caution

more fuggin pometree

..........................................

gravity

is a busstard

a leaden bird

plummeting

till it reaches

the peak of

my swirling

scalp

and sits

just waiting

waiting for me to fall for that one again,

to pick up a cup in greasy fingers,

to hold a frends new born badger between my dentures

while leaning out a third floor window hailing a cab,

waiting for a suicidal yoga teacher to

shakra his way to the top of a tower

and bounce his way to nirvana,

just waiting

a menace to all,

and sundry

menaced,

when shall we repeal

the ancient laws

and live free

from the oppression

of toothpaste

squeezed in rivers

to the floor,

i wanna mop

the ceiling free

to look down

as well as up

when someone

yells

duck.

.........................................................................

the ache

of a bow

string plucked

its resonance

the taught

hum of release,

the bass beat

prowling earthly

powder blue air,

and in the silence

of split air,

awaiting the splinter

of wood

or flesh,

the bow

sings to rest

the heart

given strength

to fire.

<<<<<.............>>>>>

MS gbhgt
if tonight means tonight

and tomorow means

some other time

that will hang on

perspicacuious gribbles and quoins

then its a sorta yes

but i get the feeling that

u r talking

about me

in a past sense
...........................god my head is hazy,

lunch began with french

@11.00,

followed by seven courses

with wines to match,

followedby........

....oh pusilanimous succubus

....so much alcohol,

so much alcohol

and ended,

as ....

... 1.00 nil oclock,

a poor effort

by sum standards,

but

then....................................

..............................the horrorthe horror..............................................................
j

and then

again

j--

--- kill all hippies

kill all hippies----
u know they are

your natural enemy
they will twirl fire

at u before u can blink
they will play u whale noises

just when u r trying to relax

and the tell u

that those strange

beeps and whistles

are songs of love,

(they're not

they are

calls to other whales

telling them

that they are

sick of krill and

would

kill

for a

fillet of fish)
they hug trees,

neglecting that trees

grow better

if u dont

hug em,

it constricts the flow of sap,
they think that the

high point of the world

was the sixties,

they didnt

even have dvd's

in the sixties,

how can that be

a high point if u cant

record it,

and play it back

when ever u want,

huh,

huh???
they ..... oh look its hippy season,

so just do it
love and

wotever

that is

over there

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

its not

like i know

what the night

is

anymore,

the blur of people

the smatter of conversation

filtered in a haze,

and my replies

are blankets

to stem

the fires of acquaintance,

in all i have relinquished

my hope of a blue sky

and the

razored mirror

bending to the sway of love

or affection,

so i drink

to afford

the grey air

a bleed of colour,

knowing how senseless

i become

and welcome

oblivion

as a dawn

as a requiem

to a dream.

Without a tie

to bind my senses

to the undulating ground

i revive memories

on my tongue,

twirling through the mists,

expurgate the life

seen and shaken

from its slumber,

a waterfall

cascading letters

and indignity

praise and

preapic tensions

madness and serenity

in no measure,

in no certified quantity

just the

fall

of water

on shattered

rocks.
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucrash,

boom,

POW!!!!

////////////////////////////////////////

so

miss lkjh

we live

in times

and thats

the best

i can say,

i confusion,

and i,

understand,

that i will

never create

anything as original

as a

single blade of grass,

that the world

shapes its orbit

and my pull

on this rope

is no more

than the shape

of this word

on the evening tide,

that i can breath in

and not exhale,

that i can give

but cannot recieve,

nor can i hope

to define

via thesuarus

or these

infantile gurglings

the reasons

of my need

to feel warmth

where none exists,

and why i am lost

in those eyes

which do not see me.

course it

may be

just

low blood sugar

and i need to eat,

but thats just

me

flippant in the

face of adversity

VOTEONE

Rat Keller

Party Leader's

Victory Speech

Ladies and gentlemen, bitches on heat, thank you for that rapturous applause and

may I also extend a warm thank you to our previous speaker, our new minister for finance, Rene Rivkin, I know, I know, rene, you prefer we call you Princess Rifkin, but..oh never mind, we won, thats all that counts.

Democracy needs to be taken from the hands of the people and given to someone who knows what fuck they are doing. The election results show VOTEONE has proven we know what the fuck we are doing, even if the population doesn't.

Today the 100% swing we needed to gain power, our critics claimed was beyond us, has mission accomplished scrawled in big blue texta all over it. We dont need an aircraft carrier or bus or even pants to hold up a bloody big meaningless sign, today we are each of us that meaningless sign writ large in warm, gooey, flesh and blood.

The media, in cahoots with our opponents, many of whom have slept with terrorists or have thought indecent thoughts about indecent things, scoffed at any suggestion of us even being on the ballots. But we, meaning me, have secured our place in history. And history is a big place, there are books written about it and much more.

I look around the room and see so many people I would like to thank, but just naming them would not do justice to this restraining order, so I shall just get security to throw them out.

ahhh my freinds, if only I were married and hadnt been afflicted with testefungus as a child I would thank my wife and children. As it is, I shall hold up this DVD of Blow Me Bigboy and use it as a stand in for a political whore trophy wife, and this poster of Lindsay Lohans beaver to simulate my non-existant progeny, and say thank you to them all, without you, and by them, meaning you, I do of course mean me, without whom, I would not be speaking to you tonight.

People we have a long road ahead of us, to some this road is paved in marshmellows and chocolate swirls, to them I say eat, to others the road is sealed with grit and determination, to them I say chew carefully. To all the rest of you, I say, you make up your own minds what the road is covered in, I place a premium upon your hard work and determination to hide from the reality of paving and bitumen, and wonder how you ever got drivers licenses. These are the essence of what VOTEONE stands for and what it hopes to achieve, reform, change,

bio-effification, rejuvination, wether we need it or wether it makes a shred of difference.

