by Randall Stephens

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  • My first printed book of poetry "One For The Road" is all about travel and journey, a collection representing work written over a 6 year period.

    Featuring Hopeless crushes in strange places, communications breakdowns, heartbreak, isolation, floods in Thailand, scams in Malaysia, wankers in Auckland, disillusionment in India, freaking out in the Sahara, and a stolen pith helmet in Nepal. We go from exotic adventure to facing up the economic disparities in the world.

    It's 22 individual stories on 60 pages, staple stitched with illustrations, all created and composed by the author.

    Also there's elephants in it. It's pretty good.

    Includes unlimited streaming of 06 Don't Ask Why via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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The first album by Australian spoken word artist Randall Stephens, newly recorded performance versions of 19 classic poems, featuring duets with poet Steve Smart and music by hip hop artist Jacky T.


released September 1, 2013

Poetry performed by Randall Stephens, Alex Scott, Steve Smart, and Meaghan Bell
Music by Jacky T, Kim Lajoie, and Andrew Hone
Album mastering by Kim Lajoie - Obsessive Music



all rights reserved


Randall Stephens Melbourne, Australia

Randall Stephens writes poetry about other poetry, cycling, sexuality, masculinity, dinosaurs and your boyfriend. People have called Randall controversial. Randall has called people losers.

Randall has toured extensively in Australia, as well as in New Zealand, Singapore, Malaysia and Borneo.

Also competed in London and New York, but didn’t do very well so don’t tell him I mentioned that.
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Track Name: 01 What You Got?
(composite track with improv from Alex Scott)
Track Name: 02 Man Alive

I’ve been hit
I been hit with more tall sticks
than you could poke a stick at
I been stuck with the ugly stick
but here I stand, still itching
to be stickin’ it to the man

man alive
for all intents and purposes
and in all probability
representing the best
of the worst case scenarios
or at least the

‘cause I got two feet
walking the talk
two feet
for whom the bell toe jams
toeing a line of two night
ceiling-staring sightseeing stops
you can stick me in a sachet
but get me out of the bubble-wrap
because I’ve got y’proof of concept
a challenge to the precept
I got marching orders
with stories to tell
so fill me up with coffee
and fly me to the moon

I’ll fill you in on a backpacker’s backlog
got sent to the back of the line
drawn in the growing desert sands
with this pair of chopsticks
that used to be the Borneo rainforest
and when the Tarkine’s been used
to make toothpicks
don’t get picky with me
because I know what side
of that line I’ll be standing on

I want to fight the good fight
with bad timing, and
I wanna be the iron man of irony
... man
‘cause when I hear other poets
declare laudably
they don’t want to pause
to be applauded, me?
Well I got some plans
to make you clap your hands
holler and shout
don’t leave me in doubt
up here being out there
to face inner fears
steer you in a direction
of some inner circumspection
but then~ let it out!

because this will die
inside in time
if you don’t express it
so be incessant
have the determination
not to just live your life
in quiet desperation
in a homeostasis place
just taking up space

but take this with a grain of salt
take it away, take your time
but don’t take it for granted
on this planet, Earth
take each moment here
for all that its worth
because take it from me
it’s just one life you get man

and you have to give it
everything you can.
Track Name: 03 (intro) Behemoth
Track Name: 04 Behemoth

I rule the world
I am ancient and weigh tones
I’m the size at which
I have no natural predators
moving slowly and heavy
in a world of pre-history
sharing in an age of great beasts
giants and monsters

we are not yet burdened
with a future of small creatures
this is our world undivided
no men
no continents trying to be islands
I am your dinosaur

Diplodocus, my bones
will sometime become artifact
'til then I exist on a scale far larger
than an hominid mind can hold

I’ll yet defy their classifications too
saying I was avian but reptilian
but something or other else

no, my blood is warm
I do not fly away
we don't even need to know
what is standing in my way
only how soon it is getting out of it

we Dinosaurs had small brains
I’ll tear down trees
destroy a whole fucking forest
just to have something to eat

I produce over a tonne of shit each day
it's true I shit a tonne of shit everyday
for millions of years

when you rule the world
this is the manner
in which you conduct yourself
envy us long dead dinosaurs
you wish you could produce
that much shit

but I'm a behemoth with no regard
for what comes out of my arse
my feet stomp every step I take
I shake the ground around you
In fact I could make the Earth
for you without even trying

so come with me
I can shoe away your predators
with my tale
we can eat up all the forests
together stamp the ground
before us flat
before we fall
into tar pits to become…

a fossilized curiosity
incomplete skeletons closeted
in the ground for all time
but we will fire imaginations
for all time

they will marvel at us
small people filling their puny frames
with awe, envy and defeat
just imagining… our mountains of shit

we are the Diplodocus
a legacy left still yet left living
of the very-very large
too large in fact
for this small world
of people

to contain any longer.
Track Name: Alex Scott and Randall Stephens - 05 Bigger Than You Think

The point is, they are bigger than you think they are.

