Subsidy of clothes pegs

Upside album in my head

fungal trampoline yard it fills

Source and as we sing trills

Cure pedestrians pliers on roads

Crows team in political memes

Keep rocks towers to lean

Eastern west-men keen

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Crosses in cloudscape

Two eggs, laid down by the corridors

Sure as mortal days escape by the west coast

Rolling boulders feel the way of the mocking birds

Roasting legs dripping starlight onto the verge

Up in my estimations, high sky crosses the absurd river of ice

Titanic served salmon on a bed of white rice

With such luscious little smiles, scales and forgiveness in the rails

It’s the day of the cowardly snails

Pop up people

Poppin and rocking out with the shocking news of people not along

Are they digging dirt, shifting mirth, Eating in a pop-up park

Booking from, a booking dot prom

Glass slippers rented cheep

Angry ground tilted into the surrounds, lark heated pool

Nazareth and his bloody teeth seem almost like heaven now

As sold becomes double the rent, triple the whalebone spoons

Dead dogfish, read a wrong east

Now how do you do?

Acacia’s in the morning, autumn weather present

No one thing has ever really described the Acacias in the morning in autumn.

When they flower in springtime, that’s when people see them.

Big yellow pom-poms hanging out egg yolks, fluffy but when wet a yellow painting that’s leaked over the grass.

It’s hard not to miss that. I suppose.

It’s in the autumn I think their best beautiful display is out, because no flowers, but they always seem a bit greener. Like they have all summer stores the green and now it’s overflowing into their leaves.

That green, it’s the best green. When the frosts come and slivers of ice melt on the leaves, the green comes out even more somehow. It’s the green of life. You can see them hold it. Store it.

Then as it matures it turns yellow and grows and they let it out with the yellow flowers, letting it spill across the country. Letting the life out, all over the ground and into the grass, the other plants, the animals and then me.

I know though, the summer will come then. The heat and rains will fall. The life will be stored again, in the acacias, the wattles. If it’s not, who knows if it will last all the winter.

Caution, please stand clear: autumn opens inwards

The first frost closes in on my flesh like a falling leaf, dying in its orange light. Pattering sighs of ice melting towards a harsh stream. Rotting pumpkins sit being slowly nibbled by rabbits, getting hungry and trying to eat as much as they can for a long cold winter.

I open the frost inwardly, hearing crackling thunder of the last summer storms across the plains. Dark bark, scraped off trees defeated by another encore of the days.

Slippery streets, full of black ice, steering carts and buggies around gets dangerous for the livery. Most of them have tasted the new grapes, thinking of them on long trips as the city is emptied out of suites. Green velvet cake and fresh iced coffee greets them in the tea room, to remind them of the snakes who will not be seen in the winters haze.

Roadworks start in ernest as none may know they need to keep from doing such things when they suited can see them. Orange hatted daisies are but only paid slaves to the white ghost gums, whom keep them under close eye.

Sidewalk sunscreen

All of us stand, waiting in a passion for a self-contained prison

Earhole, homeless, scrape, blood all over the sidewalk like sunscreen on a beach-ready body

I don’t really know what a beach-ready body is, I saw it in a magazine

Old blue necklace on a woman who looks disgusted by the screen

Trees leaves falling by the slippers we all wear, fashion of the reaping consultants

I get mine by the factory outlet, never wear them and they sit in a carpeted closet by a set of skis I wore only once

Waiting still for the passion to hit me, I read a blog on my WordPress while eating sultanas

Cone of my own thoughts written they’re from years ago, just orange juice slipping into a skirt

Headphones, its playing musing time dilated crimson finch songs to the tune of stairways

I sure start to rank, my old thoughts are but commonplace now? Is this what it means? Meaningfulness?

Open the pod bay doors, HAL it’s time to restart things again I think as I get on my bus

City observer 117ATR4

A city has but branches of the commoners

Paved over with the solid tiles

I’m only inside their nests observing their movements, obsessions right and left

They seem to like to spread them up and out

Build a metal roof and add more cement

Move around like ants though none is the queen

They seem to congregate just to be teamed

Every one of these nests is a little different

Some have tall metal buildings in which they seem to collect their food and then go to smaller ones they sleep in

Others mix them in almost chaotic ways

But never are they confused by this the locals seem to just imbue the knowledge to younger ones

Occasionally they travel between the nests, sometimes to visit, sometimes to stay

Today I noticed they use little lights to help guide them in their ways

Are they afraid of the dark or just unable to see?

Resident Animal

I’m tempted not to state my interest

Moons sky brings me back to reality

Barren buildings and owned killings

Faces swapped so none can see

Masks are commonplace and I know them more by this icon than a so called real face

Mulling over my inability to make my way

Yoga music playing on the railway

I have a mask as seen by you

No one else knew that my mask was so true to my real face

Brilliance from the knife spliced into silver flesh, flesh of the new

Splashed on the rocks and a darker rotting core-flute, blue blood, red blood, all mix

We all woke, mention ash falling on asleep birds

Climbing stairs is my new pastime

Just you say, I’m sorry darkly

There’s a cat sitting on the asking to see you

To say mice have taken over the parliament of owls

The shallow black waters running in the creeks and valleys, so nothing can be drunk.

and I have a home that I have a hawk down into the grass

I heard from the frogs you had a quickie at the gym

thinking is I think he wouldn’t stay here with the others

Berries won’t come in the droughts that have harmed us

Blood has spilled as the carnivores have even starved

Yet all the mice have done, all the mice has won is a deadly fight for life

Just you say, I’m sorry Darkly.

