So long as they don’t get violent, I want to let everyone say what they wish, for I myself have always said exactly what pleased me.

That time,
I spilled a drink.
Shrugging into myself.
Cursed and cussed.
cast out socially.

When at any moment I could have killed them.
I have that, within me.
A fight to the death my dear.

Fossick.
Dwelling by the bucket full.
hands, dirty with dusty grime.
thinking back to older times.
And here I am, the sad fool.

The boy looks for the moon
he finds the brights star
and finds the rock

into the cave

out through the hold
down the sairs
through the door
up the ladder
he finds his memory

Happy Birthday.

16.2.98

I went to McDonalds and Debs and I saw a rabbit.

28.2.98

I saw Tilly’s puppy.
I
Saw
Puppy.

3.3.98
I watched Titanic

9.3.98
I went to the boat shed.

16.3.98
I went to Kathy’s birthday

19.3.98
Spider Snail.
I have a spider

I see a snail.

I love my snail.

23.3.98

I have a saw.
I have a sore.

03.3.98
I stayed the night at my friend’s house.

6.4.98
I went to the shop

*nice work, Patrick.

21.4.98

I went to see Lost in Space.

21.4.98
I had a haircut.

27.4.8
We had a big shop.

was was was was was

I was frightened.

4.5.98
I went to the shop.

mummummummummummummummummum.
I love my mum.

11.5.98
I put my big train track together.

my my my my mymy
my my mymymymymy
my mymymymymymy
I went to my friends house.

18.5.98
I did swim ten
laps at the big
swimming pool
and I had lots of fun.

said said said said
said said said said said
my mum said
she was going a
way

25.5.98
I went on a
bus with my
class to the fairy
shop. When I got there
we split up into
two groups. one
went to the fairy
and one went
to the wizard.
The fairy put magic
fairy dust in her hair
and we had fun.
and we went to the
park we played chasings.

15.6.98
I went to see
godzilla and
godzilla pulled three
fishing boats under
water and godzilla
had a lot of eggs.

pulled pulled pulled
three thee three
under under.

22.6.98
I went to Sam and
Kieran’s house and I
went ton the bike track
with Kathy and
their dog.

6.7.98.
I went to the shack
and I played with Alex and
Daniel and we went to
the caves.

13.7.98
I went to the doctor
and he said “eat fruit”
and water and month
later I felt a lot better
so I came to shool.

27.7.98
Today Miss Maguire is
not at school she is
learning more about
computers.

i went to Sam and
kieran’s to play
and I played soccer
played soccer

28.7.98 Tuesday
Today is overcast
It is only 12 degrees in Hobart.
It is snowing
on the mountain

my brother went
to a speaking

I went to Patrick P’s
Birthdat and it was at
Rollerworlds and I had
fun

13.8.98 I went to the museum
and my favourite part was the teachers dancing
and I learnt that
the thing aborigines
women will fill sick
so they don’t play
didgeridoo

We got a video and it
was x-files and it
was “M”
24.8.98

I went to the swimming pool
and I saw Zik
and I had fun.

It was my sister’s birth

it was my dad’s birthday and
I did a stunt 5.10.98

I am going to 12.10.98
see the Anglesea Barracks
to check it out and
see if it is nice.

19.10.’98
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
i i i i i i i i i i i i i i i
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
I went to the school
fair. It was fun. I
Liked it.

19.1098
I we died half the thing
in the world. Just about
and I got a new pen.

2.11.’98
On the holidays Jon
and me played gumnut
cricket and I got hit
in the head by a
gumnut

9.11.’98
I have about 51
old coins

16.11.’98
I did get a new
shirt from my
brother. and i
like it.

23.11.’98
My friends came
over to sleep

30.11.’98
I am getting a
new book and maybe
I will get it tomorrow

Oh darling its come again,
the decay of time.
four minutes of silence
and me running
into the wild
waving and kicking.

would you change for me?
as i vomit yesterday’s beans.
stomach expanding,
teeth sore
eyes sore
dry and squinting.
I can’t have ibuprofen-
“it makes me cum blood,”
I explain listlessly.

