The stream (all workshops)
If u want to fuck, just say you want to fuck.
If u don't want to fuck, then excuse me, you don't have a knack for a fuck.
But if u could fuck. With who would you fuck.
I am addicted to the fuck. So excuse my language, because I'd like to
fuck.
Did I hurt you?
Do you still think about me, the way I do about you?
You infest my every thought, and lurk around the corners of my mind, with your green eyes flashing like headlights in the shadows.
I can see you now, stretched out cross- legged, and leaned back in the center of me, as comfortable as one would be in their own home.
Do you realize how much space you’ve taken up?
Every time I go somewhere
and drive around a little bit
there it sits each time, I swear
each made for different a fit.
A single shoe, just one lone shoe
in the middle of the road;
White, black, red or even blue.
sitting there like a lost toad.
But not in the same highway
just random roads to random places.
I wonder what each one might say
if their tongues could talk through their tied laces.
As I read the words written between the lines,
I hear the thoughts hidden between the words,
So wait a minute measuring the passage of time,
While our reason crystallises out from fluids absurd.
Concepts and symbols align relativities of meaning,
With their lines of thought still occluded in stealth,
While fluctuations distort facts whilst day-dreamsing,
The passive observer questions their mental health.
Long hot summer nights when we were young,
Girls were so pretty, ballads were sung.
Where have they gone, those soft balmy nights?
When we lay together in the fires sparkling light.
Through wide open eyes I stare through times mist
To the places we lay, embraced and kissed,
Caressed and loved by the firelights glow,
All friends together, where did they go?
Soft ball
A game of choice
With moving arms and legs
Showing talent and learned skills
My sport
It happened suddenly on that day anew
When the tree feller slipped on the morning dew
With his arms aloft and the chainsaw revving
He butchered a young trainee named Kevin
The trainee made a grimace
As the chainsaw cleaved his face
He looked helpless standing there
With his eyeball flying through the air
LOTS AND LOTS OF THRILLS AND SPILLS
ON THAT FATEFUL DAY...AT THE SAWMILLS!
And then in the car park a passer-by
Happened to slip upon the eye
Into the boss's mean machine
My grandmother is alive
in black and white, perpetual life
in holy photographs that have
slipped through hands,
and years,
and brief visits back in time -
a breeze resting on her porch,
a white apron on her clothesline,
an aged hand dancing with her fountain
pen, playing with my name.
Her dark eyes sometimes spoke
of her passing melancholy.
Yet, like a sequence of soft echoes,
her voice showed little sadness.
With the spiritual abilities of infinite energy,
Contained within the universes unique soul,
Released through connections of synchronicity,
Uniting our essence to the divine whole.
Mental communication to unknown galaxies,
Cosmic telepathic shamanic and refined,
Unravelling the cosmic lifeforces complexity,
Through questioning a uniquely subtle sublime.
I can’t tell you
about the mess we’ve made
though the walls couldn’t speak
i could feel their pressing gaze
now i wait for the end
with my chest held down
and eyes laden
by more than just gravity
I think,
we have done no wrong
but my mouth tastes of metal
and this crown weighs heavily
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