WELL DONE ELVIS

legs weak
as the UN

i walk slow
as human rights

to the park
green as the hulk

where a footy coach
dressed like tik tok

shouts well done elvis
with minimal cringe

at a toddler
small as a claymore

& i am hooded
like a looting racist 

but cos the suns low

like new year morale

& i smile
like jesus might

at a dog
looking sad as a mother

markings on his face
like forever tears

CAFE MADRIGAL 1 - STOCKHOLM ON TABLE 12

motormouth woman 

her mother & her husband 
held captive

beyond stockholm 

doing their job
they absorb her million words
like soft meat baffles

eating
in 
tolerant 
absent 
silence

saturday morning
table number 12

on number 10
i am in a bubble
with a mug of joe

waiting on something
to explode

from brisbanetimes.com.au

SPECIAL DIETARY NEEDS

guts
of
the
world
shifting

( guessing here )

angry wearing cement
burnt thru the bonnet
by chemical sanitation

soon
move
her
massive
mighty
bowels

( my opinion )

her self defence pepper spray
vs
our concrete underground car stack
equals
last youtube star

~

us-
too stuffed 
to
notice

too starving
to care

( every shade in between )

suffer a sad salad
for
a
day
atop a hill of bones

all of you

( except for 
  special dietary needs
  or religious holiday )

~

theres plastic clots
under the sunshine rug

our bitten mother
tied and 
whipped and 
wild and

she would knocks us down
for the hungry homeless animals

their silent worship wins

from foodbeast.com

DAMBUSTERS NATION MULTIPOPS 5

  does The City 
cram dirty cash IN 
the genocide holes 
    
       or 
  like a good catholic
     pull it OUT ?

~

    diamond industrys
  history & balls & escapology 
    
    was and is
    the perfect crime

~

clinging to a potted history
        of
   victory reruns

   we cheer at vindaloo

~

   mothers gone ibiza

now tie off your arm 
   with the apron strings

       in
       the
freeview tv hitler parade night

cecil rhodes pic from espressostalinist.com

JOHN LOCKE AND GEORGE HARRISON - CELL MATES !

dusty prison yard / gutters thick with clay from rain / football game marked out by torn red flags and boots dragged in the dirt

i move my sleeping bag and army stamped blankets away from the young mother / hungry for isolation / and from my new found half-brother / when ever i see him i say WHO'S YOUR DAD ?

half-brother - he's ugly / he's a flake / a looser

me and john locke got an escape plan / looping inner tubes in secret around the wooden walls

guards in the adobe hut in the south corner watching the game / the game is loud / the air wet with old rain / dust drying and rising / mens yells

theres a hiss like snakes / like a truck tire burst on a dirt road rock 

puncture 

i mend it best i can / the tubes are mixed with underpants and split rubber hose strung out in split strings like kids cheese

i use george harrisons guitar / twist it all back secure and inflated with the fretboard / george sees me from the goal line / stays quiet / realises its for the good of all

i move my sleeping bag and blankets back to the young mother 
and dim half-brother / full of regret and i apologise in tears

she cries too / he is sleeping / lazy / my narrow space next to the old pram still vacant

john locke looks on in scorn / beard grown bushy like a mountain man / uses mind tricks to make the three year old tap dance angrily on my chest / a warning . . .

i wake / a hungry cat is gently sliding
big
claws
down 
my 
cheeks

purring like he'll burst

from yalenusblog.com

PEOPLE -

rescue your exiled wonder
from
the
glass prism of opinion faces 
and diode creations
and
look
with
it
on
the crazy reaching trees
and
the mad half parts of worms
and
see
the black belts we buckled Mother with
and
the
folding window walls we raised 
to tease Her with us and us with Her
and
to
keep
Her warm soil hands off our ignored origins
so
we
might
pretend
to
be
more

outdoorscreens.com

SKYWALKER

he left the single story concrete building glad to be outside the modern steel frame doors.  it was autumn and it was cold.  a crowd of bodies flowed onto the black tarmac touched by evening ice.  
the path split around a flower bed and he took the lower path. it was quieter, he remembers the brief solitude walking by the bare rose shrubs.  it divided the crowd of bodies like white water.  
he doesnt remember the bag he had but he must have had one.  it had a new book in it the lady gave him and the home made bookmark.  
the crowd was as noisy as white water too.  he's eyes were pinned ahead like lamps looking out.  his head was filled with the new smells of the building, his eyes dim in the new dark from overlit corridors inside.  
and he was full with the surprise of survival, surprised its over, surprised he was allowed to leave.  he was alone in the crowd of bodies and it scared him.  his eyes looked out like lamps.
the bookmark he remembers.  the vivid and glossy blues and pinks. cut from the front of a humorous greeting card it was the police pulling a drunk over under a huge pink elephant in the blue black night sky.  
the more he remembers it the more it tries to fade.  the details fade.  exactly what the joke was he didnt know then and doesnt know now. 
he sees his mother waiting with other mothers.  she has a long coat on, maybe a dull itchy pink.  he remembers the fabric and the fibres thin and silvery poking out.  he rushes up to her and hes holding the book mark.  it seems important.  he shows her the book in his satchel too.  the bag - its a satchel.  he remembers now.  but not what the book was.
he doesnt remember talking to any kids or anything else that happened.  just the early dark and the bookmark and how all the other kids were talking about star wars.  
he hadnt seen it.  
he'd never heard of it and in his wildest imagination he could not comprehend what a skywalker was but it seemed really really good and i wanted to be one.