I had my teeth cleaned
so i’m not shy,
nor
afraid of smiling.

“would you change for me,”
I ask.
she says arks.
it drives me to insanity.
such quirks
revolt me with their unsettling sweetness.

“I like your short hair,” I said.
she looks at me, and
pulling a face
that isn’t quite
her own.
laughs. catching me off guard.
She touches herself and speaks of waters.
It makes me think pregnant thoughts,
and her acting confuses the subject.
the back of my throat catches,
salty with slime and phlegm.

“you’re my silippery rock,” she says.
“silippery?” i whisper.

“what?,” she said pulling another face, this time her own.
“nothing” I replied.
My jaw clenched tight,
my temple hummed.
I can’t take Advil, that’s ibuprofen and that makes my balls bleed.
She nods.
pushing at her lower back and smiling up at me.

What do you want to do this weekend-
what do you want to do?

I said I wanted to paint with chocolate,
write jokes,
invent words and their history,
coin private phrases
and garden.

Sober thoughts.
and Japanese dinner plans.
the soup of my mind.
the waters and
bones.
And i’ll wait for high-heels,
or ring of phones.

All I want from you is sex.
and after that, noting next.
this is a reflex.
our willowy necks.
forgotten ex.
polarized specks.
flecks.
pecks
rex.
arms.
farms.
animal.
corduroy.
flannagan
fidel.
ramble.
coin.
flip
apple
stomach.
pronunciation.
adverb
kittens.
pink
hair.
love lick split shove shaft raft swim.
slippery.
ROCK.

No prejudice.
Maybe over-did it a little. A big drive, perfect weather.
A discovery of the best sensation.
Natural flowing water over the top of a waterfall.
Experiencing gravity’s weight; that 80%, natural, reductive, common, therapeutic water. Swimming, with tonsilitis.
Free spinning back, side, front.
Hopping from rock to rock.
Slippery algae.
Green, and blue – like Bukowski’s bedroom.

Bad poetry-
a failed Haiku, our purpose.
lavender, bag filling and baked eggs.
Me talking too much,
the base in the bouncing song.
Likened to living in a tin can,
rolling down a hill,
while its hailing,
and the bulls are running after you,
in stilettos.

The fun police were out.
I questioned the freedom of 20’s.
people stood on a bridge and took photos later.
Kicking the ball, swimming, soaking up the sun.
Fresh water, no fear, over tired.
Free, glands swelling.
the fear of my neck pains.
throat closing over-
I rebounded a grape off the wall and caught it in my mouth.
Woolworths, offered a security guard a grape.
She said no.
“oh well,” I said.

The sun was out,
we crashed a party.
Two beautiful girls, both with the name Ruby.
Preppy theme.
Great chatting to everyone.
Rich family, Black Forest Cheesecake.
Too much alcohol.
Topless dancing, everyone naked in the pool.
An enormous pink flamingo.
We pretended to be jockeys.

A few broken glasses around
the fire pit.
MDMA for the kids, not me though.
I had a few beers, meat,
talked of books,
read a DNA magazine from National Geographic.
Rhys played guitar,
girls,
I managed to escape.
Swam again.
Handstands, under the open sky.
5 minutes, clouds appear.
Crescent moon, beer, beer beer.

Its getting on-
I feel the circlet.
Surrounding me, a fallen halo.
People’s faces drooping.
Me feeling perky. Awake, going hard for 24 hours.
Bridgette, Bec, Ruby, Ruby, Brooke, and others.
names; who cares? When did I decide they were worth remembering.
“May I join you”. Politeness.
Fucking normalized bullshit.
Avoid me while I avoid you.
What vibes, B1
what vibes B2.
your perky breasts and good taste in music are as hollow as your existence.
You and I will ever be apart and you don’t recognize your position.

I thought about the shallowness of it all.
and I embraced it.
I talked of books, of authors,
with Xander.
What a character.
I talked roller derby with little Ruby.
and talked gardening with big.
Calling in sick for work at 6am.
setting alarms and cleaning the next day.

