David Stevens

Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Mormon boys

In Uncategorized on March 4, 2017 at 4:40 pm

Lonely Mormons

far from home

wandering through the great apostasy.

Tempted by Coca Cola,

shunning coffee and other like beverages,

is your truth too good for me?

You all rush to share it

with the pretty Asian girls.

Was there nothing on

those buried gold plates

Elohim wanted you

to share with me?

I’ll just have to cross my own desert.

Not for the first time.

*****

Those Mormon boys were hanging around Chinatown in Sydney, and no matter how many times I walked past, ready to talk to them about Joseph Smith, they were too busy sharing their truth* with pretty girls.

*In the words of Vyvyan#, “I’ve never heard it called that before”.

#When some pompous old bloke said he wanted to “protect” Felicity Kendall.%

%”Felicity, you fill me with electricity” – Rik

 

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Lost in Venus

In Uncategorized on February 18, 2017 at 11:57 am

Sniff of chlorophyl

whiff of ether

Look down

fronds part and unfurl

cupping

leafy embrace

cool breeze

tugs you in

sinking the green

moss is velvet

plant yourself

lean in and

skin unfurls to mask you

the perfect kiss

inside out

you are draped

try to make sense

of distant calls

lose yourself in

the wind blowing

through her branches

are you dead

or are you

loving the alien?

***

 

lost on venus

lost on mars

press up against

foreign atmosphere

do you lose yourself

if you love the alien?

 

Old school anime

In Uncategorized on February 13, 2017 at 10:18 pm

MARINE BOY

You need your gadgets boy,

and how cool they are:

rocket propeller shoes

electric boomerang

oxy gum.

But you will never fit in.

Everything underwater will always be blurry before your eyes

obscuring the truth

that the mermaid is never taking you home to meet her parents.

You are a fish out of water, boy

Always just one stick of gum away from death.

That’s no way to live.

Secret of the Ninja

In Uncategorized on February 12, 2017 at 9:33 am

Ninjas can’t dance

Ninjas can’t dance

if the music ain’t disco

That is their secret limitation,

a truth that is a threat to their dignity.

It ain’t much.

They can still kill

and fly and turn invisible

and such.

Just don’t expect them to bust a move,

if it ain’t disco.

Bangs and whimpers

In Uncategorized on February 12, 2017 at 7:53 am

Surprise

Cancer too is a prize

You don’t have to queue at the newsagent’s

to buy a ticket

They slip it in with the teddy bear,

the beatrix potter china setting,

the first photograph album,

unnoticed.

The final draw may be foreshadowed

in the missed stitch in the booties

grandma made

put aside, only used at your Baptism.

(“It was her last pair.  Do you think she knew?”)

Unlike the contents of your bowels

or your most recent projectile vomit,

it is not discussed in polite company.

It may stick its head around the corner at 3.30am,

pop into Dad’s thoughts as he tries to settle you

and sees his own mortality as he pictures his own father

rocking him 30 years ago,

and his grandfather walking the floor twenty years before that.

A link in the chain between first and last

Somewhere between the savannah and the heat death of the universe.

You can buy more tickets later on,

or be the lucky recipient of a random allocation.

Just like a five million dollar lottery.

You say you’ll keep working,

but you’ll find that you can’t.

Your colleagues no longer look at you,

well, not the same way.

Early retirement either way.

And lots of time to think.

Sralya Day

In Uncategorized on January 25, 2017 at 6:02 am

Here’s some culture for Australia Day – get it inta ya.

Sralya Day, now its a thing. Not just some dusty public holiday at the fag end of the summer holidays, an extra long weekend for free just to make returning to school easier for Mum and Dad. A thing. With concerts and stuff. Sam the former red Wiggle still needs to make a living. Hey, Sneaky Sound System are on at Liverpool, but nobody believes me.

 

FLAG DAY

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in flags

and went to the pub.

Funny, eh!

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

And all the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

but I was too scared.

Everyone looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.

Alright?

You sad party thing.

The scariest day of the year

In Uncategorized on February 11, 2016 at 7:27 am

The scariest day of the year is approaching fast. Will he…? Won’t she … ? Don’t they …? Should I …? is it legal to … ?

I’d remove Valentine’s day from the calendar, except my powers don’t extend quite that far … yet. The gifts are tacky and / or market forced upon us, everybody feels a little squeamish, and desperation hits town like a tsunami.

Here is the perfect solution. We are of course all literary types. What better gift then than an entire volume dedicated to lerve? And not just lerve, but lerve in all its strangeness. Weird love, Alien love. Impossible love. Deadly love. Buy it for yourself. Buy it for someone else, and if they respond weirdly, its ok, you were just being like, all ironic and post-modern.

But buy it you should, post-haste. “Love Hurts.” You know it does, and you know you want it. Its speculative fiction, and its about love. What’s not to like?

