Friday, April 27, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty-Five


karmic car horns honk as they walk down the aisle - a loud love celebrated quietly - a silly celebration celebrated without the feelings - was there any real need to be right? - she asked me if the queen was drinking, i never knew if i was the one to answer - my home town now melds into three or four - five if you count mexico as a town - eight if you count four days in krakow - eleven if you count an hour of heaven - i saw the circus was in town for an hour - jesus was a juggler - moses was mooseman - noah manned the bumper-karts and mary poured the drinks - i sat on the hay-bales, smoking a pipe and drinking something mary concocted me in a dirty old coffee cup - my beard was bushy - life was pushing too hard on me, getting in the way - id have to brush it aside like a machete man in the australian-wilde - sometimes i'd catch the train, on the belgrave/lilydale line - yeah, i pushed on peak hour - standing amoungst them all - pretending not to notice - drowning my consciousness with book, music, or vacant stares - trying not to make eye-contact for the third time - i wonder if they realised they in the presence of so much insignificance - i wonder if they'll know where they're going to sleep tonight - i imagine a spectacular end to the world - and wonder if the authorities will give us notice, or keep us blindfolded - i love to imagine a prepared end to the human race - everyone given at least a month to do and say all the things we should've and wouldn't have - a mad-month to get our shit together - a month of madness, sharing love and wealth and crime and a month to decide how we'll decide our last lost seconds of life on earth - im sure the internet will form mobs, and gather in public places - me? - i'll probably share some time between friends and music - im sure it'll be a great month for live music - but when the time came, i'd find myself somewhere - nowhere in particular - no where significant - i'll be with the people im with - im sure lady-elle will be there - im sure i'll have my face to the sky and a smile on my face for no reason at all - maybe i'll be happy - maybe i just won't care and i'll be happy enough that none of us have to care about the whole damn thing anymore - we'd sit down and talk about how we're not afraid to die,  and i'd wonder if im telling the truth - i hope im preparing myself well enough - god knows we're a lifetime away from the buddhists - they know, as do i, you could spend a lifetime exploring one second of existence on earth - given the chance, i'd take that chance and risk it all - because it beats this, and i won

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty-Four



im not tired, so i don't sleep
i turn on a lava lamp
my soul to keep
- but i wake up in the morning

i wonder around at dusk
and break into a construction site
the rain turns into dust
- in the end they'll finish it

the unframed photo curves with age
i no longer see the faces
like a novel missing a page
- i never knew them that well anyway

it's time to turn off the heater
as the violent rain falls
these blankets can't treat her sweeter
- but i've got my jacket on

i've locked myself out
of my own house
"holy shit!" coltrane makes me shout
- i'm out there for hours

and he feels hazy
as she drinks water,
the guilt of the lazy
- i watch them both with a beer in my hand

young couple kissing
the crowded train
and the rain down pissing
- i've got an ipod and a book

cooking my dinner alone
i listen to jazz
but not the ringing telephone
- i have seven messages, apparently

fingerless gloves of the coffee-cup
shake the hands
of the glove-less drunk
- but im not hungry

i shake my fists and nod my head
trumpet man, i  hear you play
the night is long and the day is dead
- i really don't care, but how did i get here?

a long walk home in the rain
yellow headlights and puddles
i left my umbrella on the train
- but what an amazing cup of soup awaits me at home

a rusty old tin can
hard and tough
it's ending where it began
- i wonder what they're improving now?


