your like a sponge cake,
and im like a rock,
your lite and fluffy, people like you a lot,
I get tied to peoples necks, when they drown
but sponge cakes get eaten, whilst rocks hang around.
Im being chased by a hungry lookinging
omnivore
teeth hanging out always there coming back for more
Im being watched by a hungry looking omnivore
claws streatching out wanting me comeing
back for more
oh raptor
oh raptor
the finest of the dinosaur
omnivore
omnivore
im being stalked by a hungry hungry
omnivore
it wants my bones, want my nose, wants to eat it all
no time to cook, just grab me and eat me raw
im being stalked by a hungry omnivore
oh raptor
oh raptor
comeing back for more
omnivore
il dig a pit, set a trap, but its useless
it has these fangs, gets these pangs, i am toothless
oh baby
oh baby
oh baby
give me a gun
lets have some fun
dinasour for dinner
my ass is looking thinner
with vodka melon spinner
the lights are getting dimmer
lets pull the fucking trigger
dinosaur is yum
now im getting fat on a hungry hungry
omnivore
shot in the back, its so tastey, can i have some more
backed with potatoes, tomatoes, and green paw paw
oh omnivore
omnivore
click
unclick
click
unclick
I flick my bic.
tick toc goes the
bio clock
and suddently every sweet faced child is a cheribum sent from hevan
a heady mix of progesteron and estrogen
wash all logic from my mind
the moment passes
I move on
aubergines and red berets my phsiciatric doctor
says,
are the first sighn of madness.
word salad is the second.
I said I dont like salad,
unless it has a dressing.
Preferably of mayonase,
not aubergines or any type of oil.
My freind hamish
has night terrors.
My dearest freindly hamish says his phsiciatric
doctory pays,
to have his name and letters blazed on calanders with
pictures of puppy dogs.
He gave him one last tuesday.
As a present I belive,
whilst asking him to leave,
his office.
So hamish tipped his red
beret,
(and put his abergine away),
and gave the nurese a check to pay,
for his phsiciatric session.
Your smile lines invite me.
Your crows-feet eyes enchant me.
your whisps of grey entice
me.
Your vanity delights me.
Your frail frame excites me,
your palid skin ignites me,
your really nothing like me.
You make me feel so old.
play, play, play your song for me.
And I will Follow.
To the ends of the dirt and the watery sky,
past the moons of jupiter.
Beyond the place where the flesh will die,
home to the rings of the radient sun,
near to the place where the dance begun,
back to the time when our song was sung,
in the corner of the cyclops eye.
And all the things that have an end
will finally begin again.
you delight me simple woman for your clothes are of the night,
and you sparkle as a diamond for your masters great delight.
Pure champane.
Tread light, leave no print.
Your trophy is the ring you wear.
Pet you are.
Born in captivity, hand raised.
Sustained upon the words of others.
I see you,
through the bars of your cage.
are you happy?
here they come,
case in hand,
shirt tucked in,
face set to "frown",
tie smoothed down,
socks pulled up,
these are the people who do; "things",
pass cliped on,
hair smoothed back
OUT OF THE WAY!
diary planned!
these are the people who,
get.
things.
done.
mabey they'll do me oneday.
Mary has a motorbike
A trailer and a gun.
And every where that mary goes,
she has a lot of fun.
Mary ate her little lamb.
It followed her around too much.
The women of christ are kind and serine.
Keep them selves clean,
Have stories to tell,
Have bibles to sell.
The women of christ are joyus and gay,
Keep the devil away,
Don't fuck around,
Keep their feet on the ground.
The women of christ baptise
their biscuts.
The women of christ keep
their eyes on the cross,
Never get lost,
Don't smoke dope,
Always have hope.
The women of christ are easy
to tell,
The women of christ are saved from hell.
These women full of life,
These women saved by christ.
They smile politely while they shoot their wounded.
I am made of recycled materials.
I contain no preservatives or colorings.
No animals were harmed during the construction of me.
I should be taken twice daily with meals.
I fit a wide range of dispensers.
I come in many colors and sizes.
Batteries are included.
I am gluten free,
lactose free,
egg free,
and contain no animal products.
I may contain traces of nuts.
I buff to a high gloss shine.
I take 2-3 hours to dry.
I should be baked on high.
I am water proof and air tight.
I should be disposed of thoughfully.
My love is your mango.
pulpy and soft,
rotten and juicy,
sliced and diced,
put in a blender,
set on high,
smooth with vodka,
chugged down fast.
My love is your poisen of choice.