-How can you be sure? I can imagine some pretty big stuff! I imagine elephants are pretty big.

African or Indian?


Perfect example. Indian elephants may be as big as you think they are, but African elephants… African elephants are almost certainly bigger than you think they are. I mean, they’re really big.

-What about tigers?

Bigger than you think they are.

-Bigger than lions?


-See, I would have thought lions would be bigger than tigers. So perhaps only tigers are bigger than I think they are. Lions may indeed be smaller than I think they are.

I suspect not. I suspect that both lions and tigers are bigger than you think they are. But whereas lions may be only slightly bigger than you think they are, tigers are really much much bigger than you think they are. Everything is bigger than you think they are.

-They’re that big?


-no shit.
Track Name: (music by Jacky T) - 06 Don't Ask Why

if the world ever loses its mind
it will be in India

it will be in that place
where westerners come
seeking ancient wisdom
amongst inadequate sanitation
they’re here for a piece of peace
and tranquility
amongst an amazing harmony
of traffic horns

if the world ever needs a reality check
it will be in India the incredible
boasting more billionaires
and impoverished peoples both
than any other nation on Earth

if this one time a Sikh
a Muslim, a Hindu
and an atheist
are all sitting around together
and the atheist says…
is this some sort of joke?
the Sikh will say no
but the joke has ever been
on you

and you’ll be the only one getting it
laughing yourself hysterically
cynically, fanatically silly

what you looking at pal?
hey don’t mind me I’m just
in India

if the world ever needs an enema
it will be in India
because no shit
it’s in India
that the shit
is goin’ down man
and up
and around
and on the walls
and the floors
in the fires
the shit is in the streets
roads, footprints
and it is definitely, definitely
hitting the fan.

if there’s ever a fuse to be blown
street poles each wired
like whole phone exchanges
that in other countries
might seem a little strange
It just won’t be
be-cause you’ll be in India

looking for a net connection
in the middle of a city’s
traffic-jammed intersection
taking pedestrian leaps of faith
foregoing all fail-safes,
but it’s bumper to bumper
and you can’t walk through.
this… traffic?
this unbridled dystopian anarchy
that has slumped itself
right at the door of
the world’s most stifling

if you ever had
a night angry enough
to spontaneously combust
if you have ever felt
moral outrage to be so futile
you might have had to share sidewalks
with rows of naked children
grabbing for your feet
while you walked down the street

you will
have survived screaming contests
between them and your own
so-called conscience
picking the one you could console
saying it’s all right
it’s all right
it’s all right
even though
you know
it’s not
and it’s never going to be
-all right

if you’re ever feeling
as filthy as mud
on dust on dirt on mold
in piles of shit sweated into garbage
covered in mosquitoes,
that someone is now burning
for some lack-of reason
you will be in India
and you will be ridiculous
to have forgotten that

if history can’t explain anything
and isn’t even trying to anymore
if you remember then
why you long ago forgot the point
the point being
there is no point

If everything is gonna be fine
but whatever y‘do
don’t look down now
if there was anything that ever
really-actually went wrong
or could
or might
or should-have-but-didn’t,
or won’t
or it will
but you’ll never know
until its way, way too late
mate, you never know

it might be
it might just be
that you are

in India.
Track Name: 07 Last Seen

Last seen
as a square peg in a round hole
laughing politely in good humour at bad jokes
that patronise his nationality
while muttering under his breath
I’ll throw you on the barbeque
With another shrimp... motherfucker

last seen
being given shit about the fosters beer
that he wouldn’t touch
to save his life
from folks actually drinking it themselves
last seen blowing it
misspent and depleted
like uranium shelling out
for overpriced cookies
wrapped in plastic
that taste like air conditioning

last seen
-in the last scene from the movie
-with that guy
-who does that thing
-that one time
-that was cool
yeah that movie rocks

last seen rocking out to his own rhythm
when earphones are bunker windows
back into down town mental health states
last seen swan-diving into Ani DiFranco lyrics
late night at Leicester square
living in clip while chewing the fat
from those overpriced feeds.

last seen
leading rebellions against
any kind of commonality
common decency
common sense, or common causes
last seen causing problems in Spanish bus stops
like yeah you call the fuckin’ cops!