Filling a bag with lavender,
a goal of mine.
completed!
Fine day, rain stopping when we pop out.
Pictures, laughter.
Food and drinks.
Bonding, worrying, smiles and sadness.
The universe, human scope.
Confusion, bacteria.
Worry, silence, “yes Pat”
accents, and HONESTY.

Coffee, coffee,
cauliflower cheese.
meat, meat, meat, meat, meat.
spinach + cheese. Poppy seeds.
gum chewing and the rest.
Water.
hangover juice.
fizzy make feel good.

Kicking the ball,
chatting excitedly in the rain.
Family time and knowing that she wont be there.
To see me become something else,
to make her proud-
or happy.
Look after my children,
bring joy to my life.

Look after me,
show me love, let me worry.
Provide an alternative perspective.
Talk nonsense or play a game.
I’d like to see you act.
Sing, be on the stage.
None of that!
I realize you’re gone.
Properly gone,
and
and I regret not speaking to you alone.
things we don’t know.
or maybe we do.
When you die, you don’t hear.
no brain function.
You were dead
but not to me.
What does dead mean.

I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t there.
I was late,
you were so so cold.
defrosting, leaking, perspiring.
And my heart ached.

I’m not able to contemplate,
concept every rational relation I’ll have to you.
little things.
Pins in my side,
eyes ears mouth and nose.
Things that remind me of you.
thing I acknowledge-
realize, recognize.
you aren’t here.
you won’t see.

Won’t see me grow, or succeed.
you died so soon,
so suddenly.
Taken and all the things I wanted to do.
they lost a reason,
a caring and
a purpose.
Someone? No; not just someone.
The woman that raised me.
That shared her everything with me.
milk and blood.
Life and time.
energy, love and anger.
raised me.
and now you’re gone.
Too soon
too soon.
So soon?
You cried and I didn’t lie.
“I’ll see you again, don’t cry, bye mum,”

“look at the stars Pat,”
Oh Christ. I should have called.
That’s all I remember.

Anger.
Lack of point.
pointedness and understanding.
Oneself. Shy, quiet, worthless, naked-
topless. White skin, good music, dancing.
Free but posturing, reactions.
Self conscious of our bodies.
Barriers and boundaries up.
Dysfunctional fun.
honesty?

And i’m not content.
My throat ached
“you right mate,”
“yes, quite, thankyou very much,” I said.
Quiet because I was suffering, but happy enough.
Not plagued with other thoughts.

Talked to the birthday girl.
She was a keen young thing.
Falling and drinking and chatting.
What a glorious creature.
Knees bloodied, accent drawing out.
Eyes crossing, staring, wanting but
never getting.
Distance always.
distance only.
shutting out, shutting out, shutting out.

I ate,
sugar, meat, salad.
energy spurts.
Lying, worrying, shock,
dying – pens to adrenaline.
fix me please.
Yoga stress? Orgasms.
Great music taste-
kiss kiss kiss. but not me.

I sat, glasses on the next day after a hot night on an angle.
Sleeping bag, blood pooling at my feet.
I slept like the small hand of a clock.
Rolling with the times.
But there was no big-
big point.
The next day I played the YEATS game.

YEE-TS.
Potato/Potato.
Tomato/You’re a cunt.

“I’m sure I’m right,” he said.
(i’d hooked him), i’d already won my game.
W.B. YEETS. Trust me man.
“I’m willing to go to war,” he said.
My eyes laid the challenge bare and I stopped it there saying:
Its not worth dying over.
He got the message.
I feel like I faltered, but i’d really buried him and everyone at that point.
Hangovers are mean,
they brig out the worst in people.

Earl Grey Tea.
With honey.
sip sip sip.

-trying to get even-

we’d had any number of joints and some
beer and I was on the bed stretched out
and she said, “look, I’ve had 3 abortions
in a row, real fast, and I’m sick of
abortions, I don’t want you to stick that
thing in me!”

it was stickup up there and we were both
looking at it.
“ah, come on,” I said, “my girlfriend fucked
2 different gues this week and I’m trying to
get even.”

“don’t get me involved in your domestic
horseshit! now what I want you to do it
to BEAT that thing OFF while I WATCH!
I want to WATCH while you beat that thing
OFF! I want to see it shoot JUICE!