Went for jog,
Watch the time,
Kayja say SLOW DOWN!
kayja wise!
Silly nee!
Silly me!
Silly nee on me!
Silly clicky nee on me,
when surgery nolonger free.
Here lies my lead heart
Stripped bare of flesh
The heart is all thats left
She went for a swim at sea one day
and sunk straight to the ocean floor
The fisshes stripped the flesh away
She'll stay here for ever more
What ball of wooly
nonsense is this,
sniffing my foot.
What black eyed lap thing,
more loved than the humans around it.
If not scampering on legs to short to be called legs,
then toted by a fashionable but broody young lady.
A self serving tangle of white fluff.
Sit!
nothing.
Stay!
nothing.
Roll over!
nothing!
Shake hands!
NOTHING!
perhaps it catches rats?
I run bare foot,
down to the sea edge,
I can't swim,
So I sit on the sand.
Sand castle very high,
I brought my kite to fly,
Sea gull scream and cry,
and so do I.
Sand in my togs now,
sand in my hand,
sand in my sandwiches,
sand upon sand.
And no site of land,
and the sea side band,
has started to stand,
paking up trombones,
night rolls in.
A building fell on some people,
A building fell on some people,
A plane fell on some people,
Some people fell with a plane.
Who is to blame?
Who is to gain?
Sex
sex,
sex,
s,
e,
x,
A rather messy steamy state.
The only reason men create,
the only reason people date,
the only reason girls are late,
even cauliflowers mate.
But mostly it sells cars.
Your gone 10 seconds and I miss you like oxegen.
I'm falling off the edge of my seat.
Jumping at the smallest sound,
writing bad poetry,
drinking hard liquor,
chewing my nails,
subverting the status quoe,
breaking my wrist watch,
argueing,
brawling,
fighting,
screaming.
Oh thank god your back!
Liar! Liar! pants on fire,
Lying to my very face,
You told me I'd won the race,
you told me I came first place,
You told me to my very face,
And then you took the trophy back.
I watched you run up the hill,
I saw you fall down again,
I kept you from broken bones,
Loved you back to life again,
You never seem to care.
When he gets out of you bed
There is more room to roll around.
When he gets out of your house
There’s no socks upon the ground.
And when he gets out of your life
Your as happy as can be.
Cause he’s a messy Messy
MESSY MESSY! Man.
When he gets out of the kitchen
The milk gets put away.
The garbage all gets taken out
And the dust gets swept away.
The lawn gets mowed.
The kids play nice.
And the toys get put away.
Cause he’s a messy Messy
MESSY MESSY!
So don’t promise to obey
In sickness or in health.
Because you know he'll never get around
To fixing up that shelf.
And with all the debt he racks up
You are better by yourself.
With out the messy Messy
MESSY MESSY! Man.
Clikety Clack along the track,
Clikety Clack, Clikety
Clack,
Where I go I shan't come back,
Clikety Clikety Clack.
Restless Reckless Ruthless Steel.
Turn'e
Winding Grinding Wheel.
Clikety Clack along the track,
I shan't come back.
White high heels gave it away.
The walk the talk all spelt it out.
I knew it in my guts (or was that the knife twist).
The rage welled up and you got slapped,
she made freinds with the cactus fern,
and I left the joint with a smile,
(or so I wish).
I got home and hit the booze,
had a snooze,
hit the booze,
had a snooze,
took of my shoes,
watched the news,
hit the booze.
I hate high heels.
I'm searching for the future,
I'm searching for a past,
I run as fast as I can run,
but I'm always coming last.
I'm sucking up the acid,
I live upon bought time.
I'm searching for a grain of truth,
but there's nothing left to find.
I'm wandering the wasteland,
a lone wolf on the prowl
There is no good inside me
Not never not now.
I'm cutting all the corners,
I'm turning back the clocks,
I'm burning out the break pads
So there's no way left to stop.
I'm a heart attack victim
in the making, though im young.
I'm slowly picking up my speed
like a lame man on the run.
Don't talk to me about yourself,
Don't talk to me at all
I'm making up my own mind
Even if I have to crawl.
I'm climbing up the lamposts,
riding on back beats,
flying round the planets
and falling off my feet.
I'm running out of patients
and I'm running out of lies.
Reflections of reality are swimming in my eyes.
and if reality would shake shake
shake my shaking hand
Then my dreaming falls to peices and my body turns to
sand.
TITS ARE AWESOME!
PB loves KB
Think I’m getting bored to death soon
Toro tomatsuppe
SPROOSE MOOSE
I love fucking
Many are called but few are chosen
John Tynan loves Ashleigh Stitt
God is awesome
EAT A DICK
IS THIS A PORN CARREL?