last seen on the offensive
during an anxiety attack
last seen on the floors
crunching guts into numbers
fit to be seen, sights
from emotionally safe distances

last seen
still sitting there fantasizing
from behind his sunshades,
thoughts pornographic
smirk on his face

last seen lying to your face
trying to hide in plain sight
running for the shadows
and cursing his own left footprints
like they were a bin full of broken umbrellas
in a spring hail storm

last seen unrecognized in the mirror
last seen saying
“are those my feet?”

last seen on a computer screen
last seen seeing himself on a computer screen
last seen looking for himself on a computer screen
a rough silhouette
to fit your description
at poor resolution

last seen as smudged fingerprints
cameo appearances
in second-hand stories
...or at least that’s what I heard

last seen never to be heard from again

last seen too far gone
and still he goes on
last seen expecting himself to be sighted
in every same-but-different way
last seen waiting somewhere
to see
what he will actually look like

Track Name: Randall Stephens and Alex Scott - 08 Saharan Siren Song

There was nothing out there to see
and I could see that

eyes couldn't contain it
legs couldn't resist it
that feeling you have
every time you're on a ledge looking down
hearing that voice, saying (Step off)

stepped out of the Berber tent and into the furnace
(Step off)
ahead – the black stubble stretch,
and in my hand a bottle of water.

...and it was that falling-off-feeling
stretched out flat forever
and calling to me
from desert mountain mirages
where a Bunsen-burner blue flame
sky ripples and swirls

at first I headed to the north
mistaking a cairn for your slumbering form –
but collected only blood red rocks
and bad omens for my trouble

those dunes
those dunes taunted me
like friends in high-school
who egg you on into a fight

before I left, I said – I always get my man –

nothing left behind to pull me back
those feet, once mine
pushing forward into nothing
like my turn in the queue has come

– that I was going to hunt you in the wilderness –

and I walked and I knew and I just realised I knew

-as I reflected that the night before
I had introduced myself
as your own conscience

I just realised I knew, I could die out here

it was as your conscience I set out to chase you
a mad man’s mission:
find a man in a grey gelaba in the black desert
as mad as it was, I knew I would succeed

I could die out here
not a realisation of the harshness of the Sahara
(I would succeed).
that we knew already
but I could die out here... in peace.

looking from the cairn
the silence of the place pounding
like a thousand hidden drums

like all my machinery got switched off
(the silence of the place)
and I’m not thinking
(the silence of the place)
not seeing
a thousand hidden drums…

I could walk out here and never come back
drown beneath those - black – rocks
like there was nothing else to do
I wanted to, I still want to

I made first for the tree then out
keeping the dunes to my right
and the mountains to my left
scanning the limits of the reliable –
where the trees became goats, became men
became finally nothing at all
shapes twisted by heat horizon

infinity at boiling point

everything was flecked with uncertainty

black marble, suddenly smashed by God

a man in a grey gelaba
in black desert who does not want to be found
will not be found

as he threw up his hands and said

I knew there was a road
but I also knew your hunger for nothing


and so struck out perpendicular

leaving empty scattered everywhere

a gamble in the desert

a mess not cleaned up

but it was together,
we walked back

turned around yes

- and you said you would not go out again

but I didn't come back

…you said you would not go out again –
and you did, and I sit here at camp

nothing else to do
so much nothing

your conscience rests

can’t contain it

and you are gone

not empty enough
not empty enough
not empty enough

Track Name: 09 Left Unsaid

told you so
but I’m not gonna say
I told you so
and a guy walks into a bar and says
and it’s just like I always say
we got a saying back where I come from
and... you don’t say
and it’s all he-said she-said anyway
and said the spider to the fly
say What?
and said God to Jesus
and Christ said unto them
say it like you mean it
talk is cheap
and a word in anger
and a way of wording it
and say, this saying goes...

the way, in which
I sat, waiting
for some, reason
or excuse, to approach
that girl, sitting there
in time, before
she got up, and left
the table, across
the room

from me

the chance, didn’t present
so the words, didn’t form
the girl, didn’t stay
long enough
for me

so now these words
stay here with me
not better left

Track Name: 10 Jump

I can tread water
like there is even a grace to it
I can breathe under water
…at least,
I try to now and then

never did learn to dive you know
all I can do is jump
a feet first drop down crash
to resurface salty
burning throat and nostrils
but I’ll be smiling
because I enjoyed falling

that leap and grasp for air
that rush of empty in the updraft
and I seem to just
in space for some moments
before the body of water moves on me
rushing up impossibly fast

then my limbs want for feathers
and a gliders grace but oh no
down I go

I’m a projectile launched out to see
with all the grace of a fridge trying to fly
failing, falling, closing on the water
until I crash piercing through
with a huge splash

