Thursday, December 30, 2004
A Poem for a Thursday
I felt uneasy at the party where all the girls
had 'partners' not boy friends.
I wondered what the difference was,
and why the desperate need to differentiate.
These girls bought wine based upon the commercials
not the taste.
So the supposed Diamond Days
just, well, weren't.
Garbage bins full of Christmas cheer,
aren't so cheerful when they are emptied at 5.30am.
had 'partners' not boy friends.
I wondered what the difference was,
and why the desperate need to differentiate.
These girls bought wine based upon the commercials
not the taste.
So the supposed Diamond Days
just, well, weren't.
Garbage bins full of Christmas cheer,
aren't so cheerful when they are emptied at 5.30am.
Friday, December 17, 2004
A Poem for the Week before Christmas
I'm sick of Christmas
but I'm no Grinch, nor Scrooge -
I'm just a girl.
Gridlock in the land of despair,
shelves empty
all because little Jaidyn and Taylah's Mum
can't say no.
but I'm no Grinch, nor Scrooge -
I'm just a girl.
Gridlock in the land of despair,
shelves empty
all because little Jaidyn and Taylah's Mum
can't say no.
Monday, December 13, 2004
A Poem For A Monday
One Audrey in Brisbane
The other somewhere cruising at 25,000 feet
I hope business class is kinder
than budget airlines
Is no seat allocation
the new direction
towards a classless society?
I say blah to that and bring me
my Champers and all I can eat peanuts.
The other somewhere cruising at 25,000 feet
I hope business class is kinder
than budget airlines
Is no seat allocation
the new direction
towards a classless society?
I say blah to that and bring me
my Champers and all I can eat peanuts.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
A Poem for a Saturday
Stained strained brazen hazy
the last kiss of wisdom
that got pulled out with my teeth
at 3pm the day after.
Kissing kissing kissing
and messing about in boats.
It's not half worthwhile
but I wish I could be there
today and tomorrow.
the last kiss of wisdom
that got pulled out with my teeth
at 3pm the day after.
Kissing kissing kissing
and messing about in boats.
It's not half worthwhile
but I wish I could be there
today and tomorrow.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
A poem for a Friday
Pulling all nighters til I correct the error of years' disarray
Have I forsaken a glamorous career of
black bedecked academia
chainsmoking Lucky Strikes
drinking countless macchiatos
and glasses of mid priced shiraz
at B-Bar
Do I want to be one of them?
Can I aspire to fabulousness?
Or am I destined for ordinaryness
or still worse, mediocrity?
Barefoot in Highton
with a headful of crazy talk
and more importantly, persiflage.
Have I forsaken a glamorous career of
black bedecked academia
chainsmoking Lucky Strikes
drinking countless macchiatos
and glasses of mid priced shiraz
at B-Bar
Do I want to be one of them?
Can I aspire to fabulousness?
Or am I destined for ordinaryness
or still worse, mediocrity?
Barefoot in Highton
with a headful of crazy talk
and more importantly, persiflage.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
A poem for a Wednesday
Fuck is good
Fuck is bad
Fuck is ace
Fuck is rad
Fuck is golden
Fuck is black
Fuck is silver
Fuck is wak
Fuck is gay
Fuck is straight
Fuck is early
Fuck is late
Fuck is sullied
Fuck is plucked
Fuck is rooted
Fuck is fucked.
Fuck is bad
Fuck is ace
Fuck is rad
Fuck is golden
Fuck is black
Fuck is silver
Fuck is wak
Fuck is gay
Fuck is straight
Fuck is early
Fuck is late
Fuck is sullied
Fuck is plucked
Fuck is rooted
Fuck is fucked.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Another poem for a tuesday
My bus is late
The bus driver is hot
His bright smile
and beautiful forearms
are delicious.
His sideburns are very distracting
But then my mind starts to wander
... and then run
I'm scared of Quantum Mechanics
I don't want there to be parallel
alternate
universes
Suppose something goes wrong
and things get entwined
I don't want to meet
Doppellganger
Bizarro
me
The bus driver is hot
His bright smile
and beautiful forearms
are delicious.
