Generation Type-A Stupid Head

In my day children were raised in a box
With nothing to play with but splinters and socks.
What creativity such props would inspire!
Socks! Chanting around a splintery pyre,
Sock puppet theatres, splintery stages,
Torturing socks with splinters in childlike rages!

Nowadays children have Mobile Devices,
Minecraft, Scribblenauts and other such vices.
How can they learn, how can they function?
Using dinguses without compunction.
They lack the appalling boredom and shame
That made me the man I am today!

Sixty Percent of Australians are Assholes

Shop about,
Dear Indian student, to learn
A profession’s ins and outs.

Don’t come to Australia,
We’re racists here—
Xenophobic and ruled by fear.

Take your gap year,
Dear Canadian peers,
Somewhere enlightened.
Of Australia, stay clear. It’s weird,
My commonwealth friends, but I note
We torture people who come here by boat.

We send ’em to islands with disease and rapers
And if someone faked papers,
Lord help them! For fleeing
From terror, they’ve errored.
Now illegal human beings,
People here think the government’s not doing enough
To be inhumanely brutally rough.

Which UTS Building Is the Main One Anyway?

To this meet I am goin’
Geoff’s throwin’
With Rain
It’s at this place that’s kinda hard to explain
It’s a style of building you don’t see a lot
If you’re not from Telstra or the communist bloc
This darkly stained tower where we hold our meet?
Is a mixture of Kubrick and browned cobblecrete
You guessed it, it’s your favourite, it’s the UTS tower
But is it the true seat of UTS power?

I Randomed Meepo

shit shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck
i wanted necro or potm or puck
or doom or pa or even es
zeus lina axe huskar or anyone else
look at his hillbilly shit eating grin
and with my skill at micro? we ain’t gonna win
i’ll be standing in lane with my view distantly
farming a camp while I’m ganked mercilessly
my team’s gonna hate me for poofing about
with the speed of a frozen fish fillet with gout

How Do You Justify Test Driven Development?

On test driven development, opinions vary
So let me give you some advice for the wary
Performance? It’s easy as to convey
You can run some numbers and see what they say
UX? It’s subtle but quick to effect
And you’ll get lotsa smiles from the users you met
Following a style guide and conveying intent?
You’ll see straight away mismatching indents!
But how do you teach how it feels to be free
Of staying back late to fix bug 93?
How do you convey in actual words
When the software you write actually actually works?

What Is the Skin In the Middle of Your Nose Called?

Amelia Canning’s question: What’s the skin in the middle of your nose called?

I want to say phylum but maybe that
Is some Greek sex toy or some Roman hat
I want to say innex but it sounds kind of wrong
Like a preppy bayarea nineties dot com
I want to say pilaf but it sounds too delicious
I want to say nostrum but it feels too contritious
I want to say snotwall, it’s the funniest name
I want to say bridge but it’s already a game
And a thing that you cross to get over a creek
And hey! it’s already a part of your beak
All my life, my nostrils it separately kept ’em
What? Septum? Ha ha no, it’s definitely not septum

Eat Me Like One of Your French Fries

her warm chest, against my back.
her arm, it snakes around me.
an empty cardboard sleeve in her,




golden arches on a jaunty red.
i inspect it.
cardboard reflected in my,




i want you to eat me, wearing this
her lips touch my ear.
silk drapes billow, softly.




Bitchy Resting Face

Paulina’s Question: Why do civilisations rise and die?

Word: Bitchy Resting Face

Hot oily Egyptians
Got frisky with Christians—
Cleo’s dance card was full.
But she turned around
And sadly found
That her temples and libraries were burned to the ground.

Catherine the Great
Left things in a state
That nobody thought could be better.
But her empire got sick
With Archdukes, Bolsheviks,
And BAM, became a soviet socialist republic.

Tzu-hsi’s dynasty
Was in dire need
Of a great number of modern reforms.
Her people revolted,
White men got assaulted,
Then a lotta white armies showed up and she bolted.

See, in each of these cases,
It wasn’t the traces
Of bitchiness in their ruler’s faces.
The reasons were strange,
And the rulers got blamed.
The only thing that’s constant is change.