We shall take the government out of your lives and give it back to you wholly untouched, we shall meddle, we shall probe and ultimately, we shall prevail over the meddling we do.

Our first priority is of course at the head of our agenda, and we shall make good on our promise to implement it within hours of our taking office, we shall do this even before redecoration, before the giant inflatable portraits of myself have been inflated, before we have created a portfolio of agendas, that is how seriously we have taken our tasks, and how well we know our place in history.

To my opponents, worthy as many of you seem to feel about yourselves, I shall not gloat, I shall not press on with the smears my Minister for Smears, Mr Marvin Repitition, so gleefully molested. No to them I say, let us all embrace, for we are cut from the same broad cloth, we all seek the same thing, the advancement of an agenda which will move this country towards a better place, a kinder place, a place where their twisted immoral, lasivious, repugnant, desires are fully aired in public and given pride of place in gutters paved with gold or a Current Affair.

To Ray Martin I say nothing

To Lindsay Lohan I say Alan Jones.

To you I say me.

To all australians I say emigrate, you will never have it so good, really, so best quit while your ahead and sell your valuables to the highest bidder on ebay. I know thats what I shall do.

For now is the kingdom and paternity of heaven, forever and ever, amenities are out the back and I am just bursting to roll my wrists and get this party started right.

Thank you and goodnight.

introducing

your candidates

Ms Horness Plank

Minister for Hate

Do I need to remind any authentic australian that we are at war? That we are at war with those who stand against our war on war? Even worse, there has been a war against the war on those we are at war with, a joint campaign by some people inside the government and their allies in the media to undermine critical national security programs. Dont you just hate that.

Well, no, frankly I dont. If I contradict myself, very well then I shall and you had better get used to it.

The world is in flames, and flames are an integral part of fire, a vital national rescource, some would even say, essential to our way of life. Where as water is fires natural enemy, which is why VOTEONE will legislate to reduce the water content of rain and do as nature intended by not letting the terrorists win and returning australia and australians to a gentler times when we were all carbon based.

To accomplish these worthwhile goals we need to harness the raw power of hate. As my freind and mentor, Mr Rick "Man on Dog" Santorum repeats inccesantly

"If we simply react to the past, we will continue to remain one step behind those who wish to weaken our resolve and destroy our country, ending a horrific chapter where tens of thousands where murdered and tortured. We all live downstream."

But our opponents will tell you that some of us live upstream, a demonstrable falsehood and a mangling of what can be called factual. Hate is a fact, its everywhere, in our rivers, in our dams, in crippled beavers struggling to eat logs in their unfunded amphibious wheelchairs, in the air we breath and the food we eat with every hate filled fork of broadbeans and vermotti. And from where I sit, this tells me that we do indeed "all live downstream."

Downstream from hate, and yet our opponents ignore this fact. Fucking idiots is how I responded to my, bury their head in the sand, critics. It will be the title for my maiden speech in parliment, once elected, and is clearly on all our campaign literature. Fucking Idiots. I know strong language, shocking to some, a foolhardy waste of taxpayer funded election monies to others. Yet I stand by my decsion to print 10, 000,000 full colour twenty four page booklets with Fucking Idiots translated into every language on the face of the earth. VOTEONE is a party of inclusion and takes pride in our nations cultimulturalism. My own website states in bold tohama fonts of green and silver "fucking Idiaots", i must get that spellchecked. I hate spellcheckers.

did you know that God has stated that he hates shrimps. God! Can you get a more important elected offical than him? God! And where do shrimps live, for those of you who dont have degrees in biology, I shall tell you. Water! Why do you never see invitations from these racist, evil crusteacions to BBQ's? Because at BBQ's fire and hate work in harmony, shrimps hate harmony as much as God hates shrimps. They are terrirfied of it. Shrimps always have their satanic covens congregate at Boil a Q's. And what do they worship at these "Boil a Q's". Water.

Run away from that with your head in sand, my head immersed in sand opponents.

http://www.godhatesshrimp.com/

If its on the web it must be true, other wise why would God supply electricity to it.

Like my mentor Mr Rick ManOnanDog Santorum has stated,

"The longer we wait, the more people will be blown up, tortured, incarcerated, intimidated, and assassinated."

And you think you live up stream. I hate to interupt your delusions, but it just aint true, you fucking idiot.

Historians may write of this time in history that we were not the greatest generation- that we fell short on many fronts. But I hope they also write that like our ancestors we too fought for freedom, that we too confronted evil, that we too endured a great trial and won a victory for the future of mankind and you, you fucking idiots.

Thank you and remember

hate is not just an emotion

its a power sauce

brimming with possibilites.

I authorised and approved this

peice of crap before you

so you had better

vote 1 VOTEONE

dont make me come over and bitch slap your fat ho arse.

FUCKING IDIOTS.

meet the candidates

E.Z Sway

Minister for CultiMultural Affairs

Have you ever been innocently walking down the street and spotted someone who was clearly not you. I mean clearly, they may have acne or giant welts on thier heads or maybe been eating something which smelt vaguely strange. Its disturbing, its almost alarming and the opposition parties and the fat bloated beauracrats in washington, springs st and canberra simply ignore it. Ignore your calls, your letters, wont let you in their house's, call the police when they find you in their cars with a coat hanger.

VOTEONE says its time to put a stop to this nonsense, we take my concerns seriously, seriously enough to make me write this.

