In a heartbeat
of lust-like licentiousness
a deviant microbe replicates
as parts of its sum cleave
with global generosity
Its sundered progeny hide
among invisibly merciless
hosts of mephitic atoms
aiming without targets
miasma sans frontièrs
Breathlessly we breathe
shun lover’s kiss of death
a close hug comforts none
grave world mulls end of life
in a heartbeat
Australians all let us find voice
For we are being deceived
Our country’s politicians foist
Their scorn on refugees
Send Tamils to Sri Lankan camps
Like Jews of history
On UN stage, the world will rage
But blame not Aussies please
Our politicians act for selves
Ignoring of our pleas
I need the watching world to know
THEY DO NOT ACT FOR ME
The Saint for whom the place was named
Forsook their dirty souls;
Their mother’s sin for birthing them
Now barred them from the fold.
They sat apart and cried their tears
They knew their shameful state, Continue reading
Hysteria in Syria
they’ve lost their equilibria
it’s causing wide dysphoria
no food and getting wearier
no water aid criteria
some praying to their god Allah
and others to the Curia
depends on their insignia
But everyone is angrier
Assad has monomania
he’s fixed on his dystopia
while all around is bloodier
His wife is getting bitchier
her greedy hands are itchier
for dresses from Pierre Cardin
or trendy shoes from Louboutin Continue reading
Revolution failed
Power and wealth for the elite
workers paid in grain Continue reading
When I was a wealthy broker I dressed dapper, mode-de-jour
Then some greedy Yankee bastbankers ended all my haute couture.
First a margin call at Barclay’s, next old Lehmann biting dust
Even blue-chips like Armani saw share values slump and bust.
From the penthouse to the poorhouse was a fall that left me bruised
My creditors fought for my Porsche Continue reading
Year of the Selfie
makes it impossible to
photobomb yourself
Continue reading
NSA listens.
Cellophane cellphones reveal
our hatred for them
My son is dying, dark eyes fever-flared,
He bravely smiles as we await his fate.
72 virginal houri abide
Visage veiled but vaginas revealed
Or 28 pre-pubescent puerile pearls
If such preferred, as promised by Hadith.
The vest bears down its weight and cumbrous heft
On fading heart of this my blessed scion
Compressing tread-marks of his final steps
On venerated path through ancient dust.
I watch now from this place to the bazaar
Where wretches beg and fallen angels profit.
Honour will be paid to me for loss;
Tribute will be brought and I will feast;
His act speeds my path when my time comes.
A muffled
Holy
rumbling roar of rage.
Still-twitching parts from those of lesser worth
Fragment and reek of vile impurity.
Clouded in blood-mist their blackened meat
Stains every desert star to crescent moon.
Lacerated limbs lance wall and roof
Mangling men reviled like scorpions loathed;
Unearthed rats bleed blinded by the flames
From Paradise, as porcine stench befouls
The gentle desert khamseen’s blessed breeze
Bearing joy to this most fortunate of men.
My TV channel count is gone up to a much-duplicated 55 but 8 are actually radio channels. “WTF is SBS Radio doing thinking it’s a TV station?” asks Melbourne comedian Dave Hughes in his raucous new live stand-up act. And he’s right! Slyly infiltrating my Electronic Program Guide (EPG) using an alias like ABC Dig exceeds the duplicity of the pirate radio station I was once part of way back in the North Sea radio heydays when I fancied myself as their landlubbing prosopopoeia. But this is legal – though it seems somewhat incestuous. Or at the very least a bit bi.
Imagine all those poor, what…viewers? listeners? – the ‘populi bewilderus’ who just sit there listening to watching the music and waiting for a phantom TV show to start with the patience of Ratzinger’s gay admirer. Continue reading
Fugitive Fragments 