Daily Archives: March 9, 2017

Ballistic by Dominic Albanese

I am not a silent poet

2,100 trans gender people
killed since 2003 or so world wide
a corrupt govt here
in lock step with
in 4000 dollar suits
kids not get enough to eat
abuse neglect slander libel
an more cock a mamey lies
en Fibber MaGee….movie prophesy
songs poems polemics
nuke leak oil leak assorted natural
an man made disasters
is it gonna be Mad Max
or Monkey bang on monolith
I don’t know
religion greed politic greed
upmanshad …silly willy an the gang
calling all cars BOLO for any
*other*needs a bullet letter
to extinction
while really fat rich people
plot some outer space escape
leaving us me you n Gus
the mess they made
who knows? a whimper a bang
earthquake flood tornado?
or a
bunch of us
sittin on benches
crying bout why

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Domestic Lawnmower Maintenance by Charlotte De’Ath

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

prelude C D

Sharpening Camomile For Blade Goodbyes

my bruise has all the colours of

autumn (fall)

i fell

i told the police officer

the colours are pretty

purple and brown shades (very this season)

he wants to know the history of the bruise

dust for the bruise’s fingerprints

check it out on the DNA database

                        in truth

                        hate got me in the gut


                        love smacked me around the face

                        there was a kick

                        but by then i’d fallen

                        into winter

                        all my extremities

                        turning blue

he says i should have a cup of hot sweet tea

he says i’m in shock

i told him for me this is love

and i’m right in it up to my neck

he says i should press charges

throw the book at the bastard

                        when i was a little girl

                        i pressed                    


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Fly Tipper by Charlotte De’Ath

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

you must go – you’ve been caught red handed soiling silver linings

in the thick of all those thieving manifestos

you picked pockets stole precious lockets

forged them into a meddle of honour

to be

presented by a statue of some dead king or queen or whatever

as we danced all night pretending to be fire flies – you romance blasphemer

you bastard

you must go – you unnamed curse

of a disease don’t pretend to be the boy next door

you ripped the wonderland out of my alice

and dumped it on the side of the road to peter pan’s playground

a dereliction of fire beyond anyone else’s control

my charcoal shadow

has absorbed all the gas you’ve exhaled

crossed its shadowy arms and cried buckets at the bitter taste

but i am not the tragic heroine of your movie

or the broken bits of your tales tied up…

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