29 July 2013
It was the year I came out
and had a fling with a gay Maori
the year a friend nearly died of Guillain barre syndrome
the year I met a man who had
a decidedly unsavoury relationship with his dog
the year I saw waterfalls streaming down the sides of Uluru
the year I had a fight with a wild kangaroo
over a $1 box of out of date Pokemon cereal
the year two of my best friends had their lesbian wedding
the year I tried special K (nudge nudge wink wink)
provided by a Welsh drug dealer called Elfed
the year I travelled around with friends in a van
(named bubbles after a local drag queen at the Imperial Hotel
the starting point of Pricilla queen of the desert)
It was all madness but pure gold
Everyone should keep a journal
I’d like to turn it into a book
but no one would believe me
Taken from the comments section of a Guardian article on keeping a journal, 18th July 2013. Some punctuation omitted. Submitted by Grace Andreacchi.
22 July 2013
Tom once told me
a poem had to capture
in the first four lines.
Or perhaps it wasn’t four.
Perhaps it was within
the first twenty words.
Or perhaps I can’t remember
precisely what he said
and am wilfully recreating
But I am sure he spoke
about our shared expectation
that poetry (Poetry),
that finest form of writing,
should do something
dynamic early on.
Taken from a blog post on the Happenstance Press website, 14th July 2013. Submitted by Angi Holden.
17 July 2013
Baby chicks hatch out of eggs
Smoke goes up a chimney
Chess is a kind of game
Spilt ink makes a splotch
Broken bones can be set in a splint
Rain splashes into puddles
The lamb has a woolly coat
The carving knife is long and sharp
A wren is a small brown bird
Sentences out of my homework book from when I was six. We had to put words into sentences three at a time; the resulting stanzas were haiku like and a little sinister. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.
15 July 2013
His frame is new,
his breast is new,
his penis is new,
his head is of tin,
his teeth are those of a lion,
his eyes are (those) of an eagle,
and he sees like an eagle.
A benediction composed for Hattusli II, King of the Hittites, taken from Stalin's Moustache. Submitted by Marika.
12 July 2013
Since I have already said
all I need to say
to all my loved ones,
I'm not going to say anything to y'all at this time ...
So this is my statement.
To all of the racist white folks in America
that hate black folks
and to all of the black folks in America
that hate themselves:
the infamous words
of my famous legendary brother, Matt Turner:
"Y'all kiss my black ass."
Let's do it.
Ah, just ah sorry ya'll.
I think I’ve tried everything I could
to get in touch with ya'll
to express how sorry I am.
I never was right after that incident happened ...
I was raised by the California Youth Authority,
I can't really pinpoint where it started,
but really believe that's just the bottom line,
what happened to me was in California.
I was in their reformatory schools and penitentiary,
but ah they create monsters in there.
That's it, I have nothing else to say.
Thanks for coming, Jack.
I am so sorry
for what y'all had to go through ...
if I was y'all, I would have killed me.
I am really so sorry about it,
I really am.
I got to go sister, I love you.
Y'all take care and God bless you.
Gracie was beautiful
and Tiffany was beautiful.
You had some lovely girls and I am sorry.
I don't know what to say.
All right, Warden, let's do it.
You all brought me here to be executed,
not to make a speech.
From Last words of prisoners on death row, The Guardian, 2 July 2013. Submitted by Ailsa Holland.
08 July 2013
‘beautiful’ changing to ‘good’ after thirty
to be kept busy
capacity for sex
escaping from men
locking up; but who will guard the guardians?
Taken from the subheadings under "women" in the index of Michael Montaigne's The Essays: A Selection (Penguin: 1994), p445. Submitted by Jenny Williams.
03 July 2013
The reason I hesitate to give you the full maximum
is that although there is a charge at Fergus Falls against you,
I must consider you are innocent of that until you are
proven guilty, and these crimes that you have committed,
outside of this juvenile crime, you haven’t used aggressive
you haven’t used a gun,
you haven’t hit a man over the head.
Also, I am going to consider that you have plead guilty
and have saved the State some money in trying you
although the County Attorney is of the opinion that he would
just as soon try you and all the rest of them.
He doesn’t think you have a chance in the world
of ever getting out of it.
I am going to take into consideration the fact that
I can’t say that you have committed an aggressive crime;
if you had, I would give you the very limit I possibly could,
because I don’t think the court should monkey around
with a man that hits anyone over the head.
Court Report, Hennepin County, Minnesota, Fourth Judicial District Court, October 23, 1958. Pages 23 & 24. Obtained through the Minnesota Historical Society Library. Submitted by Kelly Nelson.
01 July 2013
You know the sort.
He's baking organic vegetable snacks
while she's teaching the two-year-old
how to count in Catalan.
They organised the right school
moments after conception.
They know everything,
you know nothing.
Their baby has never cried,
never thrown up on the hire car,
it never even really seemed to be a baby at all,
more like a middle-aged Archers' fan
hidden in a macrame shawl.
A glass of white wine the size of Greenland
has been poured, it's late in the evening,
they're coming across the room to share
some of their worldly wisdom,
to pass on the secrets of their special way.
They want to give you the benefit of their expertise.
You don't want to do it like that…
And they just can't resist giving you
that little special bit of advice
picked up from an old French villager.
Just learn how to say non.
Taken from a BBC article, 10 types of irritating advice for parents, 28 June 2013. Submitted by Angi Holden.