when the meditation fails

June 29, 2009 at 6:42 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, poetry, sheer selfindulgence, writing | 17 Comments
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and the melancholic lady fully medicated
sleeps
and he forgets where the tiger what
it was
he shuffles half asleep into some
nightmare cupboard
of whispers and enemies lurking
by firelight at solstice
simply to imprint some unique mark
puts on his brown bowler hat
and says where’s Art?

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“Fastest Left Hand In The West” Clint Eastwood.

October 18, 2008 at 8:37 pm | Posted in music, poetry, writing | 11 Comments
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popart popout, haha, in the meantime
naked hairy man returns grinning
Oh No not Caliban again she sighs,
doesn’t want her curv’d lines written for her
not in my tongue
no how, ho ho, no way,

art as mere artefact of spont
ayneeus combustion
Ladies and Gentleman in the left corner
Hemingway sweating and sunburnt
bruting up the hill home again
having found some release in dizziness

and the other an elegant creature
the bull survived by a certain skill
of headtbuttingsleeping learned in the taverns
of Marseille , F. said slapping my back
held the left hand together so as to make
the Chico tattoo plopping the green felt hat in his
pocket and sitting down at the piano,

(take five…

Sorry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(a big one)

May 6, 2008 at 7:12 pm | Posted in music, poetry, writing | 15 Comments
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opens the lid, takes a deep breath, in the spirit of Randallian hangin’ honesty, and a tip of the hat to the mighty F.G. Franklin, listening to Albert King very loud thru the headphones,
woooooo, hahaha, i dare you
underneath that powder and paint,
pretty woman, what’s the matter with you,
i already apologised, twice i think,
(Three Card, slicks his hand into his pocket,
Mamu flinches almost into a grin,
i keep my eyes on the piano, i am telling you,
i am remembering the first time i actually saw Art
Tatum play,

by the way, you can find me Monday Nights, at the Orchid Room,
and Saturday afternoon,

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