“o.k. get your face closer”

she got it closer and I spit on my palm
and began working.

it got bigger. just before I was ready I
stopped, I held it at the bottom
stretching it,
the head throbbed
purple and shiney.

“oooh,” she said.
she ducked her mouth over it, suck at
it and
pulled away

“finish it off,” I said.

“no!”

I whacked away and then stopped again
at the last moment and held it at the
bottom and waved it all around the
bedroom.

she eyed it
fell upon it again
sucked and pulled away.
we alternated the process
back and forth

again and again.

finally I just pulled her off
the chair
onto the bed
rolled on top of her
stuck it in
worked it
worked it
and came.

when she walked back out of
the bathroom she said,
“you son of a bitch, I love you,
I’ve loved you for a long time.
when I get back to Santa Barbara
I’m going to write you. I’m
living with this guy but I hate
him, I don’t even know what I’m
doing with him.”

“o.k.,” I said, “but you’re up
now. can you get me a glass of
water? I’m dry.”

she walked into the kitchen and
I heard here remark that
all my drinking glasses were
dirty.

I told her to use a
coffee cup. I
heart the water running and I
thought, one more fuck
I’ll be even
and I can be in love with my girlfriend again-
that is
is she hasn’t slipped in an
extra
and she probably
has.

-uneven-

night came. I
flagged.
Pale and done with it
all.
Early to rise so bed came
calling.

I answer.
only to have emotional bears
stand over me shaking
hands
asking
questions.
I say goodnight.
rolling over

tea scalds the
inner lining of my mouth.
the skin peels away,
dead like smeg
or the skin of a snake
I sit up,
nursing the brilliant heavy cup
in both my hands

the steam tears my eyes
even
the handle is
hot
Seeking out this dessert
of pain and warmth
instead of others.

Gripping
the thoughts of what matters
firm in my hands.
sipping
angry old leaves
‘asbestos mouth’
she would say it to me
any time of day.

old saying
she had a few of those
“oh god,” she’d say
“jesus
mary-and-joseph,.”
it would come out
two quick
mashed together words-
riding eachother
i found it funny
and so
offputting
i’d close my eye
so she couldn’t see me rolling
them.

i’d smile
out of fear of laughter and
roll on-top.
spread my knees
dig in my
hands
squeezing it all tightly and
shut

working it
omnipotent tension
failing mind
body smiling.

ubiquitous…
lying love

losing grip,
foothold.
agony ripping through
and
out of me.

you take hot tea
the same as the,
string
molten and clenched.
drawing deeply.

I try to put away
time. For you-
In a place.
Neat. Tidy and
matching.
We’ve worn eachother out.

fill the void,
the holes keep getting bigger.
Drawn out. Rinsed.
Nothing smells fresh anymore.
Everything is tired,
threadbare.
Strands that kept us
together. The folds.
Rolls. Turned into eachother.

inside and out.
Moth eaten, fuzzy-wuzzies.
I don’t keep my money
there with you anymore.
we’ve been through
the washer
clean they said and we thought.
stretched and lost more like.
far away away apart.

Left to bake in the sun.
faded
crinkled
Unsaved drafts, prototypes.
We slip over the real thing.
Misshapen gloves.
Beneath layers.
Mouths gaping.
Bottoms sewn shut.

Not dates nor cheese.
Like we’re baking bread
no longer breaking.
Our holes are there for everyone to see.
Toes poking out.
Extra limbs,
strange attachments.
coloured and discoloured.
Trying on new styles.

We are after a fashion.
Pulled on
worn in
worn out
and cast aside or lost in the washing machine.
We are a couple
of sockettes.

-My Face-

It comes
out when I
Sweat.
Cheeks pulled.
The eyes

face it

my sickness of thought
shining out
its there

flattening
shining bare

Flat, gloves shining bare.

Noun
: restricted traffic lane exclusively reserved for the
use of vehicles with two or more occupants.

