moon faced

but while i have your attention
i thought i should quickly
mention that
there are thousands of
mums and dads
and children
hidden in boxes
on islands, in floodplains
and deserts, in suburbs
and cyclone towns
and asio
is taking liberties
thieving realities

in curtin they're rhyming
every other word with hurt
and waiting waiting waiting

yet on plasmas the shorts
cannot get much shorter
low-cut tops much lower
than the required standard
not that i mind really
admiring the curves
and idiosyncratic structures
of the female form
i do dig this
but why
does it have to be so biscuit-cutter norm
these shiny skinned girls
make-up guns set to whore
in this 3 minute narrative

i gotta say though

thanks heaps mate
for the introduction
but i'm just mutton
just mutton braised like cotton
trained in 27 types of military
communications
busted and broken
as if this were a battle
yet all here in seats are unrattled
unlike me here
standing, sitting
will be forgotten
as if libya is a monument
to satisfaction
lookin for a simple solution
a paypal button
to stop me feelin like
xmas island is an illusion
it isn't
its a thousand people
waiting waiting waiting

yet again here
under the moon light
in the sexy couches
in the misfit chairs
at the plastic tables
the sound of traffic
the saturday flavours
a retro remedy

and i
just spurt a few more fucked-up
werds at the 2 til 4 coffee
that crema makin you squirm n shift listlessly
never the semiotic remnant shells
of these nicotine-rushed words
just the chemicals of verbs
the organic slur

yeah but man
I know you all been seein bands n shit
on the schoolnights
sneakin out
gettin riffs
and hair ideas
cooler than some kinda jesus-faced
bohemia

right now i could
not have packed this pipe
any thicker
the beer cannot
seem to run out
like pandas
in streets without eyes
or an egypt minus
dictators, comedy of syria
and in palestinian tunnels
diggin deeper than nato buses

verges without edges
makin me feel
vertiginous
prodiguous
not some weekend genius
maybe a little curious
never acting on impulse

that up til then these rage moments
cured and cooked and broken
like perfect concrete strutures
waiting for heritage listing
in cages without customs
they seek gaps in fences
waiting waiting waiting

and now I'll shutup
and sit down
and sip on something
and forget
what I just
said

-

performed at
Perth Poetry Club
2nd April 2011