POEMS PAGE

MELBOURNE STUCKIST'S

I see her all the time on the bus

Who is this mysterious creepy creep fully clothed from head to toe,

Visible scars are recognisible on her hands big creepy-like raw runny flesh sticky scarey infestation of some unknown diease-like diease,

itchy scratchy face slightly limp by visible scars wounds hidden by her hair,

Crouched, distance, silent eyes of hope,

hope in the last great miracle of our Great Lord Jesus Christ,

What secerts does this creep hide locked away from the sunlight only to be unleashed in the cover of darkness in the misty haze the purple haze where echoes cease to exist,

Crazy man crazy of steering eyes & yuky dislikes of the creepy creeps lonely hearts club, broken by the common man monkey syndrome's dead desire of outcast madness,

The creepy creep retreats into her shell of despair & forgotten hope,

I think the creepy creep is cool,

I want to be friend!.....crazy man, crazy!

How do you see your lonliness?
in the mirror off reality nothing is hidden,
prehaps a skeleton whispers in your ears,
or maybe a fluorescent spider is seen in your shadow,
words are spoken but not directed at you,
alone you listen frantic, desperate,
but you retreat into your shell,
you yourself by yourself alone,
are you afraid of your lonliness?
where demons call your name at night,
as you pray to GOD for protection,
I say 'each monkey to his own tree',
or prehaps your life is like a dice roll,
rolling & always obscured by your reflection as it comes to a halt,
no companion, no friends, alone in the desert of humanity you wail,
does your lonliness stab like a stabbing knife?
all over your pass you lament,
as dung beetles move your lonliness here & there,
are your dreams baron empty or cold?
like a coin tossed into a wishing well that has no wish or value,
you sleep & drink, drunk in your lonliness,
'no more no more' are the last words i hear you utter,
the lonely person closes their eyes..........BANG!
by Regan Tamanui

OH TO MUSSOLINI'S LEFT TOE

Another word on the hi-way of clouds, so high in the sky i can fly & when i look down i smile, i can see mussolini's left toe, his face all withered & crunched up distorted & deformed i laugh & brush aside a tear & think of the melancholy of mussolini's ego
Now thats the fun thing i guess, like persistance of the falling rain,
Mussolini's shell he built himself, it looks's so good but he's pulling it down himself & he doesn't even know it yet, the wind is blowing against his face, his sporting new look is like an echoless hall,
Oh to mussolini's left toe .

by Regan Tamanui

There she is so beautiful, what a delight to look into her deep green eyes & put my hands on her warm robotic outer shell that encases the hidden secert's of this man-made bomb of destruction so smooth, so awesome, with the power to kill she hypnotise's me with her hypnotic power & her seductive charm of bullet-like beauty that holds me in awe,
I want to be by her side & watch her launch into the big blue sky, higher & higher she goes & then into my veins I feel her hit my body as if i'm in somekind of sitcom unreality, & whats her name ? .......................
Just ask harry .

by Regan Tamanui

All poems are copyright to the individual poets who have given permission to the melbourne stuckists to feature their worx.


				*MELBOURNE STUCKIST'S* *POEMS PAGE*



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