Quarters, Dimes and Nickels

Quarters, dimes and nickels are fine
But what’s a dime, when you live abroad
And deal in dollars and cents all the time?

How Do We Decide What Is Moral?

Question: How do we decide what is moral?

Word: Peter Principle

Yesterday I had a performance review,
And seeing as how it was long overdue,
I got a promotion to “Ultra Pooh Bah
King of the World and Importantest Tzar,
Ruler of All who Doth Canst See-eth Me
(And Decider of All Morality)”
So now that I’m the headest honcho,
The strippers and booze that you said, “Had to go”?
They’re by the book, they’re protocol now!
Oh don’t look like that, you silly old cow.
All your boring old rot about equality’s not
How the world works, besides which you’re not even that hot.

Deny Everything

I can’t write a poem every day, no way!
I have things to do I have bills to pay.
I’ll starve, I won’t make it down to the shop,
To buy food, you know? I’ll be sacked from my job.
I’ll be sweaty and dirty unshowered unclean,
And I’m sure Geoff will be uncharacteristically mean.
He’ll write hundreds of poems, with little more,
Than it takes me to write just one metaphor.
His similes like noses, poised and ready
To detect my stinking prose and depose it
With elegant rhyme and wicked enjambment.
Damn it Geoff.
Why’d I agree to this gambit.

Daddy Love

layla layla layla layla
williamstown, melbourne australia
you are your mummy and daddy’s parts
arms legs eyes face hair hands heart



Are there more fish in the sea or is it all a big lie?

dose me again this balustrade
i cling to is love is a fool
is facade
my eye is danger is cavernous night
is elevation is haunted sight
like the one from the top
of my topple down stairs
hard blood wood pinched short baluster pairs

from this crazy high up i can see
well love,
just the bottom of the stairs
where i’ll be


Write everything you know about dying.

rupture eclipse snapping pain white light
such a glorious sound! such a colourful sight!
i’m jealous. i am. i received my death blow
before you were born—many years ago.

How Can I Hold All These Limes?

Question: How can I hold all these limes?

Word: Flesh wound

When the battle starts my friends, be fast
Hold them off with your shield and your staff
For if I sustain but the smallest flesh wound
I will have to make a saving throw
Or drop these limes to the depths below
Then how will we season our drinks, hmm?
And how will we make pancakes rise?
And exactly how will we add a fruity tang
To our next pad thai, do you surmise?

So, I’m Like, Really?

So, I’m like, really? – Samakaza

Shazam – Angus


Kissin and fightin

A midnight wind, a fiery street
A mass of twisted chrome, our feet
Our trench coats, gloves and furrowed brows
The heat in our shaking hands, our frowns.

She stands over the cooling corpse
All smoking gun and no remorse,
Inscrutable face all milky white,
Ruby lips all pursed up tight.

“Shazam!” she shouts, “We nailed his ass!”
Seriously? No gravitas?
“Bam!” she shouts, “Shinga linga ding!”
I’m finding this rather embarrassing.

“He’s totes dead now!” She kicks his spine.
A fiery slump punctuates the line.
“Hot diggity dog! Let’s loot his cash!”
I stare unconvinced at a pile of ash.

Crystal Cold Air, Grey Library Carpet

Flickering madly on my screen
The words you shaped in a place
with different light

I wait at the desk for the door to open
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
stay my drifting eyes

Your Hands

What were you thinking
In that dim light?
I wake up in the night sometimes.
To see your hands. Did you know?
Pale, full fingers, always moving,
Drawing pictures on my ceiling.
I look up at them.

Trickles Retreating

Trickles retreating through grooves in park seating.
Petals unsettled by wide crying skies.
Fleeting feet mark out wet footsteps.

You know,

    Except for that pair of lovers there,
    Nobody’s enjoying this cold wet air,
    But their camera’s pulled out and their teeth are bared;
    Their shivering smiles to be captured and shared,
    With loved ones who’ll try in earnest to care.

    And that is all very nice, I suppose,
    But it’s a life that I chose to give up for the road,
    That has led me here to this very wet seat,
    I can sit on and watch my failings repeat.