Some people, and Im not naming them outside parliment, say that it isnt a even a problem. Who are they trying to fool? Not me, nor should you be fooled by their pointless do nothing rehetoric. With a swing of only 100% needed for VOTEONE to gain power we can see a future that is bright for all australians, like me, and maybe you.

VOTEONE can finally put aside all the partisan bickering and get back to whats important. Important for families, for singles, for ugly women who cant find ugly men to date them, for firm breasted teenagers with nothing to do on a saturday nite to call me, for religious nuts with large collections of gay porn dvd's hidden from thier wives, for farmers, for cattle, for beavers without dams, for all australians. Do you see where this is leading. Yes, for an impassioned call for your to clear up this mess by,

voting 1 VOTEONE

Sure gay marriage is an issue, so is bio-diverisfying in bio-diesel made from natures own hydro electric emmitters, the humble beaver. Efficient, renewable and very chewable, beavers are our nations no 1 under-utilised rescource. Our opponents will bury thier heads in the sand and say that it is someone elses fault and what the hell can you do about it, eh cuz.

Well Im that someone else, and not the other person you may have read about in the personal's of Acquatic Singles magazine (eg wanted to sell, chest of drawers with handles that are still missing, but can find, for the right person, is that person you? well where the hell are the handles? call 0419 000 000 ask for mr pickles).

You may ask what this has to do Cultimultural Affiars? Ask yourself that question next time you are innocently walking down the street and are shocked to see a person or peoples, who is and or are, clearly not you, just doing any damn thing they damn well feel like, and then ask yourself "what can I do about this?" Yes, its unaustralian, in many countries without election's, it would even be illegal and even if they made it legal, which my opponents plan to, secretly, would it be right? Yes or no, theres one thing that we can all agree upon.

Im sick and tired of democracy, its just one damned thing after another.

Im E.Z. Sway, and I approved this message

for VOTEONE

the party that shares my concerns

and takes them seriously.

no, seriously.

Visit with the candidates
your new minister for education:

Kanker Meetphly
(illustration 1)

vote one values your dreams, its your actions that we distrust, like your views on education. Many of you are still stuck in that pre-9+/11 mindset of shipping your under age adult family members to those infamous prisons of depravation and sordid clostrophobia some in the media have dubbed "schools". Our opposition would have you believe that these little guantanemos of despair are for your own good, making their attendance compulsory, jailing those who exercise their rightful choice to remain as natured intended, blissfully ignornat.

VOTEONE will end this in our first term. I have seen the inside of these squalid hellholes, men and women, much older than your little ones, shout incessantly ridiculous authoritarian commands, forcing your darlings to "sit up straight" in an act that the UN describes as TORTURE (if accompanied by real torture such as poking with electric cattle prods) . Some of these rampant, out of control, methodist killing machines take drugs, others simply read out WORDS FROM BOOKS or call for discussion while thinking about taking drugs.

VOTEONE has nothing against drugs, but should your children be forced like common terrorists to be in the grip of these almost pedophilic rapists who are thinking about taking drugs while reading to them. We say NO and will abolish it.

In our first term in office.

You heard right, this is not an empty promise. "we will be greeted as liberators with chocolates and flowers", this is an empty promise, ours is a real promise, you can tell, there are no QUOTATION MARKS.

VOTEONE knows that you understand this and that it is all true. If you vote for any other party you are KILLING YOUR CHILDREN and as such should be locked in a very dark place to rot for all eternity. I as minister for education will personally throw away the key and confiscate all your property. You deserve it, bastards.

Remember on election day Vote 1 VOTEONE, if you truely love the fruit that sprang from your loins (or lions, whichever is most appropriate to spring from). As our vibrant, up and out, Party Leader, Rat Keller, will shout at you through a megaphone:

vote 1 VOTEONE
no, we mean it!

(can u spot the difference between these two images above)

answer below.

more fuggin pometree

..............................................

treacle

and a

dream

splash across hands,

rivers of equity

divide at equality

branching to form

an estuary

for our eyes

to meet and flood

these arch

andeluvian plains,

till i pour

cup by cup

these waters

into their

solitary confinement.

And treacle

is the spice

in the rivers

name

on your

lips.

..........................

the pills

kicked in

white light strobes

through smoke

and music

so hard

u swam

above

a

crystalline floor.

a white man

in a black suit

does not

move,

nods

of approval

in his pocket,

he sold

the children

of the night

a blowjob

on the dance

floor

her white

scooped tits

heaving with her

lips

till

dripping,

still

wanting

more

and more

and

oblivion came

wrapped

in

drum

n bass,

dawn leapt

from a cab

my eyes

pinpricks

of

molasses.

.............................

My love

lies on a

foreign shore

breaking upon blu skies

weaving through pure sun

and in the midst

of leaving a lover

to his self.

Is her heart

as cold as she claims,

an icicle

beating in a sea of blood,

a vacuum of compassion

willing to register

naught

save her vanity,

her pleasure,

her presence,

and me,

I am the pain

of her absence

and then

the pain of

her presence.

In turning a wheel

which way is

up?

.............................

london

Lives wander past,

drab grey skies

reflect in faces

gathering solace in movement

and food so stodgy,

so redolent

of ingredients

burnt into the shape

of stomaches,

while fresh remains a memory.

Bus drivers drive

over bums,

bounce over madmen

weaving a ballet

of disturbance,

their egos shattered

by lives of sorrow,

sprayed upon passers by.