Saturday, April 21, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty-Three

one day i will wake up to myself - and wonder how i got to this place - sitting at a football game - nervous, a twenty nine year old man - mustache, side burns, leather jacket - toying with the three rings i wear on three of my fingers - one was given to me from my girlfriend, one is a wedding ring, the other is a bottle opener - my three loves - i'll wake up to myself and ask, did i really get married? - do i really hold a job? - did i really live alone in a small shit hole unit for three years? - did i really go hiking in greenland? - was i really drunk and alone on the streets of reykjavik talking to an icelandic man about the darknesses of depression? - i wake up everyday, but one day i'll realise what ive really done with my life - how old will i be when i die? - sure, i haven't done it all - sure, i've belted plenty of missed opportunities and drowned talents - but i've walked the earth sonny jim - i've made my commitments - i've been friendly, i've been mean, but i've dished it out evenly - maybe i'll wake up to myself, and realise my life, on my death bed, on the day i die - it'll all make sense and i'll drift warmly into death - i'll flash through my life and for a micro-micro-micro-second i'll see myself sitting at the football ground, thinking about my one day of realisation - and remember that one day i caught a glimpse of the pin-prick-realised-real-world-truth - im sitting here at the football, surrounded by seventy-five thousand people, only now understanding that ive been in a twelve year relationship and gotten married but before that seen my team win from forty two points behind, become friends with my best friends, work graveyard shifts at petrol stations, made short films, written words, studied and passed and thought i was dumber than i wasn't and realised education is a seed and grows and younglings one day and depending on what planet you're planted on, you grow as such - i grew strangely, but so what? - i travelled alone, leaving behind the best girl on earth, trusting the synchranised touch we share with the universe that, of course, shit, we'll be back together - i seen the homeland - i traveled the buses - i slept on them, for nine-teen hours, at least - i walked the streets and i drank at the bars and i touch the grave of jack kerouac and left a carlton draught bottle cap there and allowed myself visions - i spent two months in mexico bitch! two months in mexico alone, moving down the highways so much i was miserable when it was time to fly homeward bound - heartbreaking more hearts stopping off in japan - i better warn you man, i have no money! - it didn't matter - and then what? - a fucking job? - yeah - a cool little unit of madness swallowed for three years - iceland, greenland - yeah, so what? - ive felt the ash of icelandic shut-down-volcanos fall on my face, but i had the waterfall to wash it off - i've spoilt all your great scenic holiday photos by going to greenland and hitchhiking in greenland, in the back of a ute, over streams of icy old water  - my pure happiness - india fucked me, but it was consensual - bhutan sunk me, but i crossed my fingers - nepal, crowded with too many europeans with goatee beards stacked with "gear" - (london), berlin, death camps, and my football team - where to from here? should i save myself? should i plunge? - how will i be remembered by so many people who don't understand? - ive learnt not to care so much - the trick of life is to learn to carry on, to push on, and shrug your shoulders when you have to - and that really, you can't do anything wrong - because really, says who?

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty-Two


honking a horn and
yelling something out of a moving car while you
play your favourite songs as you sit by yourself in a chair and
put strange notes and messages in people's letter boxes as you
ride a bike down a hill
opening a cold, cold beer
after long, hard run as you
feel the sun warm the cool air
moments after you wake up in blankets
and think about what you want to have for breakfast
the morning after you stay up all night drinking with friends
and making them laugh
and lending them cds and dvds that you know they will love
feeling snug sitting in someone else's couch
as you see the sun setting on their house
and how the sun set differently from every different place possible
like how sometimes when you come home there is food already prepared, made for you
and there is that feeling of satisfaction you get as you sit down to eat a meal you've made yourself
knowing the things in your life that make you feel good
knowing that there are people out there thinking of you
people you met once in mexico six years, know and remember you
and you can only be sure because you remember them
as you take a seat, on a chair, and allow yourself to do nothing
witness time pass in the form of changing-sunlight on leaves
in the form of suburban birds bouncing around in the dead leaves
of your shaded courtyard
that's brilliantly overgrown
and natural and creating a character and atmosphere of it's own
and taking a beer and writing down your thoughts
and agreeing with them from time to time
after someone apologises to you for being late, and you say - it's alright
and it really is
as you watched strangers hangout at the bar and talk about what's been going on
after you spoke with some guy who'd speak to anyone who'd listen
and you disagreed with everything he had to say
but you shared some enjoyable time together and you wished each other well
as a long forgotten song comes on that reminds of you some great memories
and you've got a few
and you've lost a few
but they're all brilliant
you go to the toilet, and envision your death
and the day you die
how when and why
and you hope everyone you've ever met in your life understands
and you let the phone ring
as you sink back deeper into your chair
after dozing off for a couple of hours, in bed
waking up to see the dusk - they never last long enough
waking up to dinner being cooked
and it's good
you take beer and stand in your driveway
appreciating the comfort you're lucky enough have
cars drive past, fast
and you appreciate having no-where to do, and nothing to do

Friday, April 13, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty-One




the pervert sees

what he has become
- the mighty quest for truth

harrassed school-girl,
i'd stand up for you
if i hadn't been drinking

tense business man,
are you holding a bomb?
- you look so silly

i look into the mirror
- and poetry
write itself

all the best poetry
was once reflected
from the poet's mirror

water flowers,
rain clouds,
poets drink

the sad man
the lonely man
- my friends

lonely school girl,
don't listen to them
- it will always be like this

how many works of art
are never created
because there's something else we have to do?

