let them eat cake
luuuuuuuurve
rain tears
too cool
shiver
suspicious and sneaky
talk to me Andrew, i'm lost
do not go unorganised into that good night
"if you have to ask, you'll never know"
untitled
... milquetoast ...
melancholy hits me from behind
I didn't think I'd feel this way
and feel so sad when I'm moving on
- moving on to something new and great
the way we're all moving on...
so I find myself surprised to feel it
and this strange sadness
is tinged with happiness and grateful shroud
we did it, conquered the shit and fuckheads
and made it through to the next level...
and we had some great times
we'll have many more, fate willing
all there can be is hope of staying together
as we split to the four winds
facing things alone for a while...
but tonight; with you, my friends
good music, good booze, good feelings
I am so happy I knew you all
and a toast, raise your glass with me:
here's to us - here's to the future.
26-01-96
heretic.rvl/oOze
Dedicated to my friends, the guys who I went through high school with.
The group that put up with each other most of the time through all our
moods and the crap the world threw at us. You know who you are. Thanks
guys, we'll mosh again soon...
milquetoast riot
~
LET THEM EAT CAKE
when the world bows out
it will be a whimper and not a bang...
no hope of anything grand
at the end, you know...
no blinding flash of light
or eternal burning fires
simply an endless voiceover
and one final jingle
and the masses will die out
clutching their Big Mac vouchers
as they sit huddled
by their dying TVs
and they'll look to the source
of their great encompassed wisdom
and ask of their god
what to do to stop the end
but Fran can't help
and neither can Mr Cooper
and the peasants revolting morals
will palpitate across a screen
watched endlessly from under
the peaks of millions of Chicago Bulls caps
the 30-minute (minus ads) resolution
will infest their fetid minds
and when this life ends
and the credits start to roll
the castlist for humanity
will be nothing more than names
and the forgotten intellectuals
will long have starved
from lack of an audience
and books will cease to be
for if no one reads what the writer writes
and no one believes the philosopher
there is little hope for a race
who will still then sit and wait for answers
looking ever to their mass-communicated
altars of passive entertainment
as they take it all in and believe
and go away singing the jingles
and the movie won't have ads
between the action and plot
there will just be telemall shopping
and short attention spans, around 30 seconds.
then finally the theories of Darwin
will be proved conclusively, without doubt
the human species will have evolved
to a form best suiting their environment
for ever more Homo Sapiens will squat
watching Baywatch with their one gigantic eye
resting their regular Coke in collectable McDonalds cup
on the flat tops of their foreheads
and pure cholesterol will course
through their veins and hardened arteries
as they drool on their Orlando Magic singlet
out of their slobering Whopper-sized mouth
and the last human on earth
on the fatal last day of existance
will turn away from the darkened TV screen
that at the final toll betrayed its followers
and look around it to see where it is
and ponder life with its one brain cell
(the one normally used to decide between
Jordan and Johnson, Maccas or Jackas)
and one tiny thought will take hold
one final constipated neuron activity
will yield the one final cry of the human race
the final summation of "why?"....
the 25-frames-per-second imagination
will ask of the empty wasteland
"what was the question?"
and fart, and whimper, and die.
21-01-96
heretic [rvl.CiA.oOze]
Still got the hungries?
[Some notes on this poem... This is written about Australian consumers.
As such the Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic are local to nobody, but people
wear the supporters gear anyway. We have our own sports leagues but people
support American sporting teams. All the fast food joints are American franchises.
Our screens are bombarded with mindless American sitcoms instead of local content.
Hell, even mindless sitcoms would be better if they were at least local :)]
~
This one should be read in a Pepe La Pew voice... 'ALLO BAYBEEE!!!
lurrrrrrrrrrve (a short-term hormonal imbalance common to the
carbon-based species homo sapiens found on the planet Earth)
I wish I was in lurrrrrrrrve...
to get warm fuzzies about silly little things
and jump whenever the phone rings.
I'd like to be in lurrrrrrrrrve...
to talk about my other half with faraway eyes
and buy little impulsive presents.
It's so nice to be in lurrrrrrrrrve...
asserting that you're heterosexual and attractive
and lovable and likeable and normal.
I remember good things about lurrrrrrrrrrrrve...
like that extra emotional depth in daily life
and happiness when each crisis is solved.
