Monday, September 27, 2010

Dyad

Sitting being illuminated by the lights
Of fragilely incandescent lives
Heart warmth
Does to my limbs take
And to my mind
Where the malfunctioning government
Is overthrown by anarchistic JOY
And swept away
Are the bodies of so many memories
Which have festered for far too long
Their influence dies
And they recede like heavy waves
That sink into the dark blue subconscious
Whilst on the beach revels take place
Bacchus is invoked!

But those lights flicker
As they return to their domains
Returning me to mine
‘Til only pinpricks of light
Can be seen pieced in the black curtain
Of our space

Though one light always remains
An ever-present memory-ghost light
Whose quality has waned
From sunrise to void night
Once resplendent in warmth,
It now is the morose chill of the dark
It is a dull throb in everything

That spectre shall once again transmute
Maybe dissipate slightly
All things are transient
This night will end
With beautifully warm obliterating light

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Relinquish


You won’t get back your seed
My skin will not part
A dismantled piece of art
My trapped body will not your psyche feed
Relinquish
And let us
Both
Be
Free

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Socialisation


Society always wins
The acceptance of change
Will always seem strange,
When everything here is sins
It's society's stage
That fills me with rage
That society always wins

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Poetry Attempts #1


Sky Sex
Volumptuous rainclouds
Seduce the clear blue sky
Sensuously daubing
The azure body
With swirling grey
Lustful fingers claw
Leaving tumultuous marks,
Crisscrossing weals
Impinging on infinite skin,
The sky weeps,
Tears of joy
And revulsion

Trains
We wait;
Separately towering over
Repeated channels sheared
Through life;
For industrial man’s engine
To carry us on

Shouted conversation
Distracts my eyes
From seeing;
A browning lattice plant,
The death totem
Or
My platform vacuum,
Filled with weeping thought
Or
Bags of meat
That ooze strange putrefying liquids
That revolt me
But they are
Mana for bugs

Rattling
Anticipation
The train approaches
Halts
Doors open
A body sits inside
You and I are passengers

Fear!
(Of mystery)
But the
Attraction
Of novelty
Wins

(Besides,
Curiosity only kills cats)


Wednesday, September 8, 2010

August: Osage County, Literary Edition

A self-indulgent, poorly written, poor parody based off one line in August: Osage County dragged out to immesurable lengths in some form of masochism. Enjoy!  

Violet: Whaddya know about life on these plains? Whaddya know about Hard Times?

Barbara: Why are you yelling at us? We know that Hard Times is a novel published serially by Charles Dickens in an attempt to improve the flagging sales of his periodical. 

Violet: You do not know! You do not KNOW! It was written as a scathing assault on the utilitarian ideology of the Victorian era. [points to Mattie Fae] This woman. This woman saved me from one of my mother's many gentlemen callers by giving me an example of Louisa's latent intrinsic capability to experience emotion. She still has the paper-cuts on her hands from flicking through the novel to find the exact quote!

Barbara: We know you had a rotten childhood Mum. Who didn't?

Violet: You did not! You CANNOT know! None of you know what it's like to immerse yourself in a textual analysis of one of the greatest pieces of literature of our time, 'cept this woman right here and that man we buried today. Sweet girl, sweet Barbara, my heart breaks for every quote that you had to memorise. I wish I coulda recited them for you; Gradgrind was an "eminently practical man" described as being overwhelmingly 'square' in appearance; Bitzer's lack of soul is symbolised in his "unnatural" complexion that looks like if he "were cut he would bleed white". But if you think for a solitary second you can fathom the pain your father endured in his natural life, you've got another thing coming. Do you know what your father had to do from about age 4 to age 10? Do you?

(no one responds)

Do you?!

Barbara: No

Karen: No

Violet: Collect scraps and pages and cobble them together to gather a whole text that he'd be able to use later in his school life. With his mother and father! Crawling around classrooms, whilst the classes were still there and the teacher was calling the police, to pick up scraps of fucking paper. Now what do you want to say about your rotten childhood? Obviously it wasn't as bad as that of the Gradgrind children!
That's the crux of the biscuit: we knew nothing at all and then learned too much. We learnt everything about Hard Times, so that we could pass that knowledge on. Your father and I were the first in our families to even read Hard Times! And he wound up an award winning poet! You girls, given a college education (which was taken for granted no doubt), couldn't even analyse your way out of a paper bag! What theories have you thought up on that novel? What about you? Who are you? Jesus! If you worked as hard as us you've found the meaning of life in that book!

Barbara: Why are you yelling at us? Hard Times is clearly a two dimensional novel with symbolism painted thinnly over the top.

Violet: Just time we had some truths told 'round here's all. 

Apologies to Tracey Letts

Monday, September 6, 2010

Australia Realises Wait For New Government Actually Just Wait For More Disappointment

The possibility of Australia's hung parliament being resolved by tomorrow has many citizens celebrating the end of what has been considered a disappointing election all-round. An election was called shortly after the ascension of Julia Gillard to the leadership of the Labor Party, securing herself the 'Prime Minister'-ship (as well as the Prime Minister Ship; a specially design yacht used for relaxation by every Prime Minister since 1956).

