Friday, 27 April 2007

technology head

Gangster rap and all that crap
shoot me dead in the head
You know you've made your own bed
so many words but nothing said

Back to nature we must go
find out where we came from
cause now we've got the A bomb
the ferarri of destruction

Educate and liberate
every soul a concious state
koala boys and swiss girls
everything around the world

Media and television
lies and truth in collision
have you learned of life itself
before you take on education

I don't think so technology head
I don't think so

Catch 22 for me and you
planet earth goes down the loo
so few know where drowning
and the ufos are coming

Religion and evolution
black and white thought pollution
can't we get some new ones
the old ones are just no fun

Something is dying
and it's not the aussie dream
our eyes are filled with lust and greed
when they should be filled with tears

Crying for the dead trees
and the damage done
how long till we realise
mother natures number one

so now I ask two simple things
because I've gotta know
is there a way of turning back
is it too late to get back on track

I don't think so technology head
I don't think so

........... reprise.....
back to basics all you slackers
pray too hard and you'll turn crackers
seems the meanings in the breathing
believe you can
with all your imagination.

......because I can

love akxm

Tuesday, 17 April 2007

would you like greens with that?

It's an inviting shopfront.
Swirling and indifferent.
I push the door.
It opens effortlessly.

Strange and oblique objects
adorn the walls.
Gliitering things that rob
my attention.
Things as tiny as quavers.
Things as large as families.

Things I know i can afford.

Sitting behind the bejeweled counter
is Salmacis ....
The Teardrop Collector.
A hermaphrodite mother
that looks right through me
but speaks at me directly ......

Hello ... welcome.
Lester said you were in town.
Choose what you wish.
I smile politely.

I'm drawn to the silver bullet
piercing a blue sky.
An artwork and a responsibility.
It hangs in time and out.
A portent or maybe a dear john.
I've owned it forever ....
and it me.

This ..... I'll take this,I say.

mmm,,you'd better be sure
says the Teardrop Collector.
I've sold a heart for less.....
but none as rich or as rare
as this planet earth.

I'm outside again ....
The shopfront swirls at me still.
My pockets are full,
full of riches and promises...

and responsibilities.

Monday, 16 April 2007

a proper poem about the wind

How invisible the road that
brings my soul news
of tempers and drifting love
of passions and hatreds and seedlings just born
of marketplace chatter of fraction and thorn
and for a moment I feel it
till it's shattered and torn
by the banter of Blustery Bill
even whispers from Wishing Well Hill.

Now a swing in the seasons
from Rosehip to Myrrh
sets a pace to the etheral tide
blowing secrets and trystes and truths to be sworn
past the opiate evenings
past a crystal clear dawn
now I know I can feel it
so I'm silently drawn
to the Darlinghurst Rd Kings Cross Fountain
by the breezes from Glorious Mountain.

Tuesday, 3 April 2007

exert from a breakup letter

The gods were close today.
I could feel them.
I said it to myself earlier.....
The whole day seems strange.
Strangely pleasant.

For me...
when they are close
they are trying to tell me something.
you don't deserve to feel like this
and that the sun
is about to come up

and it is.