King Lear Tattoo

July 8, 2010 at 6:26 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 10 Comments
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behind the mirror shades
the zap of flash bulbs
three card slips into the back of the limo
exhales the long held breath

the Edgar engine purrs the street scene blurs
he drifts between the his the hearse
this strange and aweful awesome curse

where are we going to sweet Mamu
“when sudden lit beneath
a spotlight mooon,
he chuckles, wiggles
his Lear tattoo pay day
soon, accelerate,


Somewhere there.

April 8, 2009 at 6:30 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 8 Comments
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Reverse connecticon between F. as Walt Whitman, played by Ray Winstone making some careful entrance in grey finery and slipping somewhere near between is me. I had two hands become pick-a-card and the hang’d man made three.

the great and sad song of
earth turned against its will
recurs and  even trees tire
of their requirements
when one child aspires
to farthest branches and
one lies curled beneath

Hawaii Limo Exit.

March 30, 2009 at 6:15 pm | Posted in memoirs, poetry, writing | 7 Comments
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If you don’t play for high stakes it’s never more than jewellery and empty scented envelopes, she says.
Every story needs a bad guy, I just wanted it most.
Oh escapes some rounded sweet pink lips,
I’ve never been on a literal red carpet before.

You don’t spend five years inside for having a big mouth
without turning learning taking a trick or two hanging up the phone
stubbing out another obvious cigarette prop.
Never mind my dear his arm around her waist
and never fear, when backlit by a spotlight moon,

and Mamu accelerates away

The Agent.

February 5, 2009 at 6:56 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 14 Comments
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“various assorted ratbaggery,” he mumbles

his lips moving between smile and snarl,

woof up the curve of his spine it threw the back of his head

like some shaman troll’s horns slam fire spells.

“woof,” is this one for shearing? Or eating or just looking cute?

what did Carl say again? about the fictional insane

as some form of security stored in your jeans.

A Jewellery Poem

November 12, 2008 at 6:26 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 16 Comments
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various odd bods the jeweller said
slipping his card into my pocket
somewhere there the necessity
for radical departures
it’s a tiny jewel he said on
a later occassion, set in
mother of pearl a kiss by
Klimt fallen half-seen
into a sea of soft pink
skin trimmed
with white lace,

you are a hypocrite,

October 28, 2008 at 6:12 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 9 Comments
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Squires, what’s with all the smoke and mirrors.
Put your money on the table like the rest of us
you drunken bum. Tearing up the losing ticket,
this is the end of your lucky run
and out of the bible the gun appeared.

A puff of smoke, a rum, sit down old man,
for goodness sake the point is yet to come.

Everyone’s a winner, it’s a straight up guarantee cos
the value of these goods is not made by me he says
(a not so subtle highhat shuffle)
but always by the buyer, haha, bye bye tata,

entry point.

October 20, 2008 at 6:36 pm | Posted in writing | 11 Comments
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Unlike Voltaire and his practised mannerisms and De Sade who had the protection of real historical Lordly rights, unlike Genet learned in the sewerisms of Marseille, unlike these great men I have only myself to offer,
he says, tugging at my sleeve. I am sweating from the heat of the day having stepped off the plane only moments before. His name is Ari, of course and he became my constant companion though I never could tell quite how. He spoke some strange pattering language but had learned to quote great books from memory. Often I felt he had no idea of their meaning but found music in the tones through which he could express an understanding so we found Saudade in less than three hours.

She was standing at the window of the penthouse apartment in the Tokyo Montana Hotel, naked and the only sound is the whirr of the cameras and she moves with a slow momentum. “Cut. Lovely, dear,” says Sir Ian, “There’s no hurry.” And turns to me. “Welcome my friend. Are you ready?”

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