Miserable Pig. Miserable Bitch

I am the creature that the dual messengers of Satan created. Arthur Batson, and Olive Joan Gregson.

Arthur Batson was a pig, 

“Why are you sitting next to Josh Grant, Gareth, I thought you had better taste.”

I’ve never met a boy so bedevilled with behavioural problems, as Josh Grant.

Arthur Batson was a pig. 

in his nylon suits and his coiffured hair, all that was missing was the mauve rinse. Were there cravats?

Every day in grade six there was a battle of wits, you know which is fine, but I was a little boy.

Arthur Batson was a pig.

He lived at Maud Street Balwyn. Maud Batson more likely. Did you fancy me as a 10 year old, Maud Batson? Was that the problem?

Olive Joan Gregson was a first class bitch.

“I worry about you turtle, so slow,” she’d say. “I don’t know what on earth you could ever do, you are just not good at anything, are you turtle.”

Chances are she was borderline insane.

I’ve never been good at anything. There you go. I am the person you created. Are you pleased with yourselves, Maud Batson, and Olive Witch?

Chances are that Olive Joan Gregson was borderline personality disorder.

I'm standing in a huge, empty theatre and I am yelling that out from the stage. 

"Are you pleased with yourselves? With what you created? Well, are you? Bitch and pig?"

The bitch lived until she was 99, that is usually the death knell for cunts like her. 

Olive Joan Gregson was a first class bitch.

“The Pig was a little younger. Some say he died from AIDS. But I have neither had that denied, or confirmed.”

I am not completely sure that I ever recovered from the dual messengers of Satan. Arthur Maud Batson, and Olive Joan Gregson

Tell Me Why?

I know I have been loved by many people

thought of as special, as the best, even,

gorgeous, smart, lovely people,

I was very lucky and loved,

but, many of those people are now dead,

so what the fuck does all of that mean now?

Tell me that?

Life Is A Dream

We used to ride our bicycles all weekend, we’d only come home for food

My mum used to take me to help her in the thrift shop In Carlton when she was rostered on by her committee, it was all foreign when I looked out the door, little did I know I would eventually live really close by

I had a big cream Teddy bear named Teddy, I still have him somewhere, I should go find him and give him a hug

Mum made large Apple pies with roughly chopped apple and flaky pastry, she’d always have runny cream

Blue skies shone down on my childhood unabated, I don’t think I ever knew any different

My dad would watch the Sunday TV replay and the only thing I could get into were those little black shorts on the players

I used to go to bed and dream every night

We used to see Peacocks in the gardens when we visited on the weekends

I used to draw houses shut away in my bedroom, whatever happened to those? 

Mum used to go to ladies’ day at the races with her girlfriends in big hats 

My mum used to tell her friends that she had children who behave, when they would do nothing but complain about theirs

Sunday nights were Countdown with tea on our laps, to hear who was on top of the charts

I used to dream about Peter next door shirtless in his back yard chopping wood

I lived in a world where everyone was equal and we never questioned that

I used to visit my great aunt for afternoon tea of cups of tea and cakes on trays

My mum promised to buy me a silver teapot if we found one for 50c, but we never did

Awful Uncle Brian saw men dancing on the TV on one of his rare visits to our house, and I heard the word poofters for the first time when it came out of his ugly mouth

I used to sit on our back steps with our dogs and feel the sunshine on my skin, I was sure it warmed my bloodstream

I used to dream of being an architect designing house conversions when I got big

Aunt Lois would bring boxes of cherry chocolates she got from the seconds shop at Cadbury

My mum would give me soft boiled eggs in egg cups with sliced toast she used to call soldiers

My grandma used to give me caramel lollies to suck on, which would last almost all day

I used to wrap all my Xmas presents in different colour cellophane which would crinkle loudly as I folded it

We used to wear black suits to church but only on Xmas Eve, I guess the rest of the year we sinned

We had big family Xmas’ lunches with all my cousins, now we get together for our parent’s funerals

Now I dream about days gone by and how happy they were.

Silly

Silly Sally climbed the ladder to the window,

because the boys told her to.

Oh Silly Sally, seriously, said he boyfriend Kurt?

those boys just want to look up your skirt.

Oh no, said Silly Sally, how silly do you think I am, she said, with a scoff,

I’m not going to let them see my kickers, because I took them off.

Silly Stevie got cheered and wolf whistled by the woman with chardonnay glasses in their hands,

Some of those women were old enough to be Silly Stevie’s nan.

They whistled and call for him to spin around and “Take it off.”

Those little shorts that fitted tightly to his sculptured arse

He smiled self consciously and did a little dance,

Those drunk women would have grabbed Silly Stevie if they had got half the chance.

No is a complete sentence.

Sometimes saying more, lessens your position.

Hold firm in the face of opposition.

I'm Sorry

I used to say I’d miss you every day,

I used to say I didn’t know how I’d go on,

I didn’t think I would ever breathe again,

the ache was debilitating and real.

But then more life just happened, just like that,

and like a lot of water rushing in to fill empty spaces,

it washed the sadness and grief away, and

even though I never expected it to happen, I lived, 

and even though everything in my life is different,

everything in my life is now different and new,

without you in it, I would never have dreamed that. 

I never dreamed of this happening to me, but

it did, and I’m sorry my life now

doesn’t look like you.

Thoughts on Charlie Kirk

Charlie Kirk

what a jerk,

peddling in myths

rather than truths.

I say he’d look better

in his undies and a shirt,

than a satin lined box

and a cross.

He was a strapping boy,

with not a bad head,

but someone took exception to his words

and shot him dead.

Shit happens,

as has been said.

Poor Charlie,

barely 30,

imagine the damage he could have done,

if someone hadn’t taken to him with a gun.

Not that I am saying that,

it would only cause armed combat,

if one side takes up arms,

the other side would do the same.

And where would that take us,

somewhere whack,

from where we’d probably not come back.

No, I don’t want that.

I wanted Charlie to live to see,

a black, transgender, lesbian president, 

being beloved as widely evident.

And the son he was yet to have,

kissing his husband deeply in love.