Love Hurts

Love Hurts

For the lover’s month of February, there is a promotion over at Goodreads which you can check out just by left clicking on this strangely highlighted text right here.

And in advance, here is a poem (for want of a better word) for Valentine’s Day:

 

Cute girl at the Indian take-away

She doesn’t just have eyes for me,

the girl who serves me Tandoori.

Her quizzical glance and little smile,

is not an exchange of irony,

though I do react,

I cannot resist,

when she swallows me in

with big dark eyes

and the world shrinks down to size,

a planet built for two.

I sip on my mango lassi

while I wait for my curry,

and I watch while she does it again,

one after the other,

with all the men.

At last I comprehend.

She finds us hard to understand,

she speaks English but is not fluent

in Australian.

She stares straight at me

with huge eyes like an owl’s,

trying to comprehend

my flattened vowels.

Totally absorbed,

in the groove,

concentrating on how my lips move.

The tremble of her little duck pout

is just her working out

the words I said

by whispering them again

in her head.

“Tandoori chicken roll

on plain naan.”

“With mint sauce?”

“Of course.”

Smile.  Yearn.

Happy Australia Day

In Uncategorized on January 25, 2016 at 9:47 pm

I don’t like it. It shouldn’t be a thing. Why does stuff have to change? It used to be a dusty little public holiday tucked away at the end of the summer school holidays, a final gasp. Now its concerts and loyalty tests and mass barbecues. We didn’t used to wave flags, we all knew where we lived.

Sorry kiddies. Listen to me carrying on! It’s not like we haven’t seen it all before, somewhere. And so now I repeat myself …

FLAG DAY

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in flags

and went to the pub.

Funny, eh!

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

And all the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

but I was too scared.

Everyone looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.

Alright?

You sad party thing.

AUSTRALIA DAY

In Uncategorized on January 25, 2015 at 5:40 pm

Given it is a public holiday in Australia it would be un-Australian for me to work, regardless of the fact that I am not there, so I lazily repost my alleged poem that I have posted on previous such occasions. In Australia you can tell when it is Australia Day by all of the people walking around dressed in Australian flags. Otherwise, you might not know that it is Australia Day, or that you are in Australia. And you wouldn’t want to make a mistake about that, there could be consequences. One day, wearily pushing a pram and dragging some kids through the end of a hot day, I was accosted by two scantily clad girls who yelled in my face ‘Smile! Be happy! Its Australia Day’. I was about to quote some poetry at them, when I noticed two burly boofheads in the shadows, waiting for an excuse to flatten some unpatriotic idiot like myself. So cowardice being the better part of valour, I walked silently away. I still remember when Australia Day was a dusty little public holiday tucked away towards the back of the summer pack after the Big Guns of Christmas and New Year, hey another day off, thank you very much. Now it is a thing. Not unlike a sad party thing. Oh, how I hate being told how to feel! Oh, how I hate not being on a quiet south coast beach like Bulli, not stylish enough for the body fascists (and as yet unnoticed by other fascists). There are things I miss about home. But there are things that I detest. Rosie Batty was named Australian of the Year. Congratulations Rosie. Rosie’s young son Luke was murdered by his father at cricket practice, in public, in daylight, in front of all his friends, in front of their parents. She now campaigns against domestic violence. To read some of the comments on Facebook from her fellow Australians, denigrating her award, besmirching and blaming her, you would think that she was a murderer. Lord, some people should keep their mouths shut. Walking through life without a heart.

FLAG DAY

It was Flag Day

so we wrapped ourselves in flags

and went to the pub.

Funny, eh!

Everybody else had the same idea, but.

And all the flags were the same

because we are all Flaglanders.

It would have been nice to wrap myself

in the flag of difference

but I was too scared.

Everyone looked the same.

The fun idea had become

A Sad Party Thing.

It doesn’t matter.

The flag unites us.

Our fear of looking different unites us.

All eyes are wary on Flag Day.

Everyone smiles with their mouths

as they lift their beers,

but all those eyes are looking about.

And those eyes are quick.

You don’t want to stand out.

Not on Flag Day.

There are no excuses.

It is not “I pay my taxes” day.

It is not “I am a human being, I have rights” day.

It is fucking Flag Day.

Alright?

You sad party thing.

Another strange Australian animal …

In Uncategorized on December 18, 2014 at 7:10 pm

Numb-bats

Body artfully draped

Wrist carefully exposed

Window opened just a little

A late night pose

.

Trap wary

though jaded

Set the scene

Lure them in

.

Room ransacked

Car carjacked

Best of all that morning

Feelings stolen away

.

Cheap furry buddhas

Bodhi-bat-vas

Take away nirvahna

Delivered every night

.

Take it all away.