Category Archives: Published Work

Poem: When the end of the world comes…

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When the end of
the world comes
there will be bastards
selling merchandise
desperate hawkers
on the side of the road
to oblivion
reaching out
in crashedcrushed suits
selling us the nooses
they make us
want to hang ourselves with

Nero would have been so proud
Not just a mad man
fiddling whilst a city burns
but a whole orchestra
a bank of mad-hatters
stock brokers smashing cymbals
generals blowing horns
politicians fiddling on giant basses
and executives twiddling with flutes
a symphony whilst they sell us off
to the highest bidder
before we’re cooked to a cinder
and when the end of the world comes
they’ll sell us the box set of DVDs
with extra features
and tell us the soundtrack is to die for

New pieces published at Overland

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I’m very lucky and honoured to have two pieces published recently with the progressive literary journal, Overland – one blog post and a spoken word piece.

Yesterday, the special edition, Audio Overland went online, edited by Maxine Clarke and includes my spoken word poem, ‘Climbing’ which is part of a suite of poems I’ve been working on concerning refugees and mandatory detention.

And two weeks ago, my blog post on the battle of the various ebook formats, ‘Monopolish’ appeared as a guest blog post in the ‘Loudspeaker’ section, drawing on a bunch of ideas about digital publishing and ebook technology has been discussed on this blog.

Both pieces are available free online but I would encourage you to support Overland by subscribing.

Athenian hangover

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3am
reduced to clear
pikelets with jam
Greek elections
on the tele

I’d take a shot of ouzo
everytime a journo tells me
I’m going to go bankrupt
but I can’t afford any

In the morning,
Greeks wake up late,
a seedy film on their skin

Don’t need to drink
ouzo, to know what
an Athenian hangover
feels like

Bankers bloated from binging
on unnecessary midnight snacks
the rest peer into fridges
searching for scraps

the bankruptcy notice
waiting on the table
to take everything
they don’t have

Bubble

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Bunkered down
writers inside Town Hall
escape into a bubble of
pure creativity, receding
yet emerging without distractions

Just for a short time
we create a ghetto
amongst traditional buildings
and feel guilty about
embellishing, gorging on
the process

Last night’s literary conversation
oozes out of pores
smelling of gin
clashing with espresso
jump-starting our minds
for another day
just one more day

‘The Melbourne Poetry Scene’ on Overland

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Today on the Overland blog, my post, ‘The Melbourne Poetry Scene’ talks about, well, the Melbourne poetry scene:


I discovered the Melbourne poetry scene about two years ago, on a train home to Coburg one night. I ran into Santo Cazzati on his way to read poetry in a pub in Brunswick. That’s how I learned about Passionate Tongues at the Brunswick Hotel: by word of mouth. And from there, the Dan, the Spinning Room and the Overload Poetry Festival. I found a whole swathe of readings, slams and events had been going on right under this poet’s nose. An entire world was opened up through one man mentioning the scene in passing and it amazed me that I had never come across any of it before. I had gone to festivals, literary events and book launches, but never knew that underneath Melbourne, there existed a world of poetry.

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‘ASIO checks destroy refugee lives’ on Socialist Alternative

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Today on Socialist Alternative, my article ‘ASIO checks destroy refugee lives’ appears:

At 1am on 14 May, I received a text message informing me that another refugee had attempted suicide inside Broadmeadows detention centre. It was the third attempt this month; another stark reminder of the effect mandatory detention has on refugees.

Jasee, a Tamil refugee, tried to hang himself after viewing a Mother’s Day special on TV. It had reminded him of his mum, who died during the civil war in Sri Lanka. He was 13 at the time.

One of the asylum seekers from the Oceanic Viking in 2009, he remains in detention today even though he has been recognised as a refugee by the Department of Immigration. Like more than 55 other refugees, negative ASIO security checks condemn him to a life of indefinite detention. He is stuck in legal limbo. His refugee status and legitimate fear of torture or death if returned to Sri Lanka mean he cannot be deported. Yet the Immigration Department refuses to release refugees that have been condemned by ASIO’s secretive process of security checks and “character assessments”.

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On Friday, the Refugee Action Collective (Victoria) – which I’m apart of – will be holding an action outside the Department of Immigration demanding an end to indefinite detention and an end to ASIO security checks. See Facebook for more details.

Poem: False Light

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In isolation,
there is only false light
when seeking refuge
and your oppressors
deliberately misinterpret
‘seeking asylum.’

A light bulb hangs
like strange fruit
casting small shadows
lighting windowless walls
so he can’t see out
and we can’t see in

And a door offers no way out
so he takes the light bulb
in his weak hand
on the stem of a scarred wrist
he crushes the light
and swallows the pieces
hoping that perhaps
it will piece together
inside his body
and light up his beating heart
so we can see it beating

First poem of 2012

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There is something really amazing about writing your first poem, the first from 2012, after writing got a bit hard and painful for a few weeks. After much anguish, including over trivial things such as stationary, I blessed a new notebook with words and instantly felt better.

I hope 2012 brings many moments like this, with perhaps less anguish. Here is my first poem of 2012. In the coming days, I’ll let you know what else is in store for this year in my writing and this blog.

Writing

—

Like a junkie
poetic withdrawals
leave you shaking
searching frantic
for exactly the right pen

like the right vein
shallow
wet and visible
except the pen is there
to release poison
cleansing

The search for release
comes at all costs
sweating in the heat
forgetting your stomach
eating at its insides
but if only you could find
that perfect pen

bleed black onto paper
then speak it
seal your fix
open and unashamed
acutely aware of a strange
addiction
only addicts really understand

unlike the judging eyes
of normal people
who bottle everything up
look at you with pity
even disdain
if you dare disclose:
“I’m a writer.”

Left with desire
to find others
not just to read or listen
but to understand the words
that split out of you
messy like heavy sobs

when finally, it is done
you feel better, calmer
sometimes a little ashamed
that you went through that
all of it
just for a poem

You know then
that you are not normal
dysfunctional amongst the functional
but normal, calm and at home
standing facing odd friends
and strangers alike
finally functional amongst
the beautifully dysfunctional
your family of poets

"Christmas Island/They Kill Them"

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Last month, at my favourite poetry venue in Melbourne, I was very lucky to join Amanda Anastasi on stage during her featured performance. Both Amanda and I discuss the issue of refugees in our poetry and so it was a special honour for us to combine our poems – Amanda’s “Christmas Island” and my poem, “They Kill Them” – and present “Christmas Island/They Kill Them” at Passionate Tongues at the Brunswick Hotel. Big thanks to Randall Stephens, another great Melbourne poet, for providing the footage so I could edit it and upload it to share it with you all.