He stood holding out a sign.
“Carpool Service $10”
He wore a tie and
had short black hair.
He was picked up by lots
lots of different people.
All excessive.
An old man.
A beautiful woman with large
glasses. Polarized.
They shook and synchronized their:
“bye”
A muscled man.
A goldfish woman.
A lover of tattoos
A wild blonde that checked for pimples.
All over the city he went,
saving the time of others.
meeting folks, preventing fines on a fine day.
The police drove past-
watching and watching and watching him
On his return journey home,
sitting as the sun
set.
Fading into a glowing mood.
Darkness and the first bites of cold.
He walked, holding out his sign.
And was picked up by the beautiful woman again.
Pulling
into the curb.
She leant across
unlocking the passenger door.
His heart warmed.
She smiled up at him,
leaning back
into the drivers seat.
Revealing her
full figure.
His eyes took her in
He returned her smile.
Seating himself, they
pulled away
from the curb.
and swiped by a passing truck.

Sort two.
Woo two.
Who knew.
Too few.

There are two sorts of people in this world.
Those who laugh and those who cry.

Those tricky people that ask you a question that you must answer.
Those wasteful words, wanting answer. Sitting between us.
asking to share across the foggy void that laps at your eyes, ears and chest.
Your feet, your knees and pushes at the backs of your arms.
up up up.
Two sorts of people, yes.
One whom laughs.
The next, they cry.
Always and anyway. Its either one on the other.
I see you laughing, and I can see that you could choose to do the other.
I’d bring it up, but why would I want to turn the mood.
You’re laughing now, so i’m crying for you.
When I cry, you laugh.
I am a human see-saw.

For every laugh you make, another somewhere in the world is silence.
A cry breaks out. Somewhere else there is silence.
A cry breaks out. A laugh breaks out.
Somewhere else, two people share a silence.
What a beautiful moment to have witnessed.

Opposites attract.
I take upon myself both.
Stay away from me.
Stay away.
Let me negate all else.

/i/The place didn’t look bad

she had huge thighs
and a very good laugh
she laughed at everything
and the curtains were yellow
and I finished
rolled off
and before she went to the bathroom
she reached under the bed and
thew me a rag.
it was hard
it was stiff with other men’s
sperm.
I wiped off on the sheet.

when she came out
she bent over
and I saw all that behind
as she put Mozart
on.

Pofodo – The poet.
Pafodo – The patient
Pifodo – The lazy
Pefodo – The worker
Pufodo – The breather
Pyfodo – The fighter.
Phfodo – The thinker

Today I sat.
At a screen.
Sore back, glum.
Gloomy, down, sad.

Up and down.
Hot and cold.
Interchangeable words for.
Word for proper nouns.
For proper thoughts, thoughts.

Echoes echos echo.

Tea and biscuits.
Food, regrets. Rest,
relaxation. Ability to recover and love one’s self.
And to think: come on over and let me have you.
Lets use eachother.
Relax, like cats.
Impatient, clawing.
Restless, resentful.

The world is full of flakes.

Let me put my dick in you.
Let me lick you and love your body.
not your mind, not your time.
let me wash.
I’ll wash, I’ll relax.
No yoga, meditate some other way.
Stress and mental battles.
Lying to oneself.
Aggregate, falling down.
Jumbling pillars.
Expectations. Failure and melting moments.
I am the butter that sinks the biscuit.
The animal, frailty.
Poison volunteer of a corrupt and hungry babe.
The teat; teased and bitten.
Suckled, dimpled.
Harsh, boils and fitful squirts.

My pessimistic alienation.
Forthright skeptic.
Too well fed for cynicism.
Able bodied.
Angry, jealous try-hard.
Of all things but many.
Many, many mistakes.
Fallen star.
Foot to foot,
to heel, and arse.
Laden and growing fat.
Tired eyes, angry ears and upbringing.
A little bump to the left.
Stuck, in behind my ear.
Could be cancer.
The browning more. Violent, asking and angry.
So, so much has been asked of me.
My stomach yields nothing.