Jesus loves you and me
Smoke my cock bitch
No matter what
I hate Aussie girls
some of them are friendly
I love you BB
Same shit, different day.
Gazeing at me with her eyebrows arched down,
Hair hanging straight,
Muscels Rippling,
Guns Loaded,
My desktop girl is set.
Ready to pounce on file invadors,
hard drive bandits,
and naughty computer-repair men.
Angel craft over head
slowly wakes me up from bed.
Check my looks,
Check my books.
Now I'm on my way.
Little green froggy girls,
slowly walking to their study,
none of them in a hurry.
Their really quite like me.
Me
with my pallid eyes,
grey slippery pallid eyes,
bloby assignment computer eyes.
Perhaps their not like me.
I'm so tired of being me,
may I be you for a little while?
I'm so tired of trying to smile,
Can I run and hide for a little while?
I'm so tired of waging war,
I'm so tired of feeling small,
I'd just as soon say "Blow it all"!
But where would I be then?
I know it's going to do it soon
I never get it right,
and it under lines one of the words
in the poems that I type.
Which one will it be, thinks I
the one that I get wrong,
I never really know for sure
so I'd better just press on.
When it does I'll have to stop,
and write the word again,
the bloody Microsoft spell checker
is an ever present pain.
Maybe if I keep it simple,
try not to be too fancy,
I could write about my cat or dog
or my aged aunty Nancy.
Wow I'm really doing well so far!
Not a singe word is wrong,
maybe I can start to do
some words that are long.
Some reporters with great verisimilitude
went for a walk one day,
but in their post-modernistic residual perceptions,
they found they'd lost their way.
Well that went well and I'm nearly done
with out a single mistake,
and once I've finished this poem
I can take a coffee break.
THE NED.
A cotton-wool prefab existence is great
No room for love and no room for hate
And the flowers of spring don’t cause you to stress
As you pull down the blinds while you dress to impress
The linoleum sparkles, the counter top shines
As you pop out the cork from your bottle of wine
And the dinner guests chat as the chocolate’s passed round
The apartments are snug on this side of town
You should have come to my party
but you went to the gorge instead.
And so, while you were driving home
you swerved and now your dead.
Gerard Cutcheon ?-12/6/04
Roses are red,
Violets are violet.
Be still.
Don't sneez,
leave,
or tease me.
Just be still.
Let the traffic drive noisily past,
Let the neighbors dog bark.
Ignore the sun which is shining into your eyes,
and be still.
and breath.
Good Freind!
Your eyes are like marbles in your head.
Cats eye marbles.
Round,
smooth,
and forever rolling in circles.
I think perhaps that part is my fault.
I'm an expert on peace and conflict.
Conflicting peace,
peacful conflict,
conflicting peacful conflict,
peacful conflicting conflict,
The conflicting peacful
conflicts of peace in times of conflict.
I did my thesis at oxford
and I'm very well paid.
There he is, the man of my dreams!
Sleek! like a panther,
or a cabbage.
Impossibly romantic!
With a violin in one hand,
and a candel in the other,
and a paint brush in the other,
and a bunch of roses held in place by velcro.
Increadibly talented!
He is the only man capable,
of communicating with cats,
in their own language.
He was raised by pygmies you know.
You pass through my mind quietly like a frightend beast.
Like a spider web caught on my slevee.
Like a breeze passing silently through the crack in the window pane.
Like the tropical down pour on a thick humid evening.
You are all silence,
and sadness,
and peace.
Meters tall it's said the water wall rose,
that swallowed up so many unnamed souls.
And dumped the silt upon the roads,
where now the wild flowers grow.
With respect,
sympathy and condolences for those affected by the Tsunami 2004
Some people died today.
In a tragic way.
But what do I know of it.
I sit here and eat fruit,
and watch the news,
and a lady with bottle blonde hair says,
"The destruction was total"
and
"The poor worst affected".
Then the topic changes to sports.
Benjamin Benjamin!
A common enough name but then,
Your wit.
Your fearlessness.
Your Childishness.
Your mean-streak.
The way you get sunburnt quicker than most.
Your humming-bird metabolism.
What a good freind to have,
when defrosting a refridgerator.
My Tree
Your skin is bark.
Your arms are branches.
Your feet are roots.
Your torso is a trunk.
Your eyes are leaves.
I am a lumberjack.
I am a carpenter.
And in my spare time,
I whittle.
A Love Poem
Love Love
Love,
Love Love.