With approval ratings for Labor soaring to brush the underside of the moon in comparison to those of the Coalition it appeared to be a sound political move to signal an election. However a series of leaks from the Labor Party-Room (woo!), which would have sunk Noah's ark, in combination with an all-round sub-par election campaign run by both major parties, the playing field was soon levelled.

"It was an incredibly poorly timed move. It's just like moving your Queen easily within reach of a Knight!" exclaimed chess enthusiast and unqualified political commentator, Jakob Tines.

"It was as if only Labor had a Queen and then the Liberals took it!" he continued, blithely unaware that a game of chess can, in fact, be won without the use of the Queen (Ed: Though it helps immensely).

When the deliciously uninformed Australian people went to the polls on Saturday 21st August 2010 a hung parliament was the result. For any of those readers who have apparently been able to avoid the general media excitement over this fact, a hung parliament is a term given to a parliament where neither the Liberals or Labor hold the majority number of 76 seats. Additionally those disenchanted with the state of Australian politics also hang themselves in the event of a hung parliament, further defining the name. In such a case the major parties are forced to woo the independent candidates like a nervous teenager embarking on a date with someone who may just help them lose their making a majority in government virginity.

Apparently unable to choose between the carbon copies that are the Liberal and Labor parties, the three country independents have been stricken with indecision.
"It's hard to choose," petulantly whined Tony Windsor "On one hand we have media attention on us for an extended period of time; which I love, might I add. And on the other the formation of a government and we fade back into relative obscurity...".

The effects of the childish indecision of the independents has once again reignited a gravely misplaced interest in the state of Australian politics, and only now do we begin to see the effects.

"Hang on a second!" said Tobias Hurtly, whilst watching the television set, "Once those guys decide we just end up with a disappointing government just like before."

"Man, I gotta tell someone." he whispered under his breath, imagining he was part of a political thrilled novel.

In other parts of the population similar discoveries were being made pointing to a dystopic future society where politics is little more than choosing between different names for the same thing on a ballot sheet.

"If the Abbott government gets in," said spokesperson for the Labor centre-very-extremely-slightly-left moderates, "He'll be just slightly too right wing in comparison to Julia Gillard"

The oh-so-very-close-to-the-centre-but-still-a-little-right Liberals spokesperson echoed a complementary statement. "If Gillard gets in she'll be just a smidgen too far to the left", he said as if needing to rearrange his mantlepiece.

"An offshore processing plant in somewhere that's not Nauru? She's basically a Communist!" he nonsensically added.

I asked professional political commentator and misanthrope John Keston about what he considered the views of the more extreme conservatives and liberals to be. "None of them are happy about any government getting in," he explained.

"Don't even get me started," he snapped when prompted for more information.

But what does the general public think?

"It's a little bit shit isn't it?"

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Blogging Agitates Psyche

The fragile psyche of a local blogger has been shattered as various aspects of his psychology quibble over what has been dubbed the 'Blogger's Dilemma'; a conflict between the frequency and quality of blog posts complicated by the lack of editing and motivation.

The Freudian psychological aspect of the Super-Ego was first to weigh in, preaching to the mind about how "This was just a really bad idea. You should never do it again. You must leave your blog to decompose on the internet."

"Just hide it behind the pictures of funny cats and no-one will ever notice" the possibly non-existent facet of the human conciousness added, revealing its incomprehension of the mechanics of the internet.

The Ego, a qualified psychological analyst and mediator, dejected described the Super-Ego as being "typically impossible" as it "maintains its track record as being the habitual 'brick wall'" that blocks any true progress.

Instead the mediating component of the incomprehensible human mind proposed some form of regular schedule which could be followed in order to maintain productive creative output. In response, the cognitive aspect formed from society's overriding pressures to conform, viciously denied the efficacy of any such plan describing it as "a gross overestimation" of the individual's capabilities to string together a group of words into sentences or "those vile attempts at poetry".

In both their statements the Super-Ego and Ego alike overlooked the oft outspoken Id. When questioned the Ego slandered the animal part of the psyche as being "an incomprehensible little shit that thinks only about two things" and questioning why it even attempts to attain compromises between the Id and Super-Ego.

The Super-Ego stated that it wasn't in talks with the Id because it [the Super-Ego] "never talks to anyone" saying that it was "breaking [its] major rule" in talking to your reporter revealing that it "only deals in constantly yammering 'No'" and only made an exception as a plot device.

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" it added

Righting the journalistic balance comes the statement from the Id. In an uncharacteristic moment of lucidity it began "Well I believe that blogging truly is part of the new media and that consequently..." but then the refined eloquence quickly disappeared.

"IhavelookedintothevoidandIhaveseentheendofallthingswhichliveandmustdie. Yourblogreadersdontcount.Theywilldie.Whydontyoukillthem?Fightsociety. Kill. Walknakedandfuckinthestreets." it disturbingly continued.

Another 3 hours of insane and unsettling monologue this reporter understood the reluctance of the Super-Ego and Ego to enter negotiations with the animalistic drives of humanity.

Despite the three competing views, ultimately their interface that lies upon the individual's self-concept will demonstrate the ultimate result. Though in this reporter's opinion it will take time for any form of expression to occur.