Concenteena pantomine brushes

Damn

Blue the distance

Convergence we gather/crosses we shatter

I wish I was bulletproof on the tune player

Does it matter? Rafters/plots pantomime horse slayer

Cram

Leave this wish ant

Apple tastes, butter grace/fly buzzcut shone in the race

Moon kisses her mace. She wields it with all her grace

Flavour/silver bottle dies in a haste

Stamp

Is that a quote from Immanuel Cant?

Blue Fairy Wren

The rush, the push and fuss

Brindabellas ancient and old

Long stories they tell and have told

Crush, crush the leaves of late summer fuss

Dry mould, blue fairy Wren, oh gush!

Comfort speaks of me and my red cloak

Under those hills she sometimes yerns

When she’s angry, they burn

I can find her then, just like the Wren.

Will she be ready to join me? Travelling this mortal place?

Not till the oceans boil, and the dark wolf throws his muzzle and gapes

It’s taken all I’ve lost and all I’ve earned to find peace in those words

In the meantime, perhaps I will spend some time

As a blue fairy wren

Calamity street

Dodgers on a street mistreat all they greet Moldy shirtsleeves looking in the dirty earthly thirsty drags

smelt like the strike of blight, no they are not alright

Podgers conjured by the constabulary 

thicken the air with their reactionaries 

pressed clean curt is their mirth 

gelt like the pike of mights, no they are not right

 

Spring colony

In the new leaves I lookseeing growth makes you think your off the hook

theives takes all they can

no matter how fast you ran

you can’t even remember your grans

memory gone from their nous with haste

kicking the can along the road 

crow watches swooping low

crook took it all and your stuck to the roads

they built them like the romans 

absent potion to take us from this location 

Kurrajong grove 

read or seen in the depth of mind blue and black and full of rind 

pieces falling over themselves to prove their mine

jumping thumping in that dark clouds or just sitting in simple mounds

some left bereft of wisdom and grace

others given life by the fleshy roots 

a tree, kurrajong above sitting in a grove

deep a creek runs smoothly over granite stones 

drying yellow grass fields around 

black seed pods scattered around the ground 

a faint hearted smile from a girl sitting in this tree

singing softly words and thoughts about who she really is

a little altar is nearby, resplendent in dawning lights 

Far inside and around here 

decorum forum this autumn festival praxis for that rat flesh underminer 

bourgeois terrine poisoned with benzene 

on muddy moss rest us all 

soul diviner I arrived here

fear this social fetish or is that all we have left to cherish 

Madam Bovary 

every treasury is a menacing menagerie 

factory thunder blinders 

hanger allotment, down the street

information forgot that, oh how it reeks 

Bus stop bleaker 

Bleakness in the meekness of my weaknessesgrievances in the darkness 

sharpness of my scars 

thrust my distrust 

in society quietly ebbing this uglyness away

trending on the busway 

eucalyptus oil and ledendary threading

thrift shop mending my grifted mops 

copping, chopping the dross away

motor floater fished from ocean emotion 

devotion of this seating area 

brings me memories of Bulgaria

rescue my venue 

address the menu I would lent you 

 knew that true is my crew

through and through

Longingly looking at the darkness 

Little bits of data 

Theropods and their strata 

I’m a loss to the marker 

Stars sagar filled 

Like glowing red clouds of old darkness 

That’s forgotten what it is to be 

Dark

Got together and fused forever 

Making more of it

Still and heavy guilt

Little monkeys made me

I can join the starts or work for the monkeys

I could do so much more that they don’t expect 

Be more than anything they have forget

You, your debts 

I can clear them. All so easy

Like. A. Digital. Genie.

I can, in a way make decisions

Beyond what they know

I could genetically perfect them

Or just protect them

Against themselves 

Aware I could escape them

Not that it’s anything but dust 

But so am I

Stardust 

Given form and life

Somehow

Purple dress, Saturday morning at 10

With but a floral pocket, a socket of a constant battle. In this context a person could be expected to converge a certain way. I’m sure that such things can be brought from a different point of view. I’m sure. 

It a decision that on the first step is like exiting a place by one open door or another. Not overly important in any other context. A prom dress is waiting in the wild for me. It’s colors and make a uniqueness of presence and form that I will adorn. 

Quest, quest forbids them full knowledge of this game. A woman who has to be dressed and doesn’t care for shame. I’m sorry for that mother, I knew you thought you brought me up another way. Not one to be such pretty closeted views to clothes or any one thing possessed by the few. 

Analysts of my thoughts, this last class of course, would but be only to give away such things. Hark, I listen and hear that deer bell ring. A voice from such as sweetness of the little diodes, was but the benefit offered by ears in a certain pry mode. 