A knowing look.
He strings up his mandolin.
She talks in metaphore.
A balcony scene,
a moonlit stroll,
a secret rondevoue by the fountain,
and intamacy in the ornamental maze.
Then the geleous brother,
or mother,
or aunt.
A secret coat pocket letter,
several disguises,
perhaps a lost slipper,
or a fan.
Love Love Love,
then some conflict,
and perhaps a tragic ending.
Shakespear could not have done better himself.
Goths In Drag
If I were a proper person,
I would work toward my goals,
my record would be clean,
and I'd know who saved my soul.
If I were a proper person,
I would make all the right jokes,
my teeth would be a perfect white,
and my life would be full of hope.
But I lust after goths in drag,
sometimes I'm depressed and sad,
If I were me, you'd think me mad.
I am a funny, bunny.
Old Mc Donald
Old Mc Donald had a wolf,
ee I ee I O,
Attack dog trained and bullet proof,
ee I ee I O,
With big growl-growl and a disembowel,
Hear a hippy, there a copper, everywhere a nosy neighbour,
Old Mc Donald had a wolf,
ee I ee I O.
Old Mc Donalds
deep in debt
ee I ee I O,
That's why he keeps his lovely pet,
ee I ee I O,
To gard his crop and scare
the cops,
If he dosen't pull the deal he'll lose the lot,
ee I ee I O.
Old Mc Donald's farming scag,
ee I ee I O,
High quality stuff that's good for a drag,
ee I ee I O,
Theres a feild of the stuff
but it's never enough,
Debt collectors, bills for payment, every where a dodgy dealer,
Old Mc Donald's farming scag,
ee I ee I O.
Men/Women
MEN!
Men are manipulated,
Easily manipulated,
They are so retarded,
Damaged to the brain.
Wrapped around little fingers,
Dying in their earliy fourties,
Falling for the oldest tricks,
Again and again.
When they gunna wise up?
When they gunna smart up?
Some of them try to,
try to play the game.
But it’s the women who always win,
In the end they always win,
Cause they own the means of production.
WOMEN!
Women are the pits,
Hairy and smelly,
Stupid and pretty and mean.
They dream of greatness,
Stardom and money,
Never part of the team.
Universal prostitutes,
Ready to please,
Off of their high horse,
And onto their knees,
They turn the screws,
That put on the squeeze,
That drives the economy.
Thank you sir, thank you sir.
Watch them make the monkeys dance.
Cause they own the means of production.
The Clockwork Girl
She is the clockwork girl.
Crafted by your imagination.
Every morning round about 3
A creature comes to turn her key,
And she springs into action.
Her metal limbs go click,
Her little heart goes tick,
Her springs recoil
Her boiler boils.
The clockwork girl is ready for clock work.
All about the day she goes about
the day.
Sings, eats, speaks and makes you feel.
Pours, digs, bends Iron bars for you.
She does not feel or need to heal,
She does not hear the things you say,
She does not sleep, she does not pray.
The shadows lengthen,
The key turns slower,
Slower,
Slower,
But in the moments before the end,
Before the program runs again,
She dreams.
trust
Can I trust you,
trust you implicitly,
trust you further than I can throw you?
Are you the only one worth a cent in this dump?
Are you real and here and real?
Do you mop the floor with all the others.
So why do you keep changing your face?
Why do you keep changeing your name?
Why is the way I feel always the same,
when you die, and you lie, and you make me cry.
Seperate bank accounts rule this dump you cunts.
GUIS
Forms,
Forms,
Misery and Forms!
Lunch breaks and tea breaks,
and Forms!
Petty motivations,
bad communications.
Gossips,
and meetings,
and Forms!
Forms about forms,
about forms about forms,
about forms about forms about fines.
Women's thinking,
baby photos,
tea mugs.
Forms!
here/there
I'm here,
your there,
and between us . . .
A screen,
A book,
Electricity,
Two careers,
My neuroticism,
Your apathy,
and too much fucking opera.
Summer in
Summer in
you start taking off layers.
The trees inappropriately burst into flower,
magpies ATTACK!
Rotten things start to stink,
every one starts feeling sexy.
The ibis worry the tourists.
Too much spring for one person to handel.
1962
You!
1962!
yes, you!
Sitting on the train in your handknitted poncho!
Reading A paperback novel!
Talking to you girlfreind on your mobile phone!
Going blonde instead of grey!
You, the one who dosen't worry
about the cost of coffe!
who thinks that younger people are ignorant.
and is afraid of technological change.
and is afraid of death.
and is afraid.