In each alley way,

each doorway,

each warm crack

in the pavement

sleeps a heart

in need of heat,

wrapped in paper,

soiled bags and

seething for the pennies

thrown from

hands,

acquiescence to the system

which creates the cracks

through which they fall

and now in fall,

on the cusp of winters chilled

embrace,

these dying hearts

will begin to dive

like the yellowing leaves

crumbling in

frost covered death.

Me,

do I care

as I pass a pound

to an outstretched palm?

I no longer no how to care,

anymore than you.

..........................

shards of brittle metal

coat the undulating ground

glistening as they snap

in the black air

twisting to barren earth

the air reeks dry, stale, petulant

gripping the wretched soil

and breathing in the dust

this is no heart of mine

no space of my own

to contemplate this living

(as if this is alive)

to be as separate from

so vital an organ

to see its beating

in a hazy mist of distance

to see its cold exterior

seep within and burn

away the last vestiges

of love, hope, laughter

is to see the world

through a prism of nitrogen,

and knowing that this is me

is to relinquish

the last rites of humanity,

splintered,

and these

shards breaking beneath

my bare, bleeding feet

are my soul

searching for its

heart

...............

Amber

the break of dawn

rising through streaming clouds,

shaped as angels,

coiled as flowers

and breaking

on the breath

of warm air rising

between lovers kisses

Amber,

the resin of eternity,

the blood of ancient forests,

poured into beauty

and polished in her eyes

of pure gold Amber,

her smile a passage

to a thousand delights,

a thousand tales of love,

a thousand whispered stars

in a blue simmering sky,

a thousand kisses

held in ruby chariots

riding through heavens gate

Amber,

the sigh of the sun

resting on the ocean,

the murmur of a satin breeze

unfurling before

her sensuous body

and I,

I would ride each wave,

each jewelled sound,

each morsel of frictionless heat,

each lap of laughter,

each slender thread towards love

and bow my tongue

in the grace of her thighs

living on her touch,

her breath,

her gaze,

until finally

bequeathed that

precious stone

Amber

(long story, but written to Emily before I knew her name was emily, not Amber so I wuz forced to writ another pome [since lost to me, and em probably threw the sucker away for all I know]to Emily apologizing for thinking her name was Amber. Writted durring my "lesbian" phase, where I seemed to have fallen for many, many incredibly beautiful lesbians, so rendering my love completely invalid, but ever so worth it, I still contened mainly coz of the freinds I made [technically, didnt "make", but thats my dick talking])

..................................................

answer: only one of them has ever been convicted of a fashion crime.

in the victorian state election

vote One.

me.

then go back to sleep.

I will take care of it all

my policies:

pokies: I am all for women with erect nipples.

Water: I am against it, I will abolish it and return us to a carbon based lifeform. Ice cubes will be made from anti-freeze and all vodka will now be 100 proof. Dams will be renamed damns, blown up with the water allowed to run free, as nature, that pagan whore, intended (apart from those bits where beavers live, so I shall need to rethink my pro-beaver policy).

Rain: Im all for it, but we must reduce the water content, for the sake of our children, many of whom I have met and can confirm through polling, are strongly against getting wet on their way to school or the casino or where ever it is that they go during the day.

Beavers: I am for them being reintroduced into our eco system, whichever government was in charge during the Paleocene era had no fucking idea whatso ever, I will change this, even if I have to go back in time, I will do it.

Education: I, like many, am sick of it, but i will not, unlike our federal government, settle for a 100% pro-ignorance policy, there must be balance, my policy calls for both ignorance and smartingness. One cant have sunshine without a little rain, so I can honestly say, I have no idea what they do in terra del fuego where it hasn't rained in a thousand years, these terra del fuegans must be incredibly brainy, so I shall ask them to give me the answers in exchange for a few dark clouds.

Religion: I promise to crucify any savior who may be sent down from up on high, as nature intended. This policy will also apply to any mormons or jehovas witnesses who bother me when I am watching sport or pornography on televison.

Pornography: big time yes, we need more support for emerging industries in this country, and I will not be the first to keep this down, unless the script calls for it.

Gay Porn: ooooooooo, its iky, lets keep it in germany, evangelical church's and english boarding schools where it belongs.

Elections: I shall abolish elections in favour of a bi-annual armed uprising or "coup". Remember, the people united will never be something, something ....like that other country we all like to send folks to...

Voting: with no elections, your votes are wasted, as they usual are. So instead of handing out ballots, with our pro-coup policy each house hold will be given a choice between the new Glock 9mm Castrator or the worlds no.1 weapon of peoples empowerment, the AK47 (comes in burnished black or natural woodgrain to match your polished floorboards).

Foreigners: I shall legislate for them to be in other countries.

Foreigner: I dont care what love is, they are a shit band. But I wont legislate for or against, I am pro-choice.

Corruption: I am very easily corrupted, try me, you will not be suprised.

Womens Issues: they always have fucking issues, whats new with that. My only policy on this shall be to ban the compulsory take out of the garbage during major sporting events. I may also do some house work, sometime, just dont make it a big issue, ok. And yes, your arse DOES look huge in that. Sorry, but it had to be said.

Law and Order: I will legislate to ensure that it is more than a mediocre, but highly watchable, televsion show.

Lindsay Lohan: who the fuck is she, and what the fuck has she ever done? I dont know, but I promise to find out. If I am for it, I will let you know, if anti, will call you or txt u lol.

Flag Waving: I am agin it.

Flag Burning: Free matches for all school aged children. Each Austalian Flag purchased must be pre-impregnanted with kerosene and will come with an amusingly stenciled zippo. Classes on flag buring will be compulsory at all governement funded schools. Remember if your not with us, your over there somewhere, stay there.