typing and drinking,
she sleeps impossibly peacefully
- oblivious to my beautiful madness

it's cold and wet
- but what a night! -
we're almost home

in heaven
we only sleep
when it rains

in heaven
we only drink
when you do

one lonesome moment
spent alone, happily
boozey sunrise!

the bleeding man
dying peacefully in the city
- too beautiful for rescue

a fear of death
a fear of living
- human life

the saddest song
is never as sad
when you're not alone anymore

let me be,
im only drinking
alone with no-one around me

the lonely school girl
- nothing matters,
so please don't worry

if i could cry,
i'd be happy

peak hour busniess man,
can you smell beer on my breath?
because i can smell whiskey on yours

pretending to go to the toilet
only to write poetry
that no-one will read

everything is so much sadder
than it seems in real life
- and fucking beautiful

death is only sad
because we only notice it
when it calls someone we know

2am, past midnight,
one car on the highway
wakes me from my sleep

swimming in the ocean,
the crashing waves
are millions of years old

two friends, together
-take care of yourself-
they say to one another

i've been let down
- but thank god,
it only takes once

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Sixty


something to share – pass it onto you – we arrived full of anticipation despite our lingering fatigue – it’s not as though anything was possible, but something was, and that was enough for us – earlier on we shared soup and bread and got toasted – music droned on in the background, it played it’s part but let us live in the moment, together – it didn’t mean anything, but it was acceptable – an acceptable use of time, and that was good enough for us – some of us were drinking, some of us weren’t, but it didn’t make a difference – we spoke of our friends who weren’t with us anymore, and we spoke fondly – when it was time to leave, we put on our warm coats and left mellow lounge to walk through the cold dark night – the shadow of winter’s waving hand – we laughed loud enough for the squares to hear us over their fucking televisions

shelly was a quiet girl – neither friend nor foe, and that’s how I liked it – that’s how I like people to be – neither friend nor foe, neither here nor there – it keeps me interested – shelly’s name irritated me, and my crude sense of humour ensured she kept her distance from me whenever our timeframes inter-mingled – we both like to hang-back and stay in the background, meaning we often shared glance-chance eye-contact that lasted a fraction of a second but kept us both thinking about it for hours afterwards – as we all walked down the streets that night, shelly and I both found ourselves trailing and walking behind the rest of the group – “how’s it goin’?” I mumbled to her – she replied with a smile and a nod, saying “good, good” – I offered her a sip of my beer, and she accepted, handing the bottle back to me in an indescribable way that said – “that’s it, we don’t have to talk anymore” – it was perfect, and I admired her for her honesty

I drifted out, paying attention to no-one and nothing and missing a step in time – some people call them black-outs, but I don’t know what to call them – I like to think it’s a small moment that pops up every now and again that allows me to venture into the unknown, communicate behind the beyond, only to have my memory wiped and re-set as I return to the moment occurring in existence

as we arrived, the group dispersed – dissolving into the snug-pumkin hospitality of like-minded outcasts – fuzzy muffled music drowned out all our expectations, now faced with a wall of actuality that put us all on equal ground – I scanned the room for a drink and saw dean doing the same – outside they had some cold beers and a raging fire, on the brink of making a break for it and burning out of control – I met dean by the fire as we both twisted open our beers – “what’s goin’ on?” I asked, noticing how much like my father I was becoming – “ah, you know” dean replied, obviously not able or willing to think of anything to say, knowing all well I didn’t mind or care any less – dean was new in town, and had clearly fallen sick of people everywhere – where he came from I didn’t know, and I didn’t care – and I think that’s why he liked me so much – whenever I spoke to more than three people at a time, dean was always one of them – not always one to respond, he’d always listen to me and always consider the things I had to say – “do you think shelly’s suicidal?” I said after a moment of camp-fire hypnosis – by the time I walked away to get another beer, dean hadn’t replied – he just stood there staring into the fire, frumping his bottom and nodding slowly

I paced around the lounge room, hearing patches of the numerous conversations around the room – i stitched them together to make a nonsensical conversation in my mind that occupied me for quite some time – I scanned the cd collection, and felt a distant misery wobble awake – so many of my favourite albums and favourite songs, shared by so many people – I often forget that’s the case – im not the only one experiencing this maddening absurdity – I’m not a pioneer of human emotion – everything I love and hate has been loved and loathed before

