Men

I can masturbate any where

in the car, under the stairs,

in an exam, when my fancy is in sight,

in a park, in the dead of the night,

in the lounge when there are people around,

riding a unicycle, playing the clown.

In fact, I’m rubbing one out now.

The Glass Is Empty Guy

Just lately, I seem to aspire

to a glass half empty,

that would be grand,

to get that much in life,

I think.

Getting things done is a chore,

even those for my own good,

even the simplest tasks,

I’m already bored.

I do have friends,

but I don’t contact them,

that just seems like a chore too,

how do people feign that much interest?

I just seem to want to drift

stare into space

sit with my dog,

feel time pass by.

When there is nothing to do,

I like that the best,

that is the easiest.

No stress. 🙂

Religious discrimination laws

are really just a continuing temper tantrum

from the religious right wing

for the world having moved on without them.

Good Old Days

We remember them well, the sunshine

of our childhood, how we all miss them so.

(don’t mention the sexism, the racism,

the homophobia, the bigotry, the poverty, 

the inequality, or the religious indoctrination,

for Christ’s sake)

We wonder if those days will every come back?

We lament that they are gone at all?

Ah, the good old days.

Fond memories.

Burning Heart

How does it feel?

Cauterised and future proofed 

– think dissected frog and battery cables –

now better than before,

so, they say, so they implore.

 

How do you feel?

How am I supposed to feel?

Better when he comes,

and gives my heart a proper work out.

 

Better when I can breathe 

and my hair stops hurting.

Better when I can feel

and my world stops spinning.

written for my perennially single, desperately looking, mate David after a minor procedure on his heart for Supra-ventricular tachycardia (SVT) that involved cauterisation of nerves, complete with Sex and The City references

Stormy Weather

Major storms at midnight they said,

so, with some trepidation we all went to bed.

But the world was clear and calm when we got up today,

perhaps the killer storms all blew away?

Perhaps, the weather hasn’t become 

a part of the news cycle as we cynically thought?

Perhaps, the weather by Rupert Murdoch hasn’t been bought.

Thunder storm asthma, flash floods, fire, rain

all good stuff to sell the news for the nightly campaign.

But seemingly never a part of a coordinated plan

to inform the public that climate change is well and truly at hand.

Spring Rain

Rain, rain, rain, rain. That was what I woke up to today.

Rain, rain, rain, rain. It rained the entire morning, you know. 

Rain, rain, rain, rain. Good thing I like the rain, hey ho.

Rain, rain, rain, rain. Everything wet, everything glistened.

Rain, rain, rain, rain. It played glockenspiel on the roof in patterns.

Rain, rain, rain, rain. It filled the pond, the fish smiled.

Rain, rain, rain, rain. It turned the colours in the garden rich brown and green.

Such a romantic sound, plonk plink, plonk plink,

it's nice to hear on the roof, don’t you think.

Spring rain is wild, unpredictable and swell.

Long, slow spring rain up against the wall. 

Wink, wink. Lunch time the sun came out again.

There was a sunny window in which to walk the dogs.

But then I was back inside, the doors closed tight.

I was behind my computer all day and half the night.

That was when the sky opened up again and the rain fell down

so hard, it sounded like an army marching into war.

I wondered which parts of the city might be flooding in the morn,

We get the news reports of how many things got drowned.

It got heavier and heavier and heavier, and then as suddenly as it came down, it stopped again.

That is Spring rain.