Patriotism: only Collingwood supporters are true patriots. This will be written into the constitution, if we have one. I shall ask Lindsay Lohan about this when I find out what she is. Does she drive a truck? If not Why not! If yes, next question!

Public Transport: I agree, whoole heartedly, except for buses, which are for poor people and I am against them until they agree to pay me more.

Fiscal Resposnibilty: I will learn how to spell it, good lord willin and the creek dont rise.

Drugs Policy: I shall give them to Lindsay Lohan first, just to see if they are a/poisonous and b/ good.

Lindsay Lohan part two (amended section): I promise to mate her with a beaver, hence creating the LindBLoLeaver, another first for australia, leaders in innovation.

Fossil Fules: People we are burning Trex's, stegasorusess's and our great, great grandparents in our automobiles. Are you people fucking crazy?! Its fucking nuts, lets back to steam, providing I dont outlaw water, then I shall think of something better.

With these (and maybe some other things that I am too embarressed to admit publicly) policies, I shall lead this state into the next century and beyond. Creating a frame work of sustainable sustanability which can only be good or even better.

with this platform, I thee wed. Now obey.

we met

eyes

are
fingers
carressing

sometimes

in the darkened corners
of my octagonal heart
a light swims
in aqua
strokes

to an island
of blue

where the curl
of your hair
playing over
your eyes
draws

a sculpture
in stone

in vivid flesh
in my dreams
in the flash of my memory

as i bath
and bask

but i have
nothing
save
the
caress
of your eyes
tingling
in my
fingers

living
more in hope
than

stone

to see
thru
one day

2
u
.......................................................................

how much

do i loath

pometry

these guttural

walnuts of

solidified repression

these acts

of restless stupidity

masquerading as

alphabetic debris

these torpid

requiems of

blunted elongation

these staccato

utterings of

emotion

they volley across paper,

replete

with cannonade

and crimson

cavalry

yet sink

below the french

at Agincourt

in failing

to turn

a world of sand,

crumbling sheaths

of drifted continents,

to bedrock

until

tested

.................................................

je ne parle pas

i do not understand

the world around

my own doubts

and reclamation

the truimp of will

over a monarchs oilwell

the straps of velcro

in a suicide vest

the symbolism of

ingested self

the flames of words

scudding over a penninsula

the calls to jhaid

in a godless universe

women and their beauty

wrapped in my autism

me concerned for a planet

i seek not to shape

the lost and found

of each moment passed

the age to slumber

and dream of cylinders

the texture of a dove

rolled beneath a bulldozer

and so contracted thus

perchance

these words,

this missive,

sleep

without dreams

..............................................

whenever
im selected
as part
of that
conglomerate,
beautiful
peeple
inc,
BPI,
2 u
in the fold
of creamy
capitalism
and wanton
flagrant
abuses
at the atm
of life

i choke and gag
on the mirror
knowing how little
seven layers
of skin
can hide
this bpi ex employee
from wasting his
super,
elongating his
longservice
and recycling
his overtime
into pigeons
and canvas

...............................................................

galllery invite Part threehundred and 72

fuk dance lets art

B. vulgaris

blok
rokn
beets

the history of corruption in the world as told in vegetables and mime

Sun Tzu said in 352bc "If your enemy drinks weak skinny milk lattes, laugh at their hypocrisy, if they demand more froth, create discord by adding chocolate sprinkles, if they desire decaf macchiattos, intiate thier downfall thru sleep deprevation in subterfuge, use kenyan moccha blend."

The humble sugar beet has create chaos (the greek word for gas, the greeks never were much good at spelling, and /or grammars) by being a poor subsitute for coffee, this exhibition explorers the darker side of food substitutes and politics.

Tangled and pointless as it may seem western culture has always been subverted and corrupted by the inclusion of false labeling on food products, the term "100%" has always meant 78.5% in real terms, or in the case of a meat pie, 12.5% animal product, here in one stunning visual array which will shock and or you, the very nature of the way you live is upended and given a breath freshener. As both Locke and Hulme said in unision in 1753, "Do you have soy milk? If so, can their truly be a god."

campbell arcade
cbd
6-8
followed by
misty
8-whenever
friday 11th april

proudly sponsored by

the New Improved Iraqi Regime
(now with 25% less oppression)

...............................................................

invites part 79+654.0001

the new committee for the verification of non-aligned verification proceedures
in association with
the scopes trial songbook

the new black

whitewash

the art of independent committees.

6-8 tonight
tuesday 17th feb
smyrnios gallery
32-34 st edmonds road
prahran

take a definition so tight that it excludes every reason for holding the enquiry...

take any number of craven "emminent" peeples nearing immenent forced reitirement, promise them a window seat next to a lump sum package for services rendered ...and a 2nd AOM or third or....

ensure the word definition is prominently defined over the first 200 pages of the report....

scratch out the words "national security" and conjoining sentences and vowels......

include all the demonstrably false allegations as equal to or greater than those demonstrably true.....

provide lunch for as many QC's as can resonably contained within the budget.....

leak favourable findings, place those not so in appendixes of subsection three page 2,352 in blue ink on blue paper in 2 point cursive type...scratch out consonants

no matter what the findings, say the exact opposite or at least keep stating the orginal line, claiming the findings fully support and vindicate all taken actions....

deny that taken actions have in deed taken place, or place actions within context of geothermal extension of the denial......

deny, deny, deny......

promise a further enquiry to define the terms of previous enquiry, then claim they stepped outside the boundaires of the defintion.....

use the words obmutescence and obversion in the same sentence.....

go back to reading the sports section.
..............................................................

richo
suks dogs dicks,
its crazy
but its true,
rohdesian ridgebacks
are his favs
to blow the
whole night through,
he'll settle for a poodle,
or a blue or manky cross,
but nothing gets
his tongue a wagging
than a pinky from an
african, i know its gross.
he does it before training,
at half time, and at home,
does it in secluded pet shops
and when ever he feels
that he's alone,
pats em once on the head,
then goes straight
for the dogs bone,
he's a sik little puppy,
but who am i to intone,
a man needs lubrication
to spit his dummy
without a coach
or chaperone.

