Here is a collection of my poetry. Don't expect anything fancy, meaningful, arty, or beautiful. Most of it is rather silly and in bad taste. And, yes, I'm proud of it. There are many references to sex, drugs, death, sex, insanity, drugs, paranoia, sex, neurosis, drugs, etc etc. Did I mention sex and drugs? All it boils down to is that I'm rather childish. Educated, yes, but still a big hyperactive kid. I'm supercharged on coffee and sugar! Yes please, I'll have three. Slurrp...here I go. WHEEEEE! BOUNCING OFF THOSE WALLS!! ZOOOM-POW-PINNNGGG!! Okay, I'll sit still now.
I hardly write any poetry these days, most probably because I'm a lazy bastard. My earlier stuff was chock full o' toilet humour and in-jokes. As I got older I became more cynical and my output was strewn with some rather nasty social criticism. After an occasion on hallucinogens where I discovered that I was slowly turning into a "bitter old bastard", I stopped being so negative, and then found myself suffering from block. The stuff I wrote after that was chock full o' toilet humour and in-jokes but with an added ingredient, utter stupidity.
Bong is something I wrote when I was about 16. It epitomises escaping ones mundane reality through the use of recreational substances. Lyrically banal but blunt and to the point, it's much less pretentious than this introduction.
Gerbil was also written when I was 16. My first band was called "Gerbil Abuse" and this became our unofficial theme song. It was written after hearing how some famous celebrities, and other such perverts, achieve sexual pleasure by inserting rodents up their rectums and other naughty bits.
Acid Conspiracy is a compilation of paranoid delusions that I have heard come out of the mouths of people I've known. The song can be found here.
Happy Song was written after someone who was "ever-so-positive-to-the-point-of-making-you-vomit-blood" (think of a cross between Steve Hillage and Barney the dinosaur) called me negative and asked "Can't you write a happy song?" What was that I said about me being a cynical bastard?
Self Pity Is Your Friend takes self loathing to a stupid level. I wrote this either when I was 17 or 18 and it really shows.
I Wanna Be Your Jocks was written as a 17 year old with excessive hormonal activity. I'm now older but the hormones haven't stopped. FUCK! This was written around the time when a phone conversation between Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles was recorded and he said how he would like to be her tampon. Upon hearing this I remarked that I would, personally, rather be a pair of womens underwear. This is a perfect example of what you get when you put far too much thought and effort into a concept that's totally idiotic.
Space Junk was written after listening to an excessive amount of Hawkwind. I had just scored a whole bunch of their albums from a girl called Frances (thanks!) and listened to "Space Ritual" so much that I was hearing whooshing and wooping everywhere I went. WE'RE UNDER SONIC ATTACK! It was also around this time that there were frequent news reports about MIR being in a major state of disrepair. I think boredom played a major role as well.
Smells Like Embalming Spirit was a reaction against all the Kurt Cobain worship going on at the time. Now don't get me wrong. I don't mind Nirvana. In fact, I think "In Utero" is a great pissed-off album. I just found the god-like status he achieved after killing himself a tad ridiculous. Ignored in life, idolised in death. An effective way to boost record sales but not very smart. It was mainly written for shock value and to piss off a lot of people. On the year anniversary of his death some nightclub had a tribute. A few of my friends attended with copies of the poem which they sticky taped over the walls of the venue. I wisely stayed home. Yes, I'm a pussy!
Vomit was written the day after I drank too much Southern Comfort. I can't even smell the stuff anymore. Eugh! I don't even know how I could drink such sickeningly sweet shit. And with Coke! Christ! I probably get too vivid and descriptive in this one. Definitely don't wanna go there again!
Butterfly is one of those poems which caused worry and concern amongst some girls I once knew. One day, one asked me if I had written any new poems and I read this one to her. She reacted with a blank look and asked me "Why?" Funny, I'm quite used to this reaction these days. I was listening to Tangerine Dream once and was asked the same question. Oh well. Anyway, I've always wanted to write something that starts off innocent and fluffy then ends up sinister. I'm not some kind of weird sicko, you know. Really, I'm not.
Custard was also written while I was 17. Can't you tell? I used to drink the stuff from a carton. I still occasionally do just to remind myself what it's like feeling ill and queasy. Ahh, the things people do for fun!
Dead is a fun little piece about sending your love to your sweetheart after having been violently dismembered. I wrote it when I was around 18 or so and I, unfortunately, don't remember what could have influenced me. I do remember being called sick by someone, though.
Completely Lose Your Mind is a lovely little verse about escaping paranoia and frustration by going absolutely apeshit bonkers. Don't ask me what influenced such a silly piece of insanity, I can't remember. All I remember was that it was a lot of fun to write, and I received a lot of strange looks whenever I read it to someone.
I Like Meat was written to piss off every vegetarian and vegan who has ever persecuted me, or anyone else, for eating flesh. One tried to turn me off salami once by telling me what's in it, such as heads, tongues, etc. They were quite annoyed by how little effect it had on me when my reply was asking where the nearest delicatessen was. Tsk, Tsk!
Love Is A Mong was written when I was 18 and experiencing a combination of love and lust. I was fully aware that my judgement and sense of logic was completely clouded by emotion causing me to view my situation, and object of desire, through rose coloured glasses. The basic theme of this poem is that love renders you absolutely stupid and incapable of thinking about anything but the person one has fallen for. It can potentially be an utterly shite state to be in, whine whine whine... Okay, I guess you've got the point, I'll just shut up now.
Don't Diss My Logic, Mutha-Fukka!!! was written in two sessions during late January 2002. After noticing how a lot of hip-hop lyrics are ego driven and involve heaps of bragging about guns and the size of the performers manly appendage, I figured that it would be rather amusing to write some. Considering I don't own any firearms and would rather not talk about my naughty bits (and the fact that I live in the western suburbs of Melbourne Australia as opposed to LA) it turned out rather silly. If you don't understand what the acronyms mean, count yourself lucky. The next time anyone asks me how a drop-dead gorgeous spunk-rat such as myself doesn't have a girlfriend, they'll be shown this. I'm sure it'll answer all their questions.