New month! New look.
Button up shirts. – Always.
Thanks for the top-deck haircut Paul.
He had a cut-throat razor and let me live,
lets just forget I said anything.

I’m pretty confused at the moment.
Learning all this business lingo,
I can feel myself changing.
Hopefully I can maintain my identity,
my ideas. ‘My life’s accumulation of delayed goals’
That’s not a book I care to write, or read.
Things I should have said and done,
Asked her out, said something funny
been wild. Said nothing. screamed.
Choices made for me by the passing of time,
and the willingness to be a germ.

I’m just wondering what I can do to be more me.
To be true to myself, to travel.

Cape Grim.
spelt wrong.

“i’m going to leave you again”

“koooo-eeeee”

“you’re depressed”

“you have no idea how this, you are effecting me”

Is it effecting or affecting?
Does it matter?
Can’t it just be both.

Happy New Month.

I feel this is the most hurtful word one can use.
Its important around me, that it’s not abused.
I then roll my eyes, completely in jest
notice, as they rolled I spied unrest
But instead of my hated word she chose
something that rated not nearly as close.

Dick!

Oh child take your vocabulaire to bed
Quick-

now young imp, be elsewhere instead.

To be the fool,
More on that later.
More-an-more-an-moron.
To jibe and duel,
Scored to spatter
Let the drops run-on&on-anon.

Onion! Why art thou so thick?
Ye dropped as a bairn?
Caramelised’en thick
Lay’on lay’r, mourn-
fer’me would yee
Cac-tus eye-d’y’see?
this prick, pierce my stomach
let the red run
drunkards sober deathshiver
At-last the last one.

“SHUTUP”

Its not so bad,
But fuck groupwork.

Fuck your tone,
Fuck this cold.
Fuck my choices

Thus far, this life
of mine. My drive.
The ease unto which-
I have become sloth.

Present me is kicking future me in the shins.
Got some serious due dates coming up.
Be afraid, be very afraid.
I’m on a roll.
Today I was sapped of energy.
These early mornings might be getting me down.
Not sure of the toll.
I feel the words and I in synergy
Trying to keep my feet upon the ground.

Had quality hangouts with mates
Made a hilarious pun.
Still got a week on THAT due date.
And one less on this one.

Time’s a fickle mistress.
One we all mistrust.
The mirror women must trust.
For just how much they stress.

Got my sister a bicycle today.
Played the volley game,
Watched the football.
I think Chelsea will beat Arsenal for the title tonight.
I cooked Pesto Pasta.
I made a boutique dessert.
I heard from dad:
“People often get bored in beautiful places”-
“Yet they are rarely bored in the desert”
(Oh yeah? Because cooking alive and drinking your own urine is entertainment of the highest degree I suppose)… I mean, dad is wize, wise even! He makes a valid point, he comes from a position of power, being my dad and having actually travelled the world extensively.
I kept my thoughts.

Brain feels its on the cusp of some sort of great discovery.
Like i’m about to discovery a brand new religion.
A dichotomy of my usual thinking.
I had a free sec today and looked up poetry.
How to further my understanding.
I wonder what the best example of consonance is?
I’ll google it later.
I need to polish up on my literary terms.
I need alot of things.
Je besoin des!

Started my day at the dawn service.
I’m not overly patriotic, but I did want to see what it was all about.
I’ll be back in another 100 years.

I went for a long jog,
Someone added the pulp back into my apple juice that I’d slaved over.
I ended at the lookout over Cornelian Bay.

I marched my way into the nearby graveyard,
Looking for quotes and the most unappreciated looking grave.
I found a few of each, none that covered both criteria.

The russians(?) have an interesting way of representing the cross.
Everyone wants to be different.
I jogged back, stopping in at north Hobart for a coffee and florentine.

I returned home, energised and warm.
Feeling I wont weather this winter very well.
Quality time with dad and some pals, put the shopping away.

I left my phone and headphones at my cousins,
So i’ll be going for a jog again tonight.
Dinner was snacks.

Read some more Yeats in my spare hour between study.
Such talent, I truly am awestruck sometimes.
Not enough hours in the day.

Made some Pope puns.
Un-Pope-ular by majority.
Then I thought about jobs and where I might otherwise apply myself.

