24 July 2010

beginning again bear

watchin these trucks go by
makin my throat go dry
feelin the barbecue sickness
this cancer cloud over us
I'm rattlin round the back of this ute
my masculinity burtstin
a brutal blue pill frenzy not the red pill terrorism
I've shot my share of loads on lounges
over all your optimus transformer
a prime beef reformist - I'm fatter than angus
rounder than a bank manager's anus
I'm sittin in this chair but floatin on the ceiling
these mushroom dusters kickin in like heeling
camel seedlings in wheatbelt regions
wishin sage was a tradie
shouldn't listen to the bleeding
I'm a youtube junkie
yr a facebook monkey
a cyber sex function
beginning again
begin again
begin again

I'm a pop-up shadow puppet
a ghost in the paddock - fuckit
bones of foxes and feathers here tell stories
a narrative of dreamers
but the weather keeps hittin
nothing better than squatting here
after breakfast bacon hot coffee and smoking
dug this hole just deep enough
to fit my human waste
I'm not brave enough to build a shower
wait days to hit the public bar
and shout shit at the flannos
the reffo-hating spanners
beginning again
begin again
begin again

and I'm getting vertiginous
needing 10 beers to get near the finish
I can't finish this - how can I finish this
can somebody help me
kill this poetry - let me finish this - let me finish this
struggle over the wandoo sheoak
my stick not big enough, wide enough
to please the blokes
anyway I was fucking this bloke
it was a reach-around - a hip n shoulder
to the ground like a full-forward on the run
at 25 metres out - a mark on the goal square
I'm strugglin to hit the line
before I need to begin again
beginning again
begin again
begin again

and this thing is not a picnic
my life is is not a jpeg or a ping pic
an xbox joystick
not a vimeo page
not a guest spot on rage
wish I was back on the paddock
smashing trees in the ripline
not drillin for words like peak oil philosophy
not eatin stale sandwiches
wishin I was the masterchef
servin up treble clefs
plating up poetry
and and and
beginning again
begin again
begin again

this must be the end
this must be the end
it is

manufactured treated compounds

card hard against my flesh
micro hair-scrape cross my chest
a plastic history - an echoic festival
i'm molded n melted, stiff n shifted
wading thru this sea of idiots
in a ben hur chariot
having a my bad moment
thrown into the wastebin
clutchin my coin-purse of 3 cent pieces
listenin to the compounds
resonators are my sisters
interpret the systems
for the