His sideburns are very distracting
But then my mind starts to wander
... and then run
I'm scared of Quantum Mechanics
I don't want there to be parallel
alternate
universes
Suppose something goes wrong
and things get entwined
I don't want to meet
Doppellganger
Bizarro
me
A poem for a Tuesday
Open window
Wind and rainbows
Rain and greyness
Grey pyjamas
Jam and warm toast
Warmth on bare toes
Barely perfect
Pearl acrylics
Crystal poems
Poe and Byron
By the way it's
Way past too late
Too much hair spray
Hairy highways
High adventures
Vents and censure
Cents and dollars
Dolls and lawyers
Lores and folktales
folks and coat tails
coaches' emails
easy essays
essence of days
often good for
good escapades.
Paid-for studies,
student worries
woeful student:
stupid thesis.
Wind and rainbows
Rain and greyness
Grey pyjamas
Jam and warm toast
Warmth on bare toes
Barely perfect
Pearl acrylics
Crystal poems
Poe and Byron
By the way it's
Way past too late
Too much hair spray
Hairy highways
High adventures
Vents and censure
Cents and dollars
Dolls and lawyers
Lores and folktales
folks and coat tails
coaches' emails
easy essays
essence of days
often good for
good escapades.
Paid-for studies,
student worries
woeful student:
stupid thesis.
Monday, December 06, 2004
A poem for a monday
His cat is dead
He thought his sister was making a jest
When she called to tell him to bring a shovel
Fingers blistered
A packet of Sunburst lollies,
minimum chips
and a 6 pack of Carlsbergs
A wake for the gone
I hope there is a Cat Heaven.
He thought his sister was making a jest
When she called to tell him to bring a shovel
Fingers blistered
A packet of Sunburst lollies,
minimum chips
and a 6 pack of Carlsbergs
A wake for the gone
I hope there is a Cat Heaven.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
A poem for a Sunday
Morning of the Sunday kind,
Brings sun shiny and the imminence of Mondayitis
Too many Cougars and Dry
and Boags
Video Shits is on tv
Where is the pop paradise of my vanquished youth?
Brings sun shiny and the imminence of Mondayitis
Too many Cougars and Dry
and Boags
Video Shits is on tv
Where is the pop paradise of my vanquished youth?
Saturday, December 04, 2004
A Poem for a Saturday
the germans have left
for the love parade
in 6/8 time on
a saturday full of sandwiches
and the T.S. Eliot of a thousand
stranded nightmares
bites the head off a drinking impala
like a croc hidden in the mud
for the love parade
in 6/8 time on
a saturday full of sandwiches
and the T.S. Eliot of a thousand
stranded nightmares
bites the head off a drinking impala
like a croc hidden in the mud
Friday, December 03, 2004
A poem for a Friday
Carefully removing my Philip Treacy
I tried to remain focussed upon
My goal of obtaining
A pair of Patrick Cox pumps
that wouldn't be too painful
in the Birdcage.
I tried to remain focussed upon
My goal of obtaining
A pair of Patrick Cox pumps
that wouldn't be too painful
in the Birdcage.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The Cat Writes a Poem
The cat is the ultimate bitch. She just sluts around the neighbourhood all day and then pisses and moans whilst dragging mud through the house. Last time we got her to write a poem she went and pressed Apple+Q. This is Take Two.
Cat's Poem
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aqWAWSAWQ
w 23 er j46tyf
Cat's Poem
wewwrf
aqWAWSAWQ
w 23 er j46tyf
Something Funny
We think that you don't need a whole team of indie tosspots to run a publishing company. You just ask your friends to write lame poetry for your blog and, voila, it's done. So that's what we are starting tonight. Unlike other publishing cooperatives that we have learnt about recently (that have received extortionate grants from student associations) ours is not going to take a YEAR to publish anything. We're thinking that it will only take five minutes for us to provide excellent reading online for you all. No team of editors, no poncy bio's, no faffing on. Let's expose the myth that publishing is precious. It's not hard, you know. It's fucking easy. We're doing it right now while we watch The Apprentice. So take your grant... we hope something comes of it, ya fakers.