my contact here
a flat-on-the-back bomb
shattering torpedo punch
going too deep to stay in control
and swim

coughing I come up to a bubbly hiss
with a huge air pocket in my pants
sting of that slap already searing my skin

but like I said above
before we jumped off into this
no matter the belly whacker smack
that comes after the jump
I still enjoyed

falling for you.
Track Name: 11 (intro) We'll Always Have Paris
(based on a true story I made up)
Track Name: 12 We'll Always Have Paris

meet me below Napoleon's star
as it fell

meet me beyond absinthe
becoming poisonous
beyond the silences
shattered by emergency sirens
sounding across the Seine

past all these places
this is where you'll find me
where I'm waiting for you
I'm past all these places
in Paris

meet me past the places
where the fires in my eyes
have been stomped out
or blanket-smothered
eyes that have seen enough
to scream out your name

where nights were over
before they began
where doors were locked
languages butchered
in brazen attempts
where the frayed ends
of sentences I left off
bit back

past all these places
there is one more place
one meeting space
where second chances
really do exist
and there is still
the perfect time
still waiting ahead
I’m still waiting
ahead, to tell you
how I feel about


now meet me at times
when I didn't tell you why-
I wanted you to meet me here
meet me there

meet me where my intentions
match my resolve and the air
I breathe and the sky
are the same thing

just once just one time
where this dancing
around my feelings
really could be a dance

not this desperate
flight from fears
my fears that vulnerability
will lead to rejection
the way marijuana
leads to heroine
be my heroin

find me meet me
or meet me half way
give me a key
for the front door
leave me with a light on

find me here
outside those others'
territorial demarcations
respective previous
we both needed to get away

find me here
where I (ahem) am declaring
and international law means
I get to keep this
courage through customs

Where my words are less confused
confiding instead of this hiding
my feeling felt,
for you

meet me

if you can't meet me in Paris
Track Name: 13 You Fucking Poet

You have eyes
window pained and steaming
as your insides gush
hot and cold

you have a skin
covering your insides
with outsides
so you can cover this
contraceptive membrane
in scars

you want to feel everything
you are hurt, everywhere
and you squirm
a million hands on you
and you love it
don’t you?

a shallow bottomed vessel
you are barely...
or not at all

your pain is
a transplanted heart failure
the world that ends each day
just a little.

house wine?
you are the house wine!
~ a righteous lefty
skimming pages for the right recipe
so you can set them on fire
trying to find
the perfect formula…

poor soul
you really do
want the cake
and eat it too

or to have it
not to eat it, as well
just so you can tell them...

all about...
the hunger
–oh how I hunger!
or about how beautiful the cake is
–it was so so... beautiful!
or the anticipation
-cake I yearn for you!
I want to eat it!
oh, If only you could!

or tell them about
the last bad dining experience:
I was young and innocent
and dining

whatever because like cakes... (meh)
you can keep your cake
and I hope you two are good together

'cause it’s a cake-walk for the rest
while you're off, lost
unfed... when you can’t see the forest
for the cake …trees
trees with leaves
like pages
for you to read into
between lines
trying to find
the real reason
while your stomach
stays empty

you’re as fragile as the answers
found in philosophy classes
or the bottom of wine glasses
why don’t you drink from a cask of arse
you farcical bastard!

the species endangered only by itself
a Panda bear
picking extinction from the wine list
sitting at an altitude where bamboo
is the only thing that grows
and it’s about as nourishing
as cardboard

so you’re not going anywhere
when if you could just
keep your hands to yourself
for five seconds
you could roll down hill
…and eat cake

you’re a Butterfly
caught in the chaos
of your own storms

but for all that –
and perhaps more
you can paint with words
what no canvas can hold
and you alone
can photograph
what a heart-in-motion looks like
and you alone can see
majestic ranges
in our mole hills
and you alone
can conquer the whole world

so drink deeply from that split milk
twist your knickers into a fantastical tale
and terror and romance and more
no further afield than your kitchen draw

hollow yourself out
and take us all on this journey
hey –
we’ll even carry the baggage for you!


you ...fucking ...poet.
Track Name: 14 Not With You At You

latching on to that laughter
like it’s a life raft
and you can get out that water you were in
laughing at those sharks
who were trying to bite you in half

and if you capsize
you can laugh yourself back the right side up
laugh as if there really is enough left
in that half-empty cup
laugh at the half-empty everywhere
drinking it up!

laugh like the error-mongers with ledgers
are sitting right there on your window ledge
vampires sucking up your follies
and ignoring theirs

laugh like you’re on the gas
having a gas
you’re a laughing ass
loving every minute of it
but now unable to stop it

laugh at the milk gone funny in your fridge
and laugh at your own shakes
your loneliness-baked brain
and all your cans of baked beans
which means …ahahahahahahaha!