................................

would i make up
the truth,
pin reality with
the tale of an imaginary donkey,
not i,
so i will spill my heart and tell you,
tru,
what the world knows,
and so few dont,
Mathew lloyd is a fukwit,
a flouncing haircut,
a bottle of shampoo
marked
"it smells like crap
and crap is you"
how apt for this
wunderkind of wunderbar
hairstylists,
unable to play in weather
which may affect
his conditioner,
unless he gets his goals
as he does every other week
by that sweet little deed he
does with the men in white,
bending and stretching
while they work out how many
frees to give their little bitch,

i would not lie,
not make this shit up,
for tis all true,
mathew lloyd is a fukwit,
now you know it 2.

...............................................

never surrender
when your dreams
are so close
to the surface of your brain
others will be inspired
by the throbbing

Jesus tussles with the sea gorilla of galilee

Few stories in the New Testament illustrate more profoundly the true spirit of Christmas than the tale of Jesus wrestling with Bolkar, Gorilla God of the Sea, caught in Pauls net when he did a spot of fishing off the jetty.

“Look ye, fisher of men, it's a bloody gorilla” say’th Jesus

“I will never use banana’s for bait again” reply’th Paul, measuring the gorilla for size requirements when the Bolkar attacked

“I am Bolkar, Gorilla God of the sea” proclaimed the angry simian, “Bow down before my might, and worship no other.”

Jesus smote the angry gorilla for many hours, rending the shoreline of Galilee with soggy fur. A crowd of excited on lookers stared at the spectacle of the Son of God, walloping on the angry god of the sea. Bets were taken and wagers placed, with reasonable odds being offered on Bolkar even when the wiley Jesus placed him in the always deadly sleeper hold, and body slammed him into the local kiosk, next to the 24 hour Frankinsense Stall.

At last, Jesus prevailed and anointed the supine body of the near dead monkey with ungent oils and herbs to get rid of the fishy smell from his (Bolkars) living under the sea for so many years.

“Truly, he is the son of somebody” the weeping crowd exclaimed, rushing to buy limited edition postcards of the incident and have them autographed by the triumphant Jesus, posturing on the beach in a thong.

Luke’s epistle ends abruptly in a great deal of laughter and rejoicing, leaving all to wonder who cleaned up the mess.

Scholars in biblical studies have suggested that this parable is a homily on the joys of giving, for surely if Jesus had not gone on so much about fishing and handing out gear and tackle on his birthday, then would Paul have been out there on that fine morning? Probably, but it is only a guess on the part of church hierarchy.

“Give a man a fish, and he will ask you to fillet it, teach a man to fish, and he will ask directions to the beach.”

This then surely is the meaning of Christmas, giving, sharing and spanking the monkey while fishing.

the Italian job
an excerpt from the upcoming exhibition of grand masters of the lower rennaysonce

Giottitti Gulpanarmadillo (1542-1756)

"Plague, rats, disease, death, lice and waterslides" is how the 16th century tourist bureau describes Giottitti Gulpanarmadillo's home town of Verinniccia, nestled as it does between the rolling yellow hills of the Apia Distended and the steaming bogs of the Gristly Marsh. By all accounts his parents, lower middle class peasants whose dreams of the idleness of nobility and a love of tropical fruit propelled Giottitti into a career as an artist for the court of Prince Slatt Van Fiat.

"The Prince demands obsequious my darling Hilda, a high degree of toadying and when roused to passion a good strong cup of steaming pineapple juice. He bade us make artworks from morn till the next morn while his guests did frolic and pleasure themselves in his aromatic gardens of pomegranates and cicada trees. How many debaucheries against the very nature of god and the very fermerments I did witness and can attest as our lord and saviour as my witness that ...my precious Hilda, I cannot go on, my foot is caught in the soot cauldron again, but I have sent sketches of the very things I bespoken of and a list, sortd alphabetically of the affronts to the virgin Mary. Having a lovely time, weather is great."

Writes Gulpanarmadillo in a postcard to a woman many assumed to be his wife, although details of the great artists life are at best sketchy, based as they are upon his seven volume autobiography and a series of pornographic postcards he posted in his first eight years under the tutelage of the great master painter and manicurist Franko Szondy (1503-1682?).

Giottitti Gulpanarmadillo's greatest works, The Blessed Virgin Embraces the Holy Pineapple (fig. 1) and his masterwork, Our Lord Tempted by The Angry Phoenician in Semaphore (fig 2), are monumental works of piety and tropical fruit. His flowing brush strokes pre-empt the rise of the neo-classical post rapheletic in and out of the high reniaisconce, while his subject matter touches upon the similar themes as Heronimouse Bosch, the decay and imminent death of salvation unless saved by the piety of the masses, while his use of tropical fruit as a motif predates Smorgies all you can eat platters by some 500 years.

The blessed virgin (fig 1) is abandoned in rapture, her pineapple a metaphor for life itself and the scattering of green leaves an obvious incantation of the then Pope Pious the Not II's famed speech on wether Jesus would have used salad dressing or wether he would have just used a little vinegar and oil, or maybe some of the mhyrr he had by the bucket load. The answer an eternal conundrum for those in the church, and one not answered by Giottitti, merely hinted at as he searched for the divine within the frozen form of wilted lettuce he so despised.