Life is so different in lurrrrrrrrve...
people always look at you in a different way
...especially the ones who are single.
You're never bored in lurrrrrrrrrve...
there's always something you're trying to figure out
and make the slightest sense of.
Oh, I do wish I was in lurrrrrrve...
to get all the warm fuzzy complicated emotional disasters
...but then, life has been so simple lately.
20-5-96
heretic
~
ú star in the great black...
tear in my eye...
ù star? tear...
. diamond spot in the night... ú
: tear on my cheek...
| raindrop on my face... ù
³ raindrop... .
³ it's raining... :
salty rain... |
ø ú mingled... ³
ù rain washing down... ³
. stars falling... ú
: falling rain... ø
| stars turned to rain...
³ stars on my face...
³ sliding...
tears from my eyes...
ø stars from the sky... ú
who can tell?
diamonds...
compressed coal droplets... ù
black...
black tears... .
black rain... :
black diamonds... |
black stars... ³
black sky... ³
there are no stars tonight.
ø
heretic
oOze.ph
11³4³96
~
too cool.
pretention makes the air thick tonight-
stifling,
hard to breath.
the bottle lies on my leg-
unfinished,
as it will remain.
they were only half invited-
necessity,
to save confrontation.
they brought their own agenda-
arrogent,
falling from grace.
i remember better times-
allies,
behind the act.
they came along in perfect harmony-
predictable,
all of them.
attempts at sociability rejected-
snubbed,
safe in their alliance.
all holding on to each other-
clinging,
scared to deviate.
rising like bile in my throat-
distaste,
my own hatred.
they wallow in their non-conformism-
insecure,
exactly the same way.
somehow they effect people-
illogical,
people react.
i hate them, but i don't-
reminiscent,
once they were my friends.
feeling too fucked up for drinking-
depressed,
i reject them.
i wish they would wake up-
centralise,
at least a little.
back to something i don't despise-
balance,
back to reality.
back to something they wouldn't have scorned-
ridiculed,
way back when.
back to something i don't hate-
ridicule,
here and now.
i hope each time i see them-
usually,
i miss them.
shifting tides of camaraderie-
erronious,
value gone.
and i wish i could at least drink-
solace,
none tonight.
heretic.oOze/ph
25-03-96
~
shiver
saxophone scream in howling wind
frenzied sea crashing on cliff face
churchyard in dilapidation
with cold gravestones of predecession
beasts of terror lurking
lurking, prowling, creeping...
creeping through the night
stealthy movements petrify
monsters all, we fear them
creatures of our fear
did our fear grow
or did our terror create them?
lock the door, check the windows
pull the covers up
hide from your mind
run blindly away from the id
trying to outpace your own fears
and destroy the beast with denial...
oh, the strange things we do!
always trying to console
quest to quell fear
searching... searching...
looking for a way
seeking the secret...
to stop fearing the shadows,
the shadows of our own creation.
26-04-96
heretic:oOze.ph
is there anybody out there?
does anyone actually READ this? :)
email me with any comments...
~
suspicious and sneaky
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that the government is lying to me all the time
...that macdonalds will never go out of business
...that unemployment is a growth industry
...that jjj will never get rid of helen razer completely
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that there is no real reason for human existence
...that analysing how we communicate won't make us better at it
...that sociology merely tells us *how* we're fucked up
...that Desmond Morris was being nice when he called us "animals"
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that i'll be bored at work for a long time yet
...that my tax return is going to get a lot smaller soon
...that i've lost count of how many different numbers i am
...that "they" know exactly where i am and where i'm going
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that i just want to believe there's something out there
...that we're alone on a chunk of cosmic dust
...that the only spirituality is what we create ourselves
...that Descartes was right, "cogito ergo sum", q.e.d.
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that a lot of people on this Earth are a waste of space
...that there's nothing that can be done about it
...that only humans can make things better for humans
...that it's not going to happen
i have a sneaking suspicion...
i have a sneaking suspicion...
i have a sneaking suspicion...
...that i'm right...
