A social site for poets in Sydney.
I met him one night in a drunken haze, down a dark alley having a smoke,
He stepped out of the shadows and asked for a light, a sad looking sort of bloke,
In between the swearing and spitting on the ground, he started to sing a song,
His words cut me straight to the bone, and then I asked him where he came from.
I am the product he says; of generations of fools, of wise men and skillful liars,
Of brave men and women that died for a cause, stirred up by political…
Down here we whisper to each other, our bodies a pile of twisted broken bones,
Our souls crying out for justice in the darkness, our only crime was to be born,
Ireland of our faithful Fathers and Mothers, our religion our guidance and our light,
How we shamed you by our mere existence, dirty little secrets to be kept out of sight.
Your own flesh and blood excommunicated, to serve those that may look over your fence,
Then all the lies and cover up stories, never once…
A grey woman appeared, like a hesitant wraith,ingesting pathogens, projectile vomiting smoke,exuding noxious acridity - coughing, hard and dry -through a haze of ‘on special this week’ perfume. She sat at a rain-speckled table of the sidewalk…Continue
Poor sad sod sat in the corner,singing blues songs, unheard bythe munching, chattering hopefuls- with companions of opportunity -everybody planning to get laid. ‘I get those blues when it rains,’‘on the outskirts of every town,’‘when my woman…Continue
Times change, the demographic broadens... but memories of 'how it was' remains.' Steamy, silent streets of Strathfieldwake and shimmer in morning rain.Praiseworthy wives frying bacon,sunny-side eggs, with runny yolks,butter soldiers of wholemeal…Continue
I watched her flip-flopping through the mall,hurrying with trepidation to the welfare office,her black and white striped dress stretched farbeyond chic and her hair stylishly dishevelled. Her coarse voice first caught my attentionas she yelled a…Continue