Monday, December 22, 2008


Ridiculously waiting on these forlorn and dusty nights
Cantankerously staring at the phone- imploring it to implode
Fandangeringly impatient; for the computer is now off
Holding onto, grasping onto, grappling all the fragments of a comfort, now passing on.
Rubbing eyes in infuriation because i'm left on hold
Poem cut short

(for i'm walking out the door)

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Mr Magician

His blade severs Miss Assistant's cords.
Spinning her top, and then her bottom.
The two parts, now one- secrets are not shown.
A cloud of smoke accompanies a boom. A flash of light.
Stage blanketed in glitter, light catching upon each spec.
A kaleidoscope of shapes shift with head movement.
Stage lay bare.
But for a black box in the centre.
The audience puzzled; this a trick, part of the show?
Moments pass, minutes elapse. Time ticks on.
And on.
Impatient audience member no longer waits.
Storms upon the stage and booms 'where are you'
Statement, no question.
Inflated by silence he moves towards the box.
Trepidation sets in but he moves on because of the hundred eyes x2 watching on.
Defiant man clicks open the latch
Bare stage but for the black box.
Audience streems out, trampling specs of glitter motionless on the floor.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008


Currently unsure of the purpose of this blog. It is for bitching, writing my shit down, an online diary, showing the world who i am? Probably not the latter as no one really knows this exits, and i strive to attain this. Why? I have no idea. Too paranoid perhaps. Anything online screams JUDGE ME, what other point is there?
I think I'm just too scared to be judged in a negative way, but Jesus, all the blogs and online profiles i come across, it's all i ever do!
Conundrum, no?
What i would love to have is, as I've mentioned before one of those fantastic fashion blogs which chronologies fashion outsifts day to day. Would be interesting to see how personal style changes, but i'm just too lazy for that, and plus some days i hate what i'm wearing...
I wish i constantlyhad a pen and paper or mini computer on hand. So many things come to me when i'm walking somewhere or i'm doing something unrelated and i never have to opportunity to jot them down. I guess next ear will be different, studying changes all that.

This post started off as some ridiculous, meaningless rant, but now, i think i'm going to create a list of things i want to achieve in the year to follow, my new years resolutions, per say.

  • Get published (fiction, non-fiction, poetry) in anything
  • Attend more poetry readings
  • Compete in a poetry slam
  • Go somewhere i've never been- preferably overseas
  • Keep a notebook with me at all times and WRITE THINGS IN IT
  • Keep a diary
  • Don't start assessments too late
  • Learn how to cook a few decent meals without a recipe in front of me
  • Stop excessive spending!
  • Stop buying things i'll never end up wearing (therefore buy more vintage)
  • Start some form of exercise
  • Don't lose touch with friends
  • Speak my mind more
  • Stand up for myself when i ought to

Now for some more long term (life goals)
  • Publish a book
  • Don't be a one hit wonder
  • Drive across Australia
  • Follow Keroac's footsteps acrosss America....
  • Invent something
  • Give a lecture
  • Work for a magazine
  • Create my own magazine
  • Go back to uni after i finish
  • This is really difficult
  • I don't really know anymore, the more i think about it the more absurd they get...

Monday, December 15, 2008

I wrote this when i was watching Jeremey play the organ in a small church

The moaning mouth emits what is contradictory.
Long pipes taper to cylinders downwards forming pointed teeth.
No mark of fangs, a softened gape.
The man beneath the pipes has a yellow light fallen on his shoulders. an aura around the neck
No halo.
In the glass panes beside him the viewer seated behind sees spiders dancing frenetically over the keys.
up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down and up and down.
The viewers pulse is caused by conjured images of phantoms.
Ghosts bursting through the pipes.
The spiders curse at wrong stepping.
The viewers heartbeat continues.
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhoooooohhhhhhhhh the organs mouth wants to say and the player allows it.
The sound rises, escalates in motion through the belly of the pipe through the head of the player.
Church stands alone but for man and viewer.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Where the wild things are...

Some may say the wheel of fate turns. Fate, in my mind, does not exist. That is like saying an unstoppable hand pulls at my strings and moves my steps, says my words, thinks my thoughts- for me. Some situations we are in control of, some we are not. Sometimes it pays to take the leap, sometimes it does not. You cannot judge the outcome, you cannot see the future. You cannot live in what has already happened. Preachers are shit, i'm expressing. Agree or not. Walk or run. Laugh or cry. Yell or whisper. Do both at once? I don't know. I'm just a girl with a keyboard. I'm also a girl who has perfected Uma Thurman's Pulp Fiction twist.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Slurry Markets, why doth thou be on such a hot day!

Those damn fantastic markets are only on once a month, and as per usual i tramp along down there, possibly looking like a tamp in my denim cutoffs (which i think were mean for a 12year old...), black singlet and flanny i ripped the sleeves off, with damn old chains and to top it off my beautiful stanton bolwers hat. Oh and frilly socks and sequins shoes. Heh! Details, details details.
Although it was a smouldering 50billion degrees, i did manage to stumble about for an hour or two, frothing over everything and settling on barely anything.
The leather high waisted shorts were probably the best purchase i've made in a while. Leather festish is almost complete. Leather jacket, top, vest, shorts, skirt x2, i just need some pants! Sorry cows...

Although i didn't buy much else the shorts came in handy for the night, when i went to town on my dads old great calvin klein shirt that it midrifferised. And just generally tore apart. Look topped off by the boyfriends bright blue bow tie. Sweet action cats. Long night, stumbling out of sweaty 77 in the light of dawn. One of the best i've had in forever. No pictures though alack.

Yahar. No more poetry lately either. It comes to my head and i never have paper or a pen/pencil handy. Or the interwebs. No fun.