"Agnes, what debauchers, what philanderers, what arch deacons of satans boils made a flower which when left for five minutes while I privy, melts to the elemental essence of primordial water. Wether fairly bad, rained a lot yesterday and I stubbed my toe on Tintoretto. Hope all is well with the family."

He writes in 1648, darker days were still ahead for the great painter, but greater days were ahead for painting itself.

Giottitti presented his master work, Our Lord Tempted by The Angry Phoenician in Semaphore (fig 2) to the Pope at the Feast of St Sibeilius in Rome. For many minutes the Pontiff sat stunned, drool fell from his chin and a loud expelling of gas was heard. Here was truly a masterwork, all agreed, vehemently disagreed, fighting ensued and a roasted hog thrown in Giottitti's direction. Controversy has never been a great selling point, the allegorical illusions were there for all to see. The Phoenician captain conversing in semaphore was interpreted to mean the pope had very little idea about what was going on even when a blinding light permeated his eyeballs, harking back as it does to the old testament story of Jonah and the giant peach, crudely alive and brimming with vehement hatred of the illusions and delusory nature of earthly power. The virgin Mary, seen here naked and wantonly removing her draws became the template for many years to come in the painterly world. Here was not a god, but a woman, in flesh and blood, just dying to get it on with any well hung deity. Shocking, yet in the lower portions of the high renaisonce, much debate ensued over what position the lord used to impregnate the blessed virgin and wether she perhaps led him on a bit.

The image of Jesus, supine and prowling the canvas like a motorised grizzly bear, commands respect and is an obvious authority figure worthy of two pineapples, a kings ransom in those days. One hand rests on or near his heart, strongly suggesting heartburn or maybe a peptic ulcer from the over consumption of such rich fruits. If the kingdom of heaven were truly paradise, pineapples and maybe guavas or mangos would be in such abundance that one could afford to eat them like the Italian staple, vermotti. Yet Giottitti tempers this joyful embrace of the lords bounty and wisdom with the flying turnip of Satan, aimed provocatively at Christ heart, like an antacid from the serpent of hell.

This was to herald in the dark period of Giottitti's life, when all traces of the tropical fruits disappear and are replaced with turnips, potatoes and small grilled peppers. Each more realistic, each more morbidly brushed into the canvas, until in his final years, he could barely even get the paint onto the canvas such were his sufferings. But then, most have seen this as a reaction to the suffering of the ordinary peasants, whilst the princes of the church gorged themselves on papaia and mangosteens with a strawberry coulis. For many Giottitti broke the mold and invented cubic photorealism, for others he didn't even get close.

"Beryl, I see despair, decay stalking the streets. Plague has struck Padua (his then residence), the dying are tossed into my backyard, and children scour the gutters in a desperate search for any morsel, their wafer thin bones are barely held within their wafer thin skins. Meanwhile, prince M, greest his guests with sacks of golden pineapples and mockels the lord with fatted hogs heads roasted in quince jelly and served on a bed of most lascivious juices. Looks like the rain will clear by Friday, Matteo says to say hello, he went to a bordello on Tuesday, but came away unsatisfied, love to all at the local tavern. Can you send a shovel."

Today we see in all its restored glory, these two works for the first time in many years, we hope you enjoy the Italian job exhibition of grand masters of the lower rennaysonce

...........................................................
Piss on the heathens

voting to eradicate

mcdonald douglas's

Debts

fuk over the pagans

raping choirboys

in a

sanctuary of wolves

kill the ottoman empires

dreams of union

like an armenian

in dusty chains

three feet down

and rising

spit on,

walk over,

dig a thousand mile trench

and bury

head first in

slime, lime and concrete,

richard fuking ashcroft

donald fuking rumsfeld

condaleeeeezzzz fuking rice

and each and every

stinking, sleeze ridden

oil guzzling skank

filled Miscreant

driviling rabid foaming

mouth peice of that born again

alcoholic

murderous

cunt

from the last lone star

to be extinguished

by the mite

of his non existant god

(and use cheney

as the fuking shovel

to break the

chisle hard concrete

for the pit)

theres only ten rules

the fuker has to follow,

only ten

and he cant seem

to even live up to one,

without justifying

sodomizing nuns

on their day of confirmation

The sniper of god stalks

the streets but

the fuker is

so chicken shit

he cant target a

real threat to the world,

so he aint god

just another peice of shit

skankin his way

to a criminoligists

casebook of fame,

but if he did place

one careful crosshair

over prefabricated

nylon suited evils eyelids

and squeezed

a new head would sprout

within seconds

and i would laugh

my

hangover

away.

........................................

y

is

monday

so unkind?
why doz

it

hurt

and my body

reeeks

of 80 years

of arthritis

twisting

bone on bone
its

monday

and it hurtz

............................................

9/11

and

THE DAY AFTER

(the year after)

martyrs bones r still plucked

from the skyline

and matyrs bodies

still litter the orchards

of isreal

and isreal

still matyrs the occupied

two for one

and western eyes

swim across

a denuded landscape

planting flowers on graves

and sweeping reasons,

as answers beneath

and islam eyes

their innocent

shams of misapproriated

desert text

......................................................................