Angry fitful yawns,
wretched and taxing.
No curtain can blot out the caliber.
Long rifled sheets.
Cheat us of our deaths.
The ritual act of love,
sacrificing our time for upbringing.
Our dissolution; reaching out with both hands patiently.
Pulling plastic over our shafted lives.
Capturing cities of our own righteousness.
Princely kings, kinds and all kinds.
Broken and resentful.
Arched backs, slick.
Painful, enjoyable waves.
Riding slick, shallows in greater depths.
Nothingness greets us.
Gaping, gasping holes.
Squinting pleasures.
Swallowing all,
choking breaths.
A phenomenon too uncommon now.
That edge, self talk.
Lying to myself again.

Come over.
Covet me.
Let me soak in a bath.
Warm. Reading. Relaxed.
Angry for want of a day, of tumbling fields without barriers.
It’d be nice.
Real nice to do this with more purpose.
Where has my scope gone.
Give me time, let me read.
So so much to read.
And music, and the fears of not connecting.
And to over think.
and be so fragile, and broken and emotional.
To be rentable.
Evicerated. Worried.
Afraid of connection.
Suffering from a stagnacy, a stuckness, not capturing moments as I should.
Missing the things I never regret and plowing into the skittles like a newborn.

Fuck me.
Fuck me-
Fuck me.
Your tones.
Your beeps.
The waiting.
The screwing-
around around.

Let me ask myself what I want.
what I need, and if i’m confident or happy to ask.
I feel flat and I don’t want to ask you about things that you weren’t willing to share. Like your wedding. Like your feelings.
You’re shallow. Like i’m shallow.
What I see in you I try to cut from myself.
And the hypocrisy and linkage kills me.
It bubbles and boils and sticks to me like the resin of the first rubber tree.
Like semen in a bath of cold water.
Brown sugar in the foil of a baked apple.
The party string. The vibe shifts and rifts and rents me.
I am mutilated.
Distant without possibility of recovery.
Bush shacks. Hard work, without pay.
Sitting, sitting, sitting.
Let me run away.
I said it again.
But I won’t. I’ll stay and stress about the common things.
This shit. Smearing over me. Burying me so that I may fossilize.
Reptilian blood coursing through a spring.
Cold eyes.
Mascara-less.
Sportless.
Wantless.
Careless.
Foilless.
Fuckless.
Travelless.
Pityful.
Re-endangered spirit of a cursed species.
No scope for its own world, no plausibility or sense for consistency.
We are bugged.
Broken in our melting form.
Rubber, sugar, oven and all.
we are bugged.
I am cursing.
Should I be?
Am I cursed.

I’ve got a few notes, i’m sorry i’ve been away.
Away so long-
Its just my heart hasn’t been in it.
You know what I mean babe.
It was broken.
Fractured. Wrenched.
Hit with lead pip.
Gouged out.
Torn up.

Sweated on.
Beaten down.
Stuffed with tar and oil and pain.
And now i’m back, back to writing again.
Jealousy, madness, sympathy and rage.
All experienced, foretold this sage.

And in my experience.
I become the cynic.
Cyanide, ebbs in my putrid lake.
My fettered choices, another mistake.
And i’m dubious, i’m careful of feelings-
feeling it thoughtful, thinking of time.

Because we’re not getting any younger.
And we’re all gonna age.
We aren’t getting any younger babe-
Hearts, submerged for sharks, but for being locked away in a cage.

We could look like a rolling stone,
This could all be a snowball effect.
We could look like Jagger does now.
And that’s my heart; don’t nag, don’t frown.

I think she’s hot.
I think she’s great.
I like her.
So I don’t care what you say.
I don’t even mind her bottom.
Big and round you say?
I say, We aren’t getting any younger Dad.
So while you’ve got it-
rock it.

Some horrible people out there.
Yeah…
And they never get what they deserve.
Bad people in the world.
And they never get what’s coming to them.

We use bad people to define ourselves.
bad people play a role.
Your understanding of bad is ONLY and JUST-
Where you are at currently in your life.
You will change.
All things change.
You’re happy today, sad tomorrow.
And then you’re happy again, or sad, or dead.

Let there be horrible people.
But rejoice in not being them,
Don’t even acknowledge them.
Draw only the good out of people, if you can.
If you can do that.
Can you?