Young men become old men
beautiful women decay.
After 25 life slips away
tick tock, tick tock, tick…
Young men become old men
beautiful women decay.
After 25 life slips away
tick tock, tick tock, tick…
Belinda Houghton
you sad thing
now that you are slim.
Running, running, all the time
even with your body
in decline.
You must get fit, you say,
you must get thin
you need help, I say, to win
Another school buddy dies,
I still remember Russell’s dark, dark eyes.
Another face on the school photo with a cross,
adding to our generation's loss.
Halfway through our lives
we thought we'd all survive.
So full of life,
we thought we'd never die.
Apparently, all a lie.
I so love to piss around,
I might as well hold my dick
permanently in my hand
I walked passed the closed Carlton chemist
at 11.06 on a sunny Sunday on my morning walk.
There was a pack of methadone junkies waiting at the door for their hit,
standing around in all their toothless decrepitude.
Short and fat, tall and thin, chewing, twitching, vacant, disheveled, still,
sunken lined-faces, missing teeth, track suits, crooked smiles, bare feet,
like milk cows waiting at the dairy doors,
we pretend not to see.
After you have said good morning
to your work colleagues
you must engage some more
before you go quiet and tune the world out
otherwise social convention breaks down,
apparently.
My childhood neighbour,
Coral Penny,
with her citrus kaftans billowing
would chase us away
from her prize winning garden
with the attitude
of a champion harridan cursing
from her door to the fence
from where we would
have long since departed
running off down the street.
Joy Divine
smokes 100 a day
drinks a box of wine
curses like the devil
and spits on the ground.
She is never nice
to be around.
She'll give you a look,
up and down
if she thinks you are
taking the piss
she'll cut you and frown.
You will live until you are 100,
they say.
So you will work until you are 70,
they say.
It will still be a sign of the under achievers,
I say.
The working class, to the bitter end.
The poor, the rich,
the great divide.
The disenfranchised, the unlucky
work until you die.
It's a sad indictment
on modern society
that financial advisors
need legislation
to stop them cheating
their customers.
Power companies,
telcos,
credit companies
car salesmen
real estate agents
and marketers too.
To name just a few.
Sorry they say
as the lift doors open.
Sorry they say
as they pass in the street.
Sorry they say
when they have spoken.
Sorry they say
when their gazes meet.
Sorry they say
quite automatically,
so spontaneously,
when they drink tea,
even when they breath.
Soon they’ll say
sorry as they greet.
Everybody is sorry
in the 21st century,
everybody is sorry
it would seem.
Theology College,
esteemed institutions,
halls of learning
dedicated to studying
flat-earth truths,
dedicated to studying
the theory of metaphor,
dedicated to studying
nothing real at all
May a black cat cross your path
and may you not drop down dead.
May a ladder walk under you
and may you not fall on its head.
Do you ever see a torn aluminium can in the street
wondering what it would feel like
running your finger along the sharp edge?
Do you wonder how deep the flesh would cut?
The amount of blood spilled?
The sting?
Do you ever blush at such thoughts?
You lay in bed awake, waiting.
Eventually, you could hear my sports car
coming from a distance.
You say, you’d fall asleep, satisfied
before I got to the front door.
Most accidents happen 1k from home.
How many times have I heard HR
explain a wage freeze sincerely,
while at exactly the same time
their wages were being adjusted for CPI.
Irony, is seldom
an HR professional’s gift.
Not everyone can see it.
Everyone will be blind some of the time,
some will never see,
some won’t see due to their beliefs,
some can’t, because they can’t,
some don’t because it doesn’t suit,
some wilfully stand firm.
The truth, it’s absurd.
He should be home by now.
It is getting dark,
the roads are wet,
he is over due,
not a word.
Why hasn’t he called?
The rain falls menacingly,
tap, tap, tap.
Every noise,
makes you jump
makes your hand shake
makes your heart skip.
You are being silly
you know that.
The doorbell rings.
Turn and walk away
don't look back or you'll blow it
you know that.
Let the promise
of happiness
take you by the hand.
Islam, man?
The moderates denounce the violence,
the militants say they are doing Mohammad's work.
On this they disagree.
But they both know Allah is supreme,
so how could the hate
not be his work.
It is so true,
it is not the things I do that I regret,
it is the things that I don’t do
that cause me pain.
Be brave.
You have a lot to lose.