...................................................................

despite the headline

this is an uplifting tale

of trees and pretty flowers

and sweet things

being hit by a truck

its not paranoia,

i no wot that is,

or isnt,

(if you are lying),

(and wood i know)

(you are, rarnt u)

(i can tell)

(your lips r moving)

or wasnt till you became entangled

one day at a time,

one foot forward,

one inch towards the metric system,

the century flickers

already like the afterglow of 1897,

and if reperations are

demanded from a man

in a spiky helmet give him

a quick one in the cobblers

wonder if a physician should,

would and or could heal himself,

does a proctologist

need a room of mirrors

wot a beautiful if hazy monday

the birds are twitttering

the swirl of peak hour has passed with

litle to disturb my hours of rest

and all that awaits mi fingers

is the tapp of keyboard to colour

to rest the sequence of risidue

and spray the colour of the world

into a biotech wonderment

green is the colour

red is the number

silver is solace

and rosemary remberance

of al;l that has passed

betwixt our last meeting

and the one to follow,

give up the goss

and dont be afraid

to get skanky.

luv and woolchips

j

treacle and a dream

splash across hands,

rivers of equity

divide at equality

branching to form

an estuary

for our eyes to meet

and flood these arch

andeluvian plains,

till i pour

cup by cup

these waters

into their

solitary

confinement.

And treacle

is the spice

in the rivers

name on your lips.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

As for the evening

when the willow of tomorrow

bekons through a silver portal

and lives parade, fashioned

to square with the unallayed

fears and grotesque

malladies of everyday detritus,

and paralle universes hum

detuned, detoxicated,

flipped incrimson saturated

yellow conundrums

and a sprong of the dial

reveals the secrets

'of wast'rells lives

i wonder, as i do,

wots on tv

me or u

my place or

yours

either way

vodka

rules.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

with mi hed

bangin

like a corrective services

minister

at a prison riot,

or phil ruddock

locked in a

cell with

a twelve year old

refugee,

i await the sooth

the toasted cheese

bliss of numbness

to engulf these flames

and extinguish

this marcarbe dance

of hellish flotsam

mascarading as vision

sight and sound.

Too many splinters

of black tarred guiness,

one two many drops

of crimson falling

from grapes of wrath,

just a fractional

overdrawing of the nectar

of the potato,

and topped so gently

with a liberal dosage

of the fragrant

jaimakan parsley,

has led me to this

loaded dog of thought,

I'd pray for deliverance,

but a panadol

would suffice.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

georgina

her body a wisp of

heaven filled to overflow,

her lips the traffic

of intersecting rapture,

and then her smile

alight in the evening air

as we shared those

moments and let our

eyes reflect in each

others whims,

how long have we

known each other

without knowing the

others name,

knowing the others

beam of light

or silence or spring,

and n ow we do,

what road do we

traverse to reach

our place of nature.

yo mmmmmaaaaammmmmaaa sita

well my drink laST nite was v/good, spent most of the evening with the beautiful G, stepped outside shared a spliff and smiled as lot at each other. I mite have a small chance with this beautiful creature, as while I no she does enjoy the company of women (and u no how i mean), she also is not adverse to the company of my kind (u no wot i mean again), and as most of the women i have gone out with have bin of a similar ilk, this is good. Oh well the fullness of time shall resolve these differences for me. I do l;ove the company of beautiful women, for a thousand and seven different reasons, staring at thier tits is only about half of those. Ahhhhhhh, bliss.

luv and tree huggin

j

00000000000000000000000000000

no 1

And what of me,

this crust of flesh

wrapped in tissues of dopubt,

entwined inside this cavernous

bubble of xistence,

I sleep and dream

of wishful fulfilment,

without the courage

to turn these visions

to pillars underpinning

my world,

I doubt my sorrow and sensitivity,

my creation and demise,

my hand will ever hold anothers,

my hart will live to breath again,

I doubt I'll know a new day,

hold a child as mine,

become as one with the universe,

or know the reasons for my pain.

A journey begins with the first thought

of a road, obscured by clouds

and ruts worn smooth on feet

to blinded by that automatic voice

which proclaims that all roads

have been travelled

and none, in time,

will leave their mark,

I doubt that rivers flow,

that time ebbs,

that sunshine rides on murmering breezes,

that reflections disapate,

that the beauty of a smile is destined for me,

I doubt the air inside,

the water glistening in the shower,

the temper of steel,

the resilience of blood,

the hand

which

rocks my

cradle.

No2

see att> this is a protuberance out the side of this email.

cornflakes n cream

jefffffffffffffff

000000000000000000000000000000000000000

its so friggin early

the sun has not done its pushup

friggin well yet

and i sure as hell wish it wqould

the fat ol sun in the sky

is failing, its lazy assed

sweep, and it dont need to

do friggin well much

just hang and friggin well

gloat

you bastard with a limp

you crunt of a hydrogen bitch

how did we survive the last iceage

when i can barely conceal my contempt

beneath these bohemoths of goosebumps

and then

and then

and friggin well then

at dawn

i gotta work

clucking bells

its too early

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

hey, how ya doin

sorry ya wurkin too

just another pome

add it to the number

but this ones almost through

its difficult preachin

when preachins posturing

and passed at the post

when nothins conjuring

more n' words

n' words r'n't wise

jus stuttering

verbalized emotions n' grumblins

spent n' spilt

till this lines over

n' broken lines r lightbulbs

shinin' on wurk,

so humbling

so hey how ya doin......

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

and if the methodbe,it is to conceptualize,billings as the answerop citto overcrowded uteruses,and cities of the wombfilledded,and catholicis agiltfree base condomreplete with a teardropdroppedfrom a pinto puncture procreationscarnal abyssand let me into heaven, babycoz itsbetta yaw life be concieved by a miss,than it bemisconcieved.i prith thee thanxand gudknight