with grit of bone...
     i hide my rhymes
with a... most secure... are we'iz'e'kid?
hoods to clamour for a:
"safen und testez"?

the bull-whipped testimony
of the tried and tested..
pair of guggenheim's "dropped off"....
my ordeal at the opera!
stiletto baron... a piercing sort
of "shoe"...
         the elephant's trunk is
a bad metaphor for a jazz fuelled trumpet...
concerning the otherwise
3 blind mend teasing the braille
of carpenter's 1 hour posit for:
no instagram, no fan-boyoh...
this variation of choking joke of junk...

the "rhyme" come first..
a prefix junction...
because executing memory with
suffixes... is... like... "no"... and "new"...
once upon a time some alexnder
the great...
count my concerns...
the balkans are the size of texas..
the ottoman turks were and are...
merely the pronounced presence
of barbery... on the demand
of the english... plumbers...

well... everything in english...
is steroid riddled: shakespearean or not...
macbeth or death...
it's not even dickensian...
it's: school the children or: death's
parrot and the *** riddled quack...
it's that the pillar is... heavier than its
shadow...
the... zunge ein walgrundieren...
              neckerei...
                          ein augenbinde hängend...

not that this is some Latvian
excavation project:
who! is to spreschen richtig....
german-philia or a russo-phobia...
bible blessed nuance
of... ol' david & delylah....
samson & goliath...

      my own pretty azure ice cradle topic...

a lobotomy of wooling
the cushion of an aversion
towards the heave! a grand heave!
prototype of nuance normie...
which is like gradation the arab project...
and he-he! softy-pie y first catering
for cancer last: croatian lobotomy *******
cue:

lumbering at a grief of a sedation..
to chop a tree...
to heave a concept of table
or a toothpick from it...
to give birth for a cherry fruit...
to delight a hindering of
             i aim...
                     the teeth and
the prosthetic... looking pristine...
prime gum:  excavating "leisure"...
it's that....

jaw-abiding:
sharon stone contra...
michelle pfeiffer...
        kim cattrall: godzilla ***
casablanca?!
    shyla stylez izzzzzzzzzzz
zoom?!
       jaw-gnashing teeth counting...
my leisure
of experimenting with
grace...
            my own: men-yoroi...
             licking a lisp...

this 3 bottles of jack a toll...
                       of this summa summarum;
these "croatian" shadow-people...
the lesser kind...
of the less celebrated...
after all: from california toward
the axis of elven-evil via texas...
the pristine people:
beside the primo escape plan
aiming at the moon!
what is the ol' muscovite affair...
that now... tinged with a beijing hindering...      

the soviets would bring a bomb...
the billionth man came
with a cinema of a ******* sneeze!
Paige Feb 22
There was this thing  you did
Your lips would twitch before you smile
It made you look so lost so fragile
There was thing you did
Your body a trembling mess
As my hands explored the abyss of your silence
There was this thing you did
Your eyes dilated as we fed off the high of our energies
You my only remedy
There was this thing you did
Unintentionally wooling my clarify into pure desire
And dancing to the sounds of my pure want
For you
For us
There was this thing you did
Watch me spill the glass of my love in your hands
Without warning as you watched it fall right through
All because of those things you do

— The End —