9-12-96
~
talk to me Andrew, i'm lost
yeah that feeling's here again
i'm feeling confused, isolated
things are moving too fast again
i don't feel in control
it's just that so much happens
i never feel like i caught it
the first time, or the last
i see hundreds of people every day
hundreds that i don't know
and i see them all as threats...
is that paranoid? or just reality
am i too scared or not scared enough?
will i ever stop asking questions?
will the questions ever stop?
i don't think so, i never think so
and Andrew Eldrich is assuring me:
"everything will be alright"
i'm feeling small again
insignificant and expendable
like an unretrieved dropped m&m
left to lie until stepped on
by one of the hundreds i don't know
why do i fear strangers?
should i see everyone as a threat?
i'm feeling exposed, the world's too big
but my world is too small
and i don't like a lot of people i know
even though i like some
maybe that's all i can expect
maybe i'm not aiming high enough
maybe i should just be a bastard
at least then i could be a rich bastard
but i don't think i could, not really
i don't think so, i never think so
and Andrew Eldrich keeps telling me:
"everything will turn out fine"
i'm feeling cynical about life again
am i too cynical? not enough?
am i just pulling shit into everything
when i just wish i didn't have to
that things didn't beg humiliation
that things were real enough
so i didn't have to wish for more
so that i didn't have to look for answers
that i didn't have to ask questions
that i didn't feel belittled by life
the way i always feel lost in space
how i always feel like i'm qeuing
lining up for something i don't know
what is everything for? anything?
anyone? no-one really knows
we just guess...
tell me again Andrew, tell me...
tell me it's going to be alright...
11-12-96
~
do not go unorganised into that good night
arranging my life into Olympic #400 Document Wallets
it seems so neat
packed into Marbig cardboard folder racks and
tucked under my desk
but I can't tuck the rest of myself under there
so the illusion shatters.
the rest of the room reveals itself to be messy
just like me
i can tidy up my life a little but not completely
it changes too much
and just when things seem to be fitting together
I run out of space.
revealing myself to a bright computer screen
glaring back at me
maybe i'm really addressing someone beyond
in real life
but maybe i'm really talking to the machine
and relaying it.
cleaning up this room of mine at home
cleaning it out
because I know that soon I leave it here
going to college
this room is never really going to be the same again
call it weird.
suddenly life is seeming far too close to my life
the buffer's gone
no more do I have a cushion of years to sleep on
I sleep uneasily
now I know i'm almost out of student time
collision course.
i'm heading straight for a big motherfucker meteor
and can't dodge it
it's got its sights set on me and my little room
wallets and all
it's full of banks and jobs and money and relationships
or hopefully so.
28/12/96
~
"if you have to ask,
you'll never know"
twilight of my subconscious breathing
a living thing sentient and brooding
behind my eyes, my slightly defunct eyes
sometimes is the only time I truly see
sometimes is in the dark, in the music, in a world far away
further than my eyes can see
to the distance only seen by my mind's eye
my mind doesn't need glasses
although sometimes I think... other peoples' minds
are beyond blind, beyond lost sight
to where there never was any sight in the first place
why are there people not obsessed with music?
why do people not love it?
meaning lurks, meaning skips, meaning teases my mind
it's there, it's hidden, it's creeping away, it's in the music
you can catch it if you listen, you can catch it if you're willing
god is a drumbeat, god is not dead
god is a drumbeat, inside my head
28-12-96
~
and i'm listening to the music -
it's rising out of the past and it tastes like Cinzano...
tastes like sitting in long grass
and on sheets spread over hard ground
and it smells like talking while drunk
to someone with a face i never saw and a voice i don't remember
and all i can hear is the music
and the crunch of gravel as i walked to the party
and back again -
back with a friend and we heard the chopping of an axe through wood
and we dearly hoped it was something else
avoiding the thought of someone who chops wood at 2am.
we walked on, as casually as possible but wasting no time.
smell of insect repellent, feel of insect bites and grass stalks
taste of Cinzano, taste of that night
taste of people who were good friends for a few weeks
then somehow i lost contact with them
and the whole memory is slightly askew
because i didn't quite fit them and they didn't fit me
and everyone was hesitant but we never found that barrier,
never even knew what it was...
i'd go back if i was still in touch with them
back to the parties in the dark around a fire on the ground
and that strange barrier - because it never really stopped anything
we just thought it might, and didn't cross it.
we would never have been great friends
but somehow i'd like to have a beer with Troy
and say hi to Tori who's name i always forgot...
but they wore plain white tops and i wore black
and i listen to industrial and they never did
and it all tastes like Cinzano, Cinzano and this music.
13-1-96