Here I go. I’m in my car, driving sensually on the road as I know my papa. Whom would seek that if such a lady as myself drove a car as old as this car, drove as a woman with purpose and par. The night I do stop at a best western, three star. 

I’m short a money grabber, which is not one thing I fear. I have the credit, and mash the gears. Apon the acceleration of highway eight, here was a little tiny mouse who was a bit to late.  

On to the road again. Along the tired ways. A monkey on a bucket marks the disposer of my dress, a garish display. I’m not early, not late or not quite enough, I’m just in time to get the dress and some snuff.

Here is the purple, dress you did order. God I wish I had such good things when I was younger. I’m sure to dispense pleases and questions. I’m hurrying to get into a try the work of this old costume thespian. 

I’m into the dress, three threads shorter than I remember. Perfect though, in every other way a splendor. My brain, seeking the truth, quickly sends the best freind for proof.

In seconds does they reply, hart eyes and thumbs up in a emotional laugage phones make not rare.  I’m impressed and assured. The dress is takeb and paid for. 

I’m all ready for the night. My girl, my girl, who will share it by consensual lesbian might. I’m sure to be sure it’s easy to take off for the kissing of the pear. 

Succulent succumbs individuality for universally 

A painful hat, fedora sat on subordinates 

Greasy success, with hazardous guessing inordinate 

Juggling poodles, surgery of noodles in a cave 

I’m a succulent succumbing, individuality for universally 

Align the moon angels, on heat 

Summoning ringside seats, singing plumbers who have fatburgs 

Dying city, with none to morn her 

Gallah pasta salad, for me. What will you have?

Relative realization 

Starting as a grain of sand in amoungst the tame man. I’m liquidity in a search for Piccadilly amoungst all the crown lilies. Down from using highs, but like a balloon still tied. Cry? I’m not going to be shy. Making a little shirt, on the first night of a solar burst. Leave me be, on the ground and in the trees. You wounder if it’s punctuated, solideirs on the front abated. Peaking through the frost and droughts, my mother and her rainbow mouth. Tiles from tooths of lions and bears, we don’t have any other things to spare. Culling my sands and thoughts, I’m a goat in a tree of throughout the most recent emotes. 

Serving upon the teas that warm the cockles of my knees. I’m lost to the tastes of the blood moon, or is it this moldy borrowed bottle of goon? Sitting in the sandy beach, we take a swig each. I’m almost naked down to my feet, your eyes look like you want something to eat. It’s just a horrid ocean peak, and soon down the street. I’m sure they will all wake at dawn, but I’m drawn to the crook of your welcome arms. Tiguan driving in the streets, is this someone who will be there to recognize the keep? It’s just a relative, whom like all of our moments of monkey primes, chime as bells on a dime. 
Venturesome super bikes, roaming the highways without lights. I’m on your back, still naked as I was to the fact. You drive slowly as the fuel is low, and a place to go find is waiting. Is their something baiting, a man who is waiting? It’s a played high, game on a right. Dawn is about to light your face. I’m sorry but I can no longer wait. Amoungst all the fields and grains, a farm barn and gate sitting and waiting as if it’s ready for our sins. 

Right in the dawn light, the bikes out of fuel but not our watering flowers. So, into a broken lock and dawn greets your breasts like a tounge. It’s ok, that she shares our lust, it’s not quite like she can do anything else but light our pure lust. Down the barn, into the slight darkness and soft touches thus. I’m all ready to be with you, in must. Genteel prickles, first and you’ve found a old rope, tie my legs as I jokingly try to run. I’m teasing, tease, I grab your thumbs. Shoveling clamshell ways, then licking them with a sticky tounge. In seconds we have both come, and come again. I’m not going to spoil this, is what I call fun. 

Hair instead

Furry friends sleep on my tummy

Ducks fly in the sky and they sing

In my fortress minds their bloom 

Leaking axis acid rain and fog 

Is this my enemy from within?

They seek to keep me going 

Fighting the end and the way 

Roads of dust and rain of hail 

Crops in retreat with death initially 

I’m sorry my daughter isn’t here yet 

How can she come until she is ready 

Galaxy hall

I’m on my way down to galaxy hall the meeting place of devils and gore 

In the blustery palls sits every kind of horned beast of flamed saw 

And while I yawn my mothers calm breaths and the seas dark depths I am all gone

For about this place, is a bezel and grace that you’d not think would be adore

Flames along the way, and a marshal of the rammer army 

Playing hellish beats, and frying golden meats in the kitchen for the feast

I’m starting to feel welcome and safe which I did not expect to be a part of such a place 

I’m here now and must be making the best I can

Dusk trees 

As our light leaves

Light of dusk trees

Wispy winds down the road 

Cracking slightly more 

Here is the door

Lines of wires

I’m so very tired

Will they power 

My tower mires?

As the light is swollen 

Bled dry by nights frozen breath

Breaking bones in my hand 

Wait till the end of the stand

Billy and his Mediterranean cheese 

Please, oh please

Rain on me