A social site for poets in Sydney.
Somewhere in the inspirational past an erudite lecturer of economics introduced me and my fellow inebriates to the maxim ‘there are lies, damned lies and statistics’, it has remained with me as a guiding light throughout my working life, so much so that, with apologies to Mark Twain [1835-1910] I often paraphrase it into support of other arguments.
I use the term argument not in a contentious way, a dispute where there is strong disagreement, but as a fact…Continue
This poem is the first in a series about the most mundane activities of everyday life. Now up to 26 poems, on subjects like "Waking Up", "Showering", "shitting", "Breakfast", "Brushing Teeth", "Housekeeping", etcEveryday…Continue
I'll lie here in the tricksy summer swell...Of perfumed heated evenings that cool the fires of hell.Sydney southerly busts through,All windows open, curtains blew.Tenses warped and wounded,The changing summer beat and pounded...I'll lie here in the…Continue
My backside is numb like a drunken teenager, it's beenHard pressed against a Sunday full of couch, I've pulledThe pin on the promise I made about a day outside in spiteOf the seamless sun drenched skies, and the sound of aIntermittent bird song…Continue
Our exiled weather turns, soft swans in their way, swept by antarctic winds, the world turns-down grey,woods are scoured cleanof leaves, and upstairs, bereft,our intermingled things,scattered where they’re left.Those disregarded things,stained with…Continue