I was sitting on one of the couches, next to a small group of strangers totally immersed in themselves – I had changed the music and put on something that would connect a few of us, no matter where we were, what we were doing, or who was talking to us – I thought of them hearing the music I’d selected to play, and waited for that one moment our thoughts were synched as we realised what, who and why this particular music was playing – georgie snuggled up next to me on the coach, nudging me aside a little with her arse so she could sit down - something that’s only accepted when done by girls – she crossed her legs and handed me a beer – “cool stockings” I said, noticing what looked like a gothic-forest of dead-trees wrapped around her legs – “thanks, cool huh?” – georgie and I used to see more of each other, we used to be really close – but for one reason or another, there was no need for that anymore – we just naturally fell apart without either of us caring to notice – we were both a little nutty, drinking too much and so we used to write drunk-letters to each other that when collated, would resemble the notes of a psychopath – it was interesting to see her behave as crazily and bizarrely as she did, equipped with the rambling letters she sent me – this inside knowledge brought us closer and for a while we depended on each other when it came to defending our chosen lifestyles – but in time we grew to know too much about one another, and it bored us both – so we drifted – searching our worlds for something else to submerge our confusion into – “what are you up to?” I asked her – “what do you think?” she replied – I had no idea

while trying to find the toilet, I realised I had actually been to this place once before – at least once – I remember the stain glass windows, and how when lit from the inside they looked so much more interesting to me – they made more sense – I remembered the newspaper clippings glued all over the hallway walls – a permanent age of yellow that springs the warm homely smells of someone else’s house – I found the toilet and closed the door behind me – I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, the chatter of people outside – someone voicing their concern over the raging fire – someone knocked on the toilet door, and I turned my head around and said “yep!” – when I finished I opened the door and saw shelly leaning against the hall-way wall waiting to use the toilet – “hey” I said as we slinked passed each other in the hallway – she remained silent, hiding a small smile

I met alex in the kitchen – he put his hand on my back and introduced me to a couple of people I can’t remember – I stood around rubbing my chin and cheek with my hand, watching them talk - i sipped my beer – the kitchen was lit with dusty old candles – more wax than candle really – every now and again one of them would sizzle and crackle and we’d turn our heads to check it out – I picked one of them up and left alex and his friends in the kitchen – I walked outside and shielded the candle from the cold wind – it felt pointless walking the candle towards the raging campfire outside, but I did it anyway – I sat down before the violet flames and felt the heat laugh in my face – looking down at the candle resting on my lap, I felt simple calm flood within me for the first time that night – the contrast between the two flames was immense, in every way possible – and holding that small candle before the campfire made sense to me – it felt right and it symbolised a realisation none of us have experienced yet – but one day, I could sense it – I lifted the candle up and looked at it burn peacefully before the spasmodic campfire – honoured I could create something so beautiful so simply, and that rightly, no-one would ever know

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part Fifty-Nine


took a left at the ocean, and ended up in the sand
careless, it filled my boots
sand everywhere - not as bad as you think
like washing and drying cutlery
i psyched myself up with strange sad theatrical
music
as i sat and watched some lonely people
walk their happy dogs
along the beach
the waves were loud
crashing violently
matching the easter road-tolls
in the same way that every-year
is going to be bad for bushfires
- this damn morning,
what cold fear is this?
i strip off and wrap my music
and rings
and glasses in my tshirt
protection from the harmless sand
and walk slowly towards the ocean
no need to run
no way to run
i walk slowly towards the cold violent ocean
on an isolated morning sun drenched beach
and as my feet slip into the sheet of shallow waves
i only now understand the cold challenge ahead
i walk towards another wave
and another
each one taking it's tense chill
to another level up
my body
knees
hips
stomach
chest
on an isolated beach, no-one can hear you scream
i grunt and groan like a footballer, at best
i yell as i finally face the cold truth
and submerge myself
like sand and washing and drying cutlery
it's not as bad
it's not as cold
as you think
i allow the waves to get bigger
as i wade myself out deeper
they hit me
and i lose control
wave after wave
upside down
and
inside out
i pull up my shorts from time to time
their pockets filling with water and creating a life of their own
filling their pockets and running
as far away as possible
in this cold blue jelly