laugh irrationally at that rash
an itch you let get way too scratched
laugh at that long time since that phone last rang
laugh at the cold comforts from the coffee cup
laugh at funny looks you get
laugh nervous covering nervous laughter
man you’re a disaster!
not waiting to happen

laugh at the pains lining your face
laugh in laughter’s place
standing in due to sickness
laugh your life, your love
at losses
laugh it off- that you’re a loser
laugh as it all comes undone
and come on down

like that’s a virtue
or I will hurt you
and then laugh ‘til it hurts you

yeah laugh
keep laughing

I said laugh, fucker, laugh!
Track Name: 15 I Statements

am tired of reading your bad grammar
‘cause I’ve read too many times in text
persons referring to themselves
with a lower case "i"

should not put themselves
in the lower case
there are millions of mediocre men
to do that for you.

when you write I
use the capital I
your life, a capital enterprise
you should be a capital I
and be an eye-full

don't sell yourself short
with bad grammar,
ladies and gentlemen
in this life, if nothing else
you deserve…


You have to be that I
that needs a capital!

you’re the big letter
you need a shift key
you need a CAPS LOCK
You might even need to be printed in bold!

you need
to take that much effort
over yourself

‘I’ being a word for ‘You’
belongs in the uppercase
So don’t talk yourself

and when you speak
I want to hear you talk that way too
speak of yourself,
as if you are talking
in capitals, because

Track Name: 16 BREASTS!

breasts are the best oh yes
I'm talking about breasts
and the time has now come to confess
how impressed I am with their shape
their firmness
there's really no contest
for where else my eyes could get


and ah it's just my luck
to then get busted
staring at her bust
then lose her trust
oh now she's real suspicious
that I only think about what juts
out from her chest namely her

believe me I have tried my best
not to be some vile letch
but I am powerless
in resisting temptation
when in any given situation
if an opportunity should occur
of being able to ogle
over there at her breasts

it is for these
for which I continue for to quest
though it oft-times
seems utterly hopeless
as most women just think I'm a pest
to say nothing about
joining me to get undressed
where, I could get a better look at
yeah, her breasts

on the crest of a conquest
I want the bequest
to please be her guest
by all means make... a mess
all over her breasts

breasts, I do not jest
their shapes have become enmeshed
upon my very consciousness
threatening my equilibrium and wellness
my imagination gives me no rest
and on exposure to them now
my intellectual power plumm-ets
spiralling into an infinite regress

damnable breasts I say
they're horrible monsters like Loch-Ness!
and like Captain Ahab chasing
the White Whale I too am obsessed
by those compelling and comely breasts

now I have the onus
of saying to their owners
in the tone of this poem
I mean no disrespect in my intent
but my fellow human beings
It is so, so -hard-
to ignore what I've seen

I mean I really just could
spend whole days gazing
stunned and open-mouthed
'cause they're amazing
pondering those magnificent
works of art that are
so close to both our hearts

your breasts.
Track Name: 17 Darth Vader Died, My Dad

My Dad couldn't tell a poem
from a recipe for lentil soup
he has exceedingly little use
for either
that’s just two of the differences between us

in fact for the longest time
all we had in common
was a fondness for Star Trek
and loathing for one another
back then we interacted
only when the school principal
contacted him
your son is in detention
your son is out of control
he’s about to get kicked out
of this school again

those phone calls were my biggest fear
he got mad at my behaviour
I compared him to Darth Vader
likening my Dad to that evil black monster
‘cause how could he be my father?

when I was sixteen
I scratched off his face
from my infant photograph with him
he had no right to hold
who that baby had became
doesn’t know who I am
spend time with me -doesn’t try

confiscated possessions in punishment
things missing from my room
and him already at work
not there so I could show him
how much I hate him
didn’t talk to him for days
for weeks that would have been for-ever
if I could help it
living under his roof
his rules, in his house his Television
his unreasoning bullshit
his face scratched out
I just wanted to punch it in
but couldn’t…
because he was much bigger than me

with the end of high school
our tension eased
without principals calling
we had a kind of agreement in principal
don’t bother me and I won’t be bothered by you
I began working up that HECS debt
we might sometimes sit together watching
some Star Trek

for years it was left at that
until I saw another photograph
with the same face that had I scratched
away from me as a baby
my father’s face in a photograph of me
different hair colour
smaller stature sure
but there his features were
written all over my face
as I left for overseas
I heard him call me his Frankenstein’s monster
let loose in the world
recognising now that I’m assembled
from different components of him
more than facial features
I have found his strengths
and frailties similar to mine

