Bob came to mow the lawn yesterday. I saw him creep through the side gate while I was sorting out my shell collection. He slunk in hunched and filthy. His sticky white legs poking out of saggy King Gees. Bandy ankles thrust into ratty Blunstones, raw with mud and ash and spit from years of grubby labour. … More Good Men, Hurting… a message from the Jasmine King
Gondwana’s prim bouquet of
lemon and honey, red earth and gum
is utterly disheveled
by this exotica
of hot pine, leather,
and sweat. … More my America
There was a story once, about a girl so in love, and so confused, that even though the man she adored was near her every day, she never once dared risk his attention. Years and years went by before, one day, she found herself beside him and, even though she was tattered from the heavy seas of … More Love bird
Lilium xx in her glass, brightly she furls and uncurls her long limbs, xxxxxxdusted xxxxxxwith tiny creatures xxxxxxof light. xx almost naked in the thin glow of this quiet table, beside the car keys and a flotsam of letters with plastic windows, she slow … More Lilium – in her glass, brightly.
Could the wounded human love story be the tearing open of the bud to a truly Divine Romance? Huge, hard, kinky, tantra, boots and whips and puppies. Ice creams, gags, wax and weird conjugations of the kundalini…. since when did sensuality form this venomous helix with suffering? And where, on our wounded Earth, is all this going … More The Beautiful Suffering
In the garden, wet with rain, we went seeking a balm for our longing. There, folded in the petals of a flower, trembling in the heart of every leaf – the letters of a poem from the beloved. * * * * First, find yourself humbled aroused electrified by a petal…. wet with rain. … More Eroticaaaa…..
The Key to Enlightenment I’ve never been one to ‘buy American’. I don’t go for Macs, Levis, Victoria’s Secret or Oreos. I will admit to contradicting for the sake of The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Annie de Franco, but in the main, no – I don’t ‘buy’ the American thing. Especially when it comes … More Malice in Underland – Part One
The boy in the beanie is a vapour, a smoke ring, a dream thought… dissolving upon waking. The boy in the beanie, when I first saw him from my hidden window in the secret room of our grand State Library, turned my breath into hiccups and my novel to soup. Even then, from three flights … More Unsent Love Letters – for Barney.
A month washed in, a month washed out. Here in Vilcabamba rainbows were broiled up and rinsed out, we had a peace festival which caused no end of bitching and treachery, dust devils hurled themselves about the gritty streets and I walked on with dirt in my teeth and a bliss bomb in my pocket. … More Bliss. Bomb!
In the beginning was the word, And the word, in this beginning was B.O.R.E.D ! So what would you do? I mean, if you had this chance to leave your world and all your pressures , compromises and responsibilities behind, to step out into the (sort of) uncontaminated wild, to live free and unfettered, unjudged … More It’s transcendental, baby