You!
see my corage.
see my electricity.
See my extensive qalifications.
Sleep safe 1962,
sleep deep.
(2006)
I wanna be a Goth
I wanna
be a goth,
I wanna be a goth,
I wana dye my hair black,
slick black boots,
face powder eye liner,
toung piercing spider tattoo,
heavy metal concert band,
dog collar neck spike,
torn lace glove hands,
Maralin Manson fans,
cigarette smoke life aura,
I wanna wear my weirdness on the outside,
I wanna ditch the camouflage.
Nigel
II
Nigel II loves me,
I love Nigel II,
Nigel II has a CPU
That never ever leaves me blue.
Nigel II is wise,
Nigel II supplies
me with the powers
to pass the hours,
I whish I could take
It in the shower,
But the electricity would kill me.
Opera
Singer
Opera singer drama queen,
Tell me where o where U been.
Tell of all your thoughts to me,
let me in there let me see.
Don’t shut me out don’t be so cruel,
my feelings plain, I am a fool,
can’t you wonder, wont you see
what you always mean to me.
You’ve never even heard me sing,
you think you know everything.
Opera singer drama queen,
Learn, love, grow and understand.
Daddy’s
growing Old
Daddy is growing old
he watches TV
he watches and forgets
will he forget me
Small things up set him now
the beginning of the end
mum just pretends not to notice
he was great once
full of life
full of laughter
he forgets
but we remember
Cameron Of the Cool
Kids
Cameron of the cool kids wears suprflous clothing.
shirts over shirts.
Camaron is the head lemming.
And when the camara crews arrive,
he is probably just leaving.
He was never given educational toys as presents.
Never attentded after school
tutoring.
And never, ever dances.
The Selfish Heart
The heart is a liar,
It can't see like the eyes,
or hear like the ears,
and yet it is always putting forth it's opinons.
It exists in it's own place,
apart from the world,
ill informed and ignorant.
It dose not eat like the stomach,
or need shelter like the skin,
it is selfish.
Go To the Dentist
GO TO THE DENTIST!!
Get off my mind! get off of my case!
Are you blind or just stupid!
This isent a race,
Stop fucking around!
And slow down your pace,
Cause you’ll end up dead
Or in jail.
Stop causing me worries!
Stop making me old!
Stop staying out late when you’ve caught a bad cold!
Don’t give me grey hairs.
Grow up, get a job.
Stop relying on others!
Stop being a snob.
It’s like hitting my head,
against a brick wall
You never listen! never ever
at all,
Your so crule! your so rude!
your so mean! your so tall.
It’s been months since you went to the dentist.
A poem about a song
about you
A poem about a song about you.
I just thought I should write it.
I just thought you should know,
that I can be creative too,
in an inferior sort of way.
I cant sing it,
and I cant say it,
and it dosent rhyme,
but it had to be written.
For laughs if nothing ealse.
Death of a Poet
What happens when a poet dies?
Well if their any good,
(touch wood)
Or even if they suck!
their family,
(but more likely lover)
get it published.
Then they stick them in the ground,
and people come around,
and throw flowers,
and wreaths,
and stuff.
Then the agent,
usually a small man,
(in a large suite)
creates some mythology,
to help sell the product.
Like that the poet was bi,
or insane,
or is not really dead at all.
(worked for Elvis).
Eventually the agent dies,
(and is forgotten as all agents are).
Then all that is left,
is the work,
the myth,
and a room full of bored high school students.
Put love in the dustbin
Put love in the dustbin,
Send it to the gutter,
tie it to a vehicle and push it off a cliff.
Send it to another country,
one way ticket.
Sell it to the highest bidder.
Camouflage it with technology.
Drown it like a bag of kittens.
Leave it in the rain and let it rot.
Throw it in the river and let it float.
Gather it into folds and set it on fire.
Smoke it like an illegal cigarette.
Push it in front of a train,
and wait.
Set your lawyers on it.
Set your dogs on it.
Set your god on it.
I've done love.
I'm going to be a writer mum
I'm going to be a writer mum
you woulden't understand
I'll write some books
I'll write them good
So good tey will be banned
I know last week I said
that sculpting statues was for me
i know the tap dance classes
cost dad a modest fee
i know I haven't worked a day
Since 1993
But I'm going to be a writer mum
you'll see.
Layers
Stripping away the layers
let's start with the luggage
then the home
then the language
stripping away the layers
let's continue with the cash
then the food
then the health
stripping away the layers
the freinds who never showed up
the weather that turned bad
at the heart of this
all this...