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Tag Archives: poem
at the ballet.
sour faced cheque book convertible driving have you paid the cleaner? panty-hosed-golden-wristed dollar bill fisted sisters red nailed failures of beauty. -jw
dichotomic.
sitting on the couch watching the aussie open on television tomas berdych is playing novak djokovic it’s quite a good game of tennis djokovic was on top then berdych made a spirited comeback in the second set before djokovic’s class … Continue reading
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Tagged blog, carrot sticks, derren brown, poem, poetry, sex, tennis, writing
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swings in the wind.
lying on your black yoga mat in the wind on a wealthy hill looking over sydney harbour. you said you used to ride your motorbike here when you were sad. eating vegan chocolate raspberry slice from your cafe an old … Continue reading
simple words for a complex thing.
rarely does the right leaf fall to the ground who lost the skies, from pure seeds pure trees grow tall and in confusion darkness lies. simple words for a complex thing all we’re given is all that we need, two … Continue reading
float fall bloom blot dance fuck taste learn.
(float) like dust off the moon’s silver shoes. (fall) like a white-hot meteor pummeling the earth trading mercy for pleasure. (bloom) every colour’s dream. (blot) the pad of a poet’s lost truth. (dance) with the devil’s fiancé. (fuck) a pregnant … Continue reading
drift weightless.
fall gently upon black lace moon’s thigh. drift weightless in transparent silver dresses together. float like fresh air mountain lion’s roar cracks. torn earth receives gravity’s fear today. light falls in the wind warm from the sun’s pulse. worn desert sands … Continue reading
hungover insights into the deep recesses of a shallow world.
strolling through st kilda east, a warm melbourne spring morning. a certain nostalgic, ambient romance gently permeates my human sensibilities. the smell of pink virginal blossom floats jovially – the city is stretching, rubbing its eyes and optimistically contemplating the … Continue reading
robin print dress.
old lady of chapel street wise eyes that have never lied (hiding) beneath the table place your head gently on my lap and remind me that I am alone. (thrown bones) soft lover, hater of nothing you are a teacher … Continue reading
give me one reason to stay here.
purple jacket of private school youth with golden badges and no hair product plays chess with his mum whilst eating a croissant and drinking a hot chocolate which he didn’t finish. my mum always refused my chess requests. eating a salmon bagel … Continue reading
vaginas are boring.
vaginas in the young night green-light-flesh-reflected i’m sure it’s firm and tender but it’s nothing i haven’t felt before. vaginas grouped together tight in lost evenings of youth expected dressed up and down for town nubile ass on display the … Continue reading
friday morning.
the rain falls reluctantly, as if the ground once broke its heart. voices fill the halls, lost voices that know no better. jazz makes its way, whatever way it wants. melbourne’s sky smiles grey, electric fires burn not too hot … Continue reading
awake in the dark.
jetlag mixed with daylight savingstoo lazy to get uppissing in a bottle. -jw
Posted in life
Tagged awake in the dark, day light savings, haiku, poem, poetry, words, writing
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cafe mornings.
“Something that my hypnotherapist said…” I want not for your world absurd, watches, cufflinks and leather. Keep your perfectly ironed starched striped shirts that don’t enjoy the weather. “I think arrogance is healthy…” High profile campaigns will always wane … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged cafe culture, conversations, eves dropping, melbourne, people, poem, poetry, prahran, prose, st edmonds, words, writing
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kerouac – american haiku
in the morning frost the cats step slowly. beautiful young girls running up the library steps with shorts on.
money, not jesus
following homeless man taking loose steps down footpath playing the blues on his harmonica.. he’s wearing a blue Ford jumper stops to survey the damage on a blue Ford. Keeps on with the blues stopping at every metallic pole … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged 3181, art, church, crucifiction, digital art, dollars, jesus, melbourne, money, park, poem, poetry, prahran, son of god, stonnington
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Rilke.
From ‘The Sonnets to Orpheus’ By Rainer Maria Rilke – translated by stephen mitchell. Look at the flowers, so faithful to what is earthly, to whom we lend fate from the very border of fate. And if they are sad … Continue reading
a dollar sixty.
knuckles down against the street praying for change to keep things the same whilst his friends watch on. he’s collecting coins for everyone. I ask him for a portrait, he throws up two peace signs. I wonder if he’s been … Continue reading
spanish mystery.
I don’t know you very well; in fact, I don’t really know you at all. These are not emotional thoughts. They are words of appreciation and celebration of a woman who has occupied an unusual area of my conscious for … Continue reading
1.10am
it’s getting late’ish for a work night it was very hot yesterday with electrical storms but cold’ish today and now warm tonight. Melbourne weather. The fan on my desk is blowing around the three tags that hang from the three … Continue reading
existential halloween.
drunk hellos fall on deaf ears full of noise what’s the point point? boom boom boom small talk is small haaa haaaa haaa you can’t see imperfections in the dark… -jw
indulgence.
moments of animalistic bliss where our bodies collide she was screaming things like FUCK, SHIT, JESUS & OH MY FUCKING GOD loud enough for people on the street to hear everything i thought they might call the cops found … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged chapel street, halloween, hungry jacks, poem, poetry, prahran, sex, subway, words, writing
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one of those things…
how can i how can i do it how can i see and absorb everything life has to offer how can i channel every beautiful thing every beautiful song, every book, poem, beautiful woman, beautiful painting beautiful photo, beautiful person, … Continue reading
lonely diamond.
You’re every part my poet princess and truly an artist with the most profound creative gifts of all: the ability to feel and the freedom to express yourself. trust in your instincts and visceral visions, channel them all into your … Continue reading
love you not.
In our backward world, money and greed have become power, but from its casted shadow grows a plastic flower and all the petals love you not. - jw
Posted in life
Tagged flower, ideas, photography, poem, poetry, words, writers, writing
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taxi driver
my friend called me a V.I.P taxi…. which means you get leather seats and magazines. it’s kinda funny. but they’re also very clean and they come quickly and buzz your apartment door.. I told TD (taxi driver) that … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged melbourne, poem, poetry, taxi, taxi drive, unwritten law, words, writers, writing
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