at family gatherings delving into every topic
polite company prefers not to discuss
my poor sisters and mother duck for cover
they will never understand
these globally-warmed heated discussions,
pleading with us for no more
of the exchanges we fire like proxies
for Andrew Bolt and Michael Moore
failing to see the animation twinned in our faces

we both –know- an opinion isn’t worth itself
unless y’can beat someone else
over the head with it
it’s not live at let live
live to not suffer fools,
who are foolish in their foolishness
we’re both convinced we have the monopoly of truth,
then call a truce, agreeing to disagree
having dueled a worthy adversary
we’ve found our unique way to communicate

in years between scratching out his face
and finding it the same one
atop my own head
I re-watched Return of the Jedi
with more analytical eyes
where Darth Vader the begotten dark father dies
unmasked, and redeemed
reborn in the arms of his son

I understand now those vast spaces
between our words
those years lost opposing worlds
generation gaps between cats in cradles
and discs in the DVD player
watching Star Trek together

I know now why I like a good argument
or even a bad one
my father laughs like me, from the belly
he laughs at what I laugh at
in a world that all too often needs laughing at
he enjoys his books and his bikes
a quiet drink and time alone to think

what makes my dad, my Dad makes me, Me.
an apple, not falling far from his tree
his Frankenstein is my Darth Vader

I love him, simply stated
or better articulated
how David said it to Captain Kirk
at the end of Star Trek 2
today Dad the time has come
to say,

“I’m proud… very proud, to be your son.”
Track Name: Alex Scott with Randall Stephens - 18 The Future of Entertainment

I am a tricked out sitcom,
A dramatized dominatrix documentary bio-pic
Of a cross-genre, cross promoting,
Cross-dressing exploitation game show.

Middle Class
Middle-caste untouchable

Every channel is the
Envy channel

I’m going to be a pop star
Learning to dance
For an audience
Of millions

I’m a new sport!
Japanese salarymen are placed into sacks
And rolled down steep, steep hills
While trying to guess at numbers
Locked in briefcases
Carried by an army of repentant fat people
Yelling fitness messages from the sidelines.

And they swap wives
While living in the same house,
Under guard
And with everything on camera,
And I mean everything:
First use of endoscopes in a prime time
Non-medical context.
My liver
Will have it’s own website.

This will be my diary-cam
And it’s all going to be online baby
So post your comments in my inbox,
And blog me!
Blog me now!
God damn it! I’m going to be a forum!
Moderated by a spastic nun on a bicycle.

I am screensavers!
I am a Hungarian would-be starlet singing Mariah Carey in engrish
You can’t miss this!
Cos I’m your catchy ringtone
So swing low
In to my late nights
And I’ve got numbers and breasts
And numbers and breasts
And numbers and breasts
And a universe of text messages
And asian massages
That are HOT, HOT, HOT
So hot it’ll melt your mobile
And you’ll have to get a new one,

What a drag…
Because I’m living in the outback,
In the 1800’s,
In the future.
And it’s all a re-enactment
Of something that never happened.

And I can see where you will stand on every issue
Because I can see you
From where I’m standing.
Because I’m in your back yard,
Blitzing all over your shrubs
And giving you a water feature,
Soon to be a major motion picture.

I was a chef once!
A culinary contender
Before I went on that bender
And slept with a bunch of footballers’ wives.
That’s why they split me,
Like a transporter
Into two and now I battle myself
In a culinary cook-off
Merging styles and culinary inspirations
On a budget, to beat the clock,
And I can’t stop.
Till I put dinner on the table of
Working families everywhere.

Yes! I am the utterly unnecessary part
Of this otherwise complete meal.
A serving suggestion,
Suggesting ingestion,
And digestion
Or failing that - injection
Of perfection.

You won’t recognize yourself,
At the unveiling of your extreme makeover
Because I’ve covered you
with 752
Pairs of lips
Cloned from Angelina Jolie
And grown on the backs
Of an army of mice

And all your mouths are trying to scream at once
And you are hideous and wonderful
And we’ll dip you in molten gold to make
A new Australian Idol!

You and me – we could rule this galaxy together!
Just think about it!
No, don’t think, ACT NOW!
Or forever hold
To your piecemeal solution
To a reality gone off the rails
But not off the air.
Because it’s everywhere!
Everywhere you’re not looking.
So you need something to believe in!

Believe in me!

I am the truth, and the light!
And a designer brand of eyewear.

I am the board game,
You can play along at home!

I am ten year old
Born again, again Christians
Strapped into wheelchairs
And flung into one another
Using high velocity rocket sleds.

I am a veterinary emergency.

I encourage the kind of brand loyalty
That nightly wets the sheets
Of advertising execs.

