in the absence of war

November 11, 2009 at 6:49 pm | Posted in blogging, writing | 14 Comments
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and idling with neither provocation nor criticism, two things will result. An attempt to escape into fantasy or the creation of some utopia in which everyone can say whatever they want and everybody can listen to whoever they want. It is however a dangerous idea. It would involve making a distinction between a representative democracy and a democracy. You end up in anarchy, a temper tantrum of Shakespearean proportions, a whirlpool of emotion.

At some point self-censorship is required. This is in order to preserve the species. Morality is, at its heart, born of necessity. It does not require any God. It is a simple choice to act or to be acted upon. And the only stasis is death. Cold and brittle. There is no honour in victory he coughs, only in struggle. And the primary struggle is with the language. It is slippery and disobedient. And sometimes I do enjoy a good full stop.


different senses, different shoes

November 3, 2009 at 8:03 pm | Posted in writing | 10 Comments
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unless you are a practioner of the dark arts emerging
schmooze leadened sense
from Bowen Hills
highhat bass and most important
esoteric referensh
perhaps in sullen sluggish chains led
regretful wriggling uncomfortable on its claws
look for two most
unexpected arrivals
rival twice
then be gone

Some designed to

April 20, 2009 at 6:26 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, memoirs, poetry, writing | 10 Comments
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deliberately upset.  But between that arrogance
of deliberate line and odd smattering obscenity
is some kind of allure or power to transmit ideas
like it or not, poetry has a point which is communication
not the mere chucking of abstract syllables
at a wall

lets begin with something fundamental, that there is common human truths these days is a radical proposition, and dare forbid you should express such things using rhyme and overt meter whose origin was memory, rhythm, seasons, language was made to record things. The ability to express oneself is accidental. It is a tool and there are some who prefer it blunt.

Ideas above your station,

December 8, 2008 at 6:17 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 10 Comments
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vast slowtumbling caravan
cascades filling the sky
with imminent drama,
pink and grey some
obvious stockman charade,

you don’t need god to be good
son or a piece of shop-bought
tinsel draped on some dying tree

you see the sky boy,
now run inside there
and get your mum,

we create ourselves

October 29, 2008 at 6:32 pm | Posted in blogging, writing | 15 Comments
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will always be a fundamental point of difference between two sides. One wonders if there is any point even in them discussing it. It should be pointed out however that I am intrigued perpetually by sentences which turn in the middle for some reason. (the question is one of motive force, why, we should make a technical point here.)
Perhaps it is our future selves which create our wierd destinies, lead us into the future through fantasies of dance and dreams and half forgotten memories. If time is not linear one does not need to be able to predict the future nor plan for the most outrageous of outcomes. It is a scarey thought, that is what Alan Watts did not predict.
The two sides manifest sometimes in debates about how many divisions have occurred to this point and what caused the sudden frightening drops in temperature which he had taken to calling sub drop. It was some strange in-joke shared only by F. and some memory he had of himself standing at a rock face with nothing other than ochre and the fire behind him with the laughter of children, placing his hand on the cold and lifeless stone and leaving a mark by which he could be followed.

If I Was (1)

August 19, 2008 at 6:30 pm | Posted in music | 21 Comments
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Penn and Teller, well I’ld make my own links, backwards. Writing a novel’s not hard. I’ld start with an ending and being me, a happy one, why not, it’s a fifty fifty shot from here and if I’m choosing my destiny instead of being blown about by any tide into whatsoever whirlpool I would choose at least to be a little happier coming out. So now who would I have to be, to be that man happy to have been, those qualities I will find in him, a story of becoming and because he is not saving the world, merely exercising his fundamental right to the pursuit of happiness, he will not need to be a superhero. Now if I become that man and write that story it will end with me sitting on a balcony next to a most beautiful woman who I may not even have seen, since how she looks becomes fundamentally unimportant when I am blinded by the light of the sun reflecting from the ocean spiralling up through the valley alive with energy, some sleeping and others laughing, some dancing and many merely pondering the miracle of existence, exu, I would tell that story backwards as did you,

and the seven seas,

April 1, 2008 at 5:57 pm | Posted in podcast, writing | 20 Comments
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so i said to this bloke, look, i really don’t give a fat rat’s arse, oh sorry, hello, he says hanging up the phone, i don’t have long, have a seat, what i wanted to do was to tell you a story but this story has no plot, cold, waitingempty and deep. it has no characters because it does not involve a redemption, there is an ending however, everything changes.
originally of course it was not possible to imagine individual survival, there was only the community, they were antlike without imagination later becoming bees communicating through dance and creating a surplus in cahoots with flowers, then one of them heard himself speak,
since then there’s been all sorts of varieties of imagining oneself in a better world, mythodologies, some more effective and others more beautiful,
excuse me, a moment, he said, answering the phone, no, sorry, he’s not here, everybodies looking for something, i never met Annie Lennox, he said to me, now what was it you wanted?

(just for something to do i have podcasted this one here)

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