All this free time,
All this sacrifice
All so lucky.

“The luck of the Anzacs”

Shit poetry storm over something stupid I just read on the internet.
Shallow bollock from some idiot.
Along the lines of:
“man is the only beautiful thing on earth”
“and the only thing in man in mind”.

I immediately pressed ctrl+f.
‘find me anywhere but here’
It didn’t work.
The quote stood.
Letters glaring me in the face.

CRTL+F (again)
“something that makes sense”
–
“anything that is more intellectually charged that this bullshit”
“Self centred shit” – weird it didn’t come up.

Then the page loaded and here I am with my thoughts.
My Ctrl+F: Terrible poetry.
The jagged ideas.
The un-honed edges of my mind.
I think i’m trying a bit to hard to be smart.

Everyone loves a critic, but do they?
We all like to ‘Control F’.
While some prefer ‘crtl’-
Others want only to ‘f’

Yes, its a computer term
You apply it to your everyday.
Get out the magnifier in this way
Get what needs be confirm.

The things you find
Thats if you’re looking
They’re clearly signed
Thy babbling brookings.

I want to find a mate
A mate and some pals
I stepped onto the door mat
And our past the flowers.

Looking a sorry state,
Looking at some gals
Sat flat on my date
On my back, hours.

Time pass’t me by.
I pressed and ctrl+f’ed,
and wondered why.
Why’s it just me left?

I lay unmasked, alone.
I brought out my phone
And asked
ctrl+f me a “home”

Find me a bed.
Place where I control
Where i’m in love
Where the F has evolved.

Mum didn’t cook the fish properly.
Weird that salmonella, sorta sounds like salmon.
But i eat that shizz in sushi all the time.
Raw! And no qualms. Strange that I worry now.

Caught up with Slayer and Rich today.
Great chats, quality dudes.
Talked big trash, moved around a bit.
Had a driving lesson. It’s like riding a bicycle.

Caught up with my boys Wil & Phil.
Times have changed. Sad.
Saw Rhys and his girl,
Thought about making scrumpy.

Went on am adventure to the old abandoned pool.
Through some bricks around.
Read an amazing poem by Yeats.
Had 2 quality coffees and a tea.

So much to do.
Very relaxed.
Do I have plans for mothers day?
What will tomorrow bring today?

I don’t know if i’m sick,
if my body is fighting something.
But I’ve slept most of today.
My concentration is shot.
I feel woozy
I have chest flutters.
I’m flushed.
I ate about 10 apples for lunch
And then I had the most random dinner throw together.
So exhausted.

The Earth is round.
Am I heading downhill or climbing.
Just agree its hard.

Patrick ’15

The double coffee betrayal.

I’m wired.
Teeth clenched.
Brain overload
Stimulative destruction.

What was the name of that girl,
Where is my next job,
I need money.
How much time have I wasted today and every day
Where will I be next year
When will I get to where I want to be

I was told yesterday
Despite anything I say.
I base myself on someone else.
Peer groups. Expectation.
Things I hold dear.
The clothes I wear.
People I associate with.
Goals I wish to achieve.
The direction I’d like to take my life.

Well fuck that.
Hang that unpoetic life-drained thought from my cock.
Let it dry in the raw, cold, unforgiving Tasmanian sun.
I am the master of my fate.
Do I have a knot in my head.
What next? Can I somehow force the issue?
Can I be comfortable and just reside?
spend “WEEKS” in bed.
Where do I find my next gem.
My next clue.
Pearl of wisdom.
The feeling that I could be more.
Am I the only one feeling like this?
That counting weeks is idiocy.
Mondays are bad days?
Weekends? Bullshit.
Fuck this
I have a finite amount of days
I’m trying to look after myself all the while feeling dull.
DULL
GREY
Why must I flirt with these four letter words.
Give me a task, my unrest is depressing.
Let me follow the sun.
A long string of bows,
Skills, aptitudes, abilities and experiences.
Living in a time of plenty
Heaped up beside me-
too many the occasion
This “plenty”… of shit!
These cactus ideals that survive when they should wither,
and despite the tears of humanity that come in floods
distorted. We can hear, but no sense is made.
Like my words. The ideas have swept away from me
Waiting for the sun i’ve wept. Now I wait to see.