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Tag Archives: poetry
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
collaboration.
Sitting around with the violently skilful Conrad Bizjak, whilst he improvised some drawings from my words and ideas i was making up as we went along. Super fun. Check out more of his work here: conradbizjak.org.
innocent when you dream.
tom waits is singing about new orleans on youtube. there is an obese black woman on the muted television wearing an azure moomoo. i cannot think of the word moomoo without thinking of the simpsons episode when homer gets really … Continue reading
invisible.
does nectar taste less sweet in a dream? a mirage is paradise if it makes you believe. answers don’t need questions to survive. i am invisible through ignorant eyes. -jw.
jack kerouac – lonesome traveller.
Excellent read. Wild loose erratic observant sensitive spontaneous poetic prose.
Posted in life
Tagged american literature, beat, bookclub, jack kerouac, literature, lonesome traveller, poetry, prose, words, writers, writing
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nabar exist.
Waiting for the G train green line on the map from Queens to Brooklyn to get on the blue line A train to change onto the C at Utica Avenue en-route to the Air-Train at Howard Beach then to terminal … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged art, new york, people, photography, photos, poetry, portraiture, prose, stream of conscious, subway, travel, words, writers, writing
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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.
book club: american literature.
I’m beginning to have difficulties recalling the books I’ve read over the last few years, so I’m compiling a list of texts I can remember reading and can recommend – for my own posterity if nothing else. I thought … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged a farewell to arms, a separate reality, allen ginsberg, american lit, american literature, american psycho, art, beautiful losers, bob dylan chron, book covers, books, breakfast at tiffany's, bret easton ellis, cannery row, carlos castaneda, cat's cradle, catcher in the rye, classic, classics, cover, cover art, east of eden, ernest hemingway, famous, famous books, fear and loathing in las vegas, for whom the bell tolls, harper lee, hell's angels, hunter s. thompson, images of book covers, j d salinger, jack kerouac, jim morrison, john steinbeck, junkie, junky, just kids, kingdom of fear, kurt vonnegut, leonard cohen, light my fire, literature, lyrics, of mice and men, on the road the orin, patti smith, photos of book covers, picture, poetry, prose, ray manzarek, robert mapplethorpe, slaughter house five, the doors, the grapes of wrath, the old man and the sea, the pearl, the sun also rises, the teachings of don juan: a yaqui way of knowledge, the yage letters, to kill a mockingbird, tortilla flat, truman capote, william burroughs, william lee, words, writers, writing
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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
quick service, great chicken.
drunk cans on train and saw angels who see in sepia bikers with beards beers & flavoured cigarettes talked art with artists in alleyways of melbourne old office chair dope 1960′s holden wagon her art was on the walls … Continue reading
dear resident..
wolfmother is playing on the stereo something about another dimension i thought their music sounded a bit formulaic but conrad reckons their other albums are quite different. he’s oil painting a photo i took of him that night and saying … Continue reading
can’t stay
friends opened hot dog joint on greville street courtyard around smokey fire synthetic cannabis called “chronic” bathtub full of ice n beers usual shit was talked jem was on fine form as always military jacket government sponsored laughs were shared … Continue reading
notifications.
oh look a little red square with a small one inside it just appeared on my screen… how exciting!! i wonder what this means? oh…it’s just an event invite from a stranger to a shit party in another city… little … Continue reading
enthusiasm
i told her if she rolled a joint id brave the cold and go watch curb at her place.
the robot diaries: day one
not programmed to love.
Posted in life
Tagged art, dialogue, experimental, melancholic, poetry, robot, sound, words, writing
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kerouac.
interview and book reading over some lazy, jazzy piano by steve allen. brilliant. beautiful.
Posted in life
Tagged jack kerouac, jazz, literature, music, on the road, poetry, reading, writing
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frederik from..
personalgiggle is a great writer. Disappointment is a hilarious article.
chalk
i had a dream i was at my old primary school in the asphalt playground where we used to play handball an old lover of mine had been there and drawn beautiful images all over the ground with chalk just … 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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it’s sunday..
I’m a bit hungover and learning this song seems like a good idea. It starts about one minute and forty seconds in, after his spoken word piece: I wana tell you about texas radio and the big beat. It comes … Continue reading
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
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Tagged melbourne, poem, poetry, taxi, taxi drive, unwritten law, words, writers, writing
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friday night at coles
i went to the supermarket tonight with about four dollars worth of shrapnel. when i walked in, i noted that in melbourne they have easter eggs branded with each of the football teams logos and colours, i don’t really enjoy … Continue reading
txt poems
Often, I will txt friends of mine (the ones with poetic and literary leanings) a bunch of nonsense for shits and giggles. In the hope of (a) making them laugh (b) making them think or (c) catalysing some kind of … Continue reading
vagabong.
People walk past eyes glance but they don’t know how to see him No one stops to say hello. He moves so slowly watching the world go by in fast forward. cleaning his teeth with a serviette staring at the … Continue reading
tuesday night
Laughter… what the fuck was that? did Phil get an extra fan? im gona call this chick.. got papers?? not available. i didnt get her right number she was honestly in calm the fuck DOWN. capitals letters. chink of beer … Continue reading
Poem.
De-tached displeasure, egos measured by a bird of paradise with poisoned feathers. Faithful slaves that hold no evil, distorted symbols in the stars of a universal midnight. Diffused feelings filtered through grey skies, twisted shadows reveal the power of myths. … Continue reading
avalon.
The orange Budget Car Rental man leans over the d i v i d e r into the red Avis Car Rental’s booth and mutters, “she’s changed”. To which the Avis woman in a red woolen vest replies … Continue reading
Posted in life
Tagged american psycho, avalon airport, avis, budget rentals, elton john, poetry, words, writers, writing
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