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Category: Poetry/prose

Old Clearing

Occasionally a bone would speck this clearing, relatively shiny white and new. Everythings relatively new, this old cattle ground is only old because it once was a cattle ground. It seems life and death is decided here quite often, it still is natures battleground. This clearing is nature now too, as ants cover it and logs, dispossessed – and emus in the early morning. Nature is monstrous, even on this dull cloudy grey day. Nature has birds singing and trees rustling. And a roo standing in the distance listening for… Read more Old Clearing


The truck rumbles passed I fumble the past. Memories trickling into the present. It’s time to keep walking. A change of pace or that my legs are sore.


Conquest, eeking out all over. It’s in me. I can’t get it off my skin. I can’t shake this feeling. Shattering any good I thought I had. As if that is what is good is bad. Good? Bad? Conquest is eeking out all over.


A gumnut branch still full of life rests on a broken tree A plastic bottle shines. Bones of ancients rest like the shoulders of our giants. A red roo the size of you stares me down the path. He watches for a moment, jumps away,  Thankful he let me pass. Shadows of skeletons rest on the sundried stump showing the suns strength. The blackened patterns on for the show, Stretch and shrink in length.  A pink seatless bicycle with shiny white tyres. No grips on the handlebars except two zip-ties. … Read more 28/02/2019

Beauty is Life

Beauty slaps it’s beating heart in my face.
Every day. Every day.
It’s blood splatters all over me and it falls into my hands.
I choose to put it on a pedestal 
For worship.

Because what is life without its beauty?
It’s dreary and not worth it.
What is beauty without life?
I don’t think it exists.
How do we even distinguish them?

Yeah, right….

I try to clear my mind before I leave for my walk. The walk doesn’t clear it either. I’m wearing a black shirt and the heat beats down on me insufferably, this must be what it’s like? So I take it off. My white skin will pay it’s retribution to the sun later. My black shirt was protecting my body from flies that begin to become a problem in the spring. So I put it back on, thank god I’m allowed to choose whether to wear it or not. That’s… Read more Yeah, right….

Big Jobs

The big jobs for the guys with big gobs. Up there in their ivory towers with glass ceilings. They glare up at the gods, envious. Green with envy and greed. Walking around with the tips of their flaccid penises hanging out of their flies. Ready to fuck the world. And there are flies everywhere! indicating the cesspit they reside in. Big Jobs for the guys with big gobs.