I am myself, on Ice.

I’ve got more online friends and connections than GOD!
And I’ve never felt more real!
Track Name: 19 Beholden The Giant

Just got my bicycle serviced
and now I’m nervous
picked her up this evening
this demon cleaned
and parts replaced
components upgraded
scores to settle

heavy metal that shines
like jewellery
grumbles like an elephant
purrs like a kitten
cost me
like a couple of weeks pay

she don't play nice
with the other vehicles
been feeling that winter neglect
holding a grudge
can smell a car door opening
a mile away
and doesn't like it

rides up gutters
like they aren't there
they don't exist
neither does fatigue
or dark or up-hills
downhill’s exist though
she squeals with glee
whenever we see one

laughs at the wind
and keeps taunting it
at my expense
she doesn't care about her rider
just uses me
to get herself from A to B
She never gets tired
but makes me that way
demands respect
seldom returns it
powered by sweat
by doesn't recognise that herself

as hard as I breathe
standing on the peddles
there's no end to her greed
it's the insatiability
of simple mechanics
she runs off no battery
needs no petrol
isn't affected by dehydration
cold or heat
my calories alone
keep her going
and that is all she costs to run

the world's oil could disappear
oceans die
the air could become unbreathable
she wouldn't care
she can’t be stopped
-all she needs is ground
keeps eating it up
while barely making a sound
she just keeps humming along
knowing it all belongs behind her

she’s stubborn and unforgiving
and unstoppbale and...
I love her!

but don't tell her
I said any of this
‘cause she'll hurt me

a mean old horse
with a vicious temperament

she'll never exactly be
a traffic stopper
but then again
she won’t ever be
stopped by traffic either.
Track Name: 20 Pissing in the Stream of Consciousness

George Lucas tried to fight the Vietnam War with Ewoks
university students used sayings and slogans
figured they could fight a war
against the war if they wore badges
placards with platitudes like
no blood for oil, only bush I trust
only I don't know what that's supposed to mean
because I sure-as-fuck
don’t trust the other type of Bush much either

don’t get me wrong I'm on your side in the sidelines
it's just that I like to play hard to get with my allegiances
yet am real slutty and sleep around with my cynicisms
I’m an equal opportunist

because if justice is blind
then injustice is looking right at you
and down your open collar
leering at the goods in jovial jocular vernacular

I’ll redistribute the world's mirth
while westerners' waistlines increase in girth
all that waist and the belt buckle breaks
and I could use a break in the chains of poverty
turn them into fashion accessories
goes well with your hir shirt
break the cycle of carrying your crosses
and getting cross with your parents

these are
issues of impoverished metaphors that I over-produce
flooding world markets with over-priced unnecessary poetry and verse
that I never make enough time to (uh what was it)… rehearse
inbuilt redundancy that I've built into this redundant sentence
slavishly labouring away below the propriety line
third world, third class, third bass
fourth time lucky

Got me fooled into thinking
thinking they're hip and that I can be
but my black jeans aren't tight enough
wait a minute I haven't got any, patience
is a virtue like other virtues I can't remember
remember there were about seven of them though
kinda like the deadly sins
I got a handle on the deadly sins
and is it just a coincidence that there are 7 of each?
maybe they should get together and duke it out
the winner takes all and you can take it from me

battle of the sins and virtues, that’s a true spectator sport
and you can leave us out of it
they could have a showdown down at the battleground
like at the end of that movie the wanderers only less…
only less,
less like it's a relatively obscure early 80s cult film classic
directed Phil Kaufman

but I don’t got time to explain about that now
we’re out of its stock
and I’m on the clock
on the dial, on the edge
on the phone, on the mend
on a bender, on a quest
on a soap box
on a roll
on facebook under a fake name
underneath the radar and beneath your contempt
beneath my dignity?
now that's getting pretty fuckin' low
especially by today’s standards

because these days
kids can even get bullied over the internet
threatening emails and cyber space
so it all starts to seem as appealing as Siberia
like there ain't nothing’ out there but a vast electronic wasteland
fields of frozen forest
frost bitten bitches bitchin' about emo
emo ain’t your thing bro?

well to tell you the truth
I think you’re just mad about your lost youth
you criticise the kids now as if you were never young
determined to prove you too were different
no? Like you never wore strange clothes
or felt like dying, maybe I'm lying
or assuming too much
I'm not, after all, basing this on any evidence
only this feeling in the air…
or maybe it’s a smell…
smells like teens drinking spirits

maybe that's just me and my liquid breakfast
90 proof and I got nothing to prove
except that I can get drunk
drunker than you, much drunker that you!
so I can start yelling a Marlowe line or two at you
at midnight mid city before doing a round of one-arm push ups
I’m pushing 30
better grow up sober up?

shut the fuck up!

sobriety is a fine thing in moderation
but overrated and its effects wear off quickly
I’m a godamn poet don’tchya know it
and I'm fielding questions like
"haven't you got anything better to do?"

