Rape Joke

What’s with dictionaries saying a person can rape

a rainforest? And some paddocks in the countryside!

Might your abused tree feller, twisted out of shape,

get to felling women for a bit of workmanly pride?

Do any of your crazy, right-wing country bumpkins

think rape and wind turbines comparably clean?

Do they think more of rape as it applies to pumpkins,

your involuntary celibates of perpetual Halloween?

And when your paparazzi are accused of stalking,

say, by a struggling actor who released a sex tape

to get all the wrong people in Hollywood talking,

dictionaries, are they not broad enablers of rape?

Mad Mountain

It just goes up and up, this inverted pope,

this mountain no one ever really conquers.

But in climbing beyond each frozen rival,

beyond each benchmark in being bonkers,

may each ensure your everlasting survival

up among the solidest exemplars of hope.

Free Easton Woodhead: A monologue in progress

I’ll finish this – privately – over the coming year.

(He takes a deep breath and frowns at the audience) Where was I at where was I at where was I at…a WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY thinker was I…to think myself the son of a werewolf…the vampire hunter of Flinders Street…but our mechanics of the mind, our finest psychiatrists, they all had a tinker (points to his temple) and to treat my good self as the monster rather than my drug-induced delusion…now tranquilized…now in a coma…(raises his voice in punching the air) knocked out forever by Risperdal Consta…to continue to lock me up in this madhouse…in this penitentiary…(shaking his head) for a crime I didn’t commit…as though it will give the psychotic the good sense to know when they’re erring…the good sense to say “I hear you God…and I agree Ma’s the devil…but once there was a judge and he’s done some deterring”…is wrong…(pause for a few seconds)…I’m 22…I want to be much more than a tale about a drug-smoking drop-out…a cautionary tale told by SQUARES…(using a hand as a megaphone to narrate a REEFER MADNESS ad) we gave him sporting fields and game shows and our houses of parliament and he said WHO…FUCKING…CARES to society (pretending to roll a joint) in rolling his joints and packing his bong and…(looking out into space and speaking softly and slowly) breaking out of his body into the great beyond and…(pause for a few seconds)…and…(pause for a few seconds)…(shaking his head) and they want to keep me locked up in here for HOW LONG…just until all my youth is gone…(nodding his head) just for a quarter of a century…as though I wouldn’t be willing to be drug-tested whenever and wherever…as though my stance against the war on drugs would ever lead me…knowing the werewolf out there…to smoke, snort, swallow or inject ANYTHING no better for me (pretending to shoot himself in the head) than some silver slugs…as though I couldn’t get by on booze alone…a bottle of Keith Urban…some red Naomi Klein…(laughing) some fruity Germaine Greer…all do faaaar more damage to society than the needle and cone but you wouldn’t deprive a poor soul of a drink perfectly legal…you wouldn’t deprive a poor poet of his spirit…(pause a few seconds)…a young scientist of the chance to sail on HMS Beagle or an explorer a chance to sail on the Endeavour…(silence for several seconds)…you wouldn’t let me become as rooted in this tiny place as a tree out there in the courtyard…to rot like a piece of fallen fruit…surrounded by flies…(pretends to peck the audience with a hand) being pecked at by crows…and barely a day passes in this joint without someone being bullied…without some mad Nazi unleashing a bloody blitzkrieg of blows…(silence for several seconds)…(in a different, deeper and more angry voice, the voice of a Nazi bully) what are you watching this for…I don’t like Question Time…(in his normal voice) I don’t blame you…how about we watch a movie instead…how about…(in the voice of the bully) it’s all just another dirty Zionistical criiiiiiiiiiime…(silence for several seconds)….(in his normal voice) is that…(in the voice of the bully) they say I tried to murder our next Prime Minister…but how could it really have been Bill Shorten when the real Bill Shorten had been abducted…(pause a few seconds)…when the real Bill Shorten had been replaced for reasons most sinister…with an actor…a dirty Jewish substitute GUARANTEED to back the occupation…to steal and pollute Al-Quds…(pointing to his temple) you can tell it’s not really Bill Shorten by the missing mole…(pointing at the audience) that’s one little detail the Jews forgot…and by what Hitler…by what…WHAT ARE YOU SMILING ABOUT, MISTER…the real Bill Shorten…dead or alive…is somewhere deep down in a hole and you’re smiling as though it’s funny…(in his normal voice, but afraid) no I’m not…I was just thinking…(in the voice of the bully) WHO CARES WHAT YOU THINK…(pause for a few seconds)…(in his normal voice but afraid) sorry mate…I didn’t…(in the voice of the bully and wagging a finger at the audience) DON’T COME ON TO ME MATE…DON’T COME ON TO ME…YOU’RE A FAG…A FILTHY…JEW-LOVING…FAG…I SAW YOU WINKING…(in his normal voice, no longer afraid, guarding his face with his hands) annnnnd POW…pow pow pow…(covering an eye with a hand) ow ow ow…with the spilling of the claret…(pretending to sew stitches in an eye) and the sewing of the stitches…and the hopelessness…(pause for a few seconds)…the knowledge that the most vicious abuse is reserved for the snitches and that many little spills can add up to floods…that no one can help me…not my Dad with a million angry letters or my Mum with mercurochrome, all maternal and cottony…that if I were to harden the fuck up and not suffer in silence…if I were to lower myself to the level of the “mad dogs”…I would not only have the cuts and bruises…not being a natural fighter…but a (air-quoting) “propensity to engage in violence” and never get out of here…(pause a few seconds)…never be free of the threat of extinction…(pause a few seconds)…free of their demoralizing guilt-trip…(pause a few seconds)…free to reject all their little rules and therapeutic programs and truly live a life of distinction outside of this one nightmarish scene…(pause a few seconds)…to get on a motorbike…a Harley-Davidson…and travel up the coast…travel the length and breadth of Australia…and never settle in any TOWN or JOB or ROUTINE that every day…around the country…unleashes the madness in monotony…

To be continued…

The Schembri Monster (2017)

Schembri Monster

A portrait of Jim Schembri.

Click to enlarge.

 

Unsullied Sheets (2018)

Unsullied Sheets