Thursday, 30 July 2009

Harold Norse 1916-2009 RIP

Harold Norse 1916-2009 RIP
Originally uploaded by pitoucat
I AM NOT A MAN I am not a man.I cant earn a living,buy new things for my family.I have acne and a small peter. I am not a man. I dont like football,boxing and cars.I like to express my feelings.I even like to put my arm around friends shoulder. I am not a man. I wont play the role assigned to me- the role created by Madison Avenue,Playboy,Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell. Television does not dictate my behaviour. I am not a man. Once when i shot a squirrel I swore that I would never kill again.I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me sick .I like flowers. I am not a man. I went to prison for resisting the draft. I do not fight when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike violence. I am not a man. I have never raped a woman . I dont hate blacks. I dont get emotional when the flag is waved. I dont think I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it. I am not a man. I have never had the clap. I am not a man Playboy is not my favourite magazine. I am not a man. I cry when i am unhappy. I am not a man. I do not fell superior to women. I am not a man. I dont wear a jockstrap. I am not a man. I write poetry. I am not a man. I meditate on Peace and Love. I am not a man. I dont want to destroy you. http:/ More information about the poet Harold Norse and this poem

Tuesday, 28 July 2009


Originally uploaded by ross mcross.
His blankness beyond human the hollowness of his thoughts like junkies needles in vein, his soul infected. Are their monsters on your street , take a whak at them , offer them no christian love , offer them no hadith , offer them only stones and bricks. We are living in dangerous times, I am afraid their freedom will go to far, get rid of their diseased houses but love thy neighbour

Often Unobserved

Often unobserved, I smell my own breath.
Still searching for something forgotten,
I bang the door behind me, shouting out.
Sometimes I think 6 pints of lager
Are like signposts pointing backwards,
But I don't care they keep me ambushed..
I look up, theres no smell in the colour blue
As the wind blows through the spaces,
Into the rich source of my longings
Into the worlds between worlds
Into the loneliest place I know.
Under these words are the hidden words
I cant for now  say to you,
Any gaps you can find fill with sighs.
As Leafs shadow the waters shifting,
like an instrument endlessly strummed
Splashing and bubbling under the surface

Sunday, 19 July 2009

Captain Confusion and the Chaos theory

Here I stand like an old woman to weak to sleep. I sit in the elephant hour, alone with a herd of bananas. And if i could, I would sleep with them, or at least be their nightmare, released in a stampede of surrender

Patti Smith- TRUE MUSIC

Patti Smith
Originally uploaded by Gnabra

"Time is expressed in the heart of an instrument. Something that stops in the heart of a man. Time is the wall and the space around. Time is the tree a life that resounds. Time to adore and time to go. To give to the fisherman the slippers of Rome, the whirling embrace the arms of the fold to gather together the swirl of the leaves turning and falling returning as thee to the clay of creation though your children will hold the wave of your hand the smile of your soul." - Patti Smith

I was fortunate to catch this talent deliver incendiary performance at Roundhouse a couple of years ago her covers album period.Remember her playing white rabbit guessed then that theres many forms of magic .First thought best thought I remember their was something electric in the air that night. In the midst of her war dance George Bush was leading the race into an unmanageable illegal war. And she raged ,for us and our children too

Saturday, 18 July 2009


Originally uploaded by KAPRELESS
sometimes the morning arrives with uncertainty, yesterdays enthusiasms just dont arrive. Often i am hungry, i miss the pick and mix and shopping in woolworths.wish the world good about randomness ,chaos and outsider art. Sometimes in that order.The postman comes calling,with large paper bag.I choose when i will open it. All i Know its a surprise........

Monday, 13 July 2009

O-JAZZ-O- Bob Kaufman (13/7/ 46 - 25/ 7/15)

Where the string
some point,
Was umbilical jazz,
Or perhaps,
In memory,
A long lost bloody cross,
Buried in some steel cavalry.
In what time
For whom do we bleed,
Lost notes, from some jazzman's
Broken needle.
Musical tears from lost
Broken drumsticks, why?
Pitter patter, boom dropping
Bombs in the middle
Of my emotions
My father's sound
My mother's sound,
Is love,
Is life.

Sunday, 12 July 2009

Thursday, 9 July 2009

GOD - Waldo Williams

he does not stand by,
forming a finished purpose.
From our infirmity.
He comes to us,and offers aid.
His unseen hand a mystery.
 Not to be fathomed.


Tell us about your past? How does poetry effect your day?
 Do you water the garden in lunar cycles? Do you think valium o.k ?
Are you silent distant,faraway or near? Is this the saddest moment or are you absolutely clear?
Survivor or user,hedonist or comfort blanket? Naked by the waters edge or fully clothed by burning sandpit
What did Icarus see, when coming down? Can you turn wine into water or plants into medicine ?
 Is ambition lacking purpose,or is it all a lie? The past or the future, tomorrow or today?
Whole space of territories,or a world without borders? Friendship before profit ,love before greed?
Can you see ideas transforming, or do you stay asleep and dream? Mountains and rivers without end?
 Plant life or pond life? Is the end better or worse? A fantastic feast or curse?
Cant get no satisfaction or are you really free? Fact or fiction ,fantasy or reality?
A distant singing a far crying? A lunatic of loving,or a gentle sighing?

Or maybe, just maybe, no ending!