I scratch my head for scratching my balls
and turn back to the computer screen
looking for the answers to come careening out of a keyboard
with the clocks pendulum
threatening to dismember me at every stroke

death wears a smile
time wears down my defences
and my jokes wear themselves thin
I might be becoming unbearable
but I’m still smarter than your average bear
if only just barely

stayed back late at work and mucked around
photocopying my soul
got caught by the cleaners who took me to the cleaners
to keep my dirty little secret
although I secretly desire to tell everyone my dirty little secrets
which I guess is why I write and perform this stuff

I want to find catharsis
meaning, pathos, mojo
new depths of self expression and poignancy
I really want to get laid
but this payoff has been much delayed.

ain’t kidding
ain’t funny
you think I’m in this for the money
or the fame
well think again stranger
it’s all just a set of stages
and I’m gonna take ‘em one at a time

I'm so afraid of what's next
afraid of what I might say
and what's left unsaid
where the devil fears to tread
angels on my shoulder whisper dirty limericks
that I don't have the balls to recite here.
the balls in your court
I am shit at sport
far too short, besides
that's the best excuse I'm gonna give you
for making excuses

so if you’ll excuse me
I’m off to get my rocks off

I'm late,
and I'm not even dressed the part
all I got is what I'm wearing
I've traded my dignity with the emperor
for some new clothes

and I don’t know much about fashion
so please,
can you take a look and tell me…

what do you think?
Track Name: 21 Remember

you’d forgotten you much she smokes
a lot and maybe too much
and maybe she knows this
and maybe you want to tell her
-but you don’t need to tell her

wouldn’t do either of you any good

you want to cough to make a point
could dig yourself into trouble again
if you push this
not in a talkative mood
barely says two words to you
blowing cigarette smoke out her mouth
like it’s pushing away
every lame excuse you could make
expels it with a slight whistle
not sure if that’s sounded to bother you

but it does

hair golden-brown
like tarnished jewellery
nice if she looked after it better
which she doesn’t
told her that before
saying there isn’t ever enough time
lines on her face
that aren’t enough sleep
showing hours in the day
she slept through alone
not necessarily by herself
just… alone

sunburn turned straight into freckles
her skin remains pale
shirt of yours she’s wearing
doesn’t fit well
but you still think she looks good in it
eyes out the window
locked on something in a blue sky
away from you…

can’t remember what colour her eyes are
and that’s sad
because you know it might help

if you could remember
Track Name: 22 Turbulence and Other Unfinished Business

tonight I cruise around in a borrowed car
fueled on a dwindling supply of borrowed time
fossil from old bones from older seas
under a sky too big to hold anything as small as this
in its favour
tonight is a sky full of turbulence

it may not feel like it
but these are the good times
the only ones we have to spare

after putting my father on a plane again
wishing him a good trip
and driving away in his car
wonder how many more times I can
before one of these car seats
will remain empty

don’t know when the last time I get to hug my mother
is going to happen
only that it will happen
and will only happen once
so I’ll have to hug her like it is that time
each time

simultaneously hoping it hasn’t happened already

because I still need… to need
still need tomorrow to emerge from plane turbulence
for me, for my father, for my arms
around my and every other person’s mother too

last time my plane hit a patch of turbulence
it was above Brisbane
the woman sitting next to me
grabbed the moan in her throat too late
and I heard it
I laughed my arse off
feeling utterly alive
happy enough with what I have had here
that I felt immediately ready to die
without wishing to

it was only after I landed
that I got scared
and it’s only after these thoughts
had become real words
that I knew I was wrong
it was only in recalling
what I’d previously heard
that I listened to it

the sound of the human being
next to me who simply did-not-want
every single thing she had done
this week
this year
to be the last one of those

tonight, I think about... everything
everything I'm yet to put in the face of those fuckin' poets
everything not yet read, visited or photographed
everything I have not loved enough
loathed enough
seen enough
and I have not shit-eaten-fucked-thought-talked-fought-fled and bled

for all that could be said in praise of contentment
and counting one’s blessings
I want what that woman’s turbulence-induced moan wanted
and the firm grasp of my father's shaken hand

I want more

tonight I want more
so if this somehow were to end up
being my last poem
that I never intended it to be
know that I ate every dish
I sung every song
and faced every face
savouring but still saving space

after each helping
living expectantly
loving that living

and saving room for a little bit more