Full-Body Goosebumps

Listening to the dulcet voice of my generation cooing

At the crying child of our future doing an impression of nature

I wear a bespoke suit of full-body goosebumps.

My eyes would overflow their eroded banks if clean water weren’t an issue

But it’s 2018

And it is,

And my blood would spill outwards a free mosquito banquet

If someone else didn’t own that too.

Every day more horrendous acts in the name of reason and science

And only art to dress the wounds:

A little girl crying in her room googling how to make her skin thicker

How to build a mask out of dead cells and crazy glue

We’re all artists!

Especially when we least realise it

Because the best art is uncontrived and flows naturally in and out of the heart without conscious effort

We are all artists and that may be the only redeeming face we wear

The only thing worth leaving carved into this blue planet

With the strip mines and potholes

As if the earth were ivory pre-1989 and free to own, sell and scar

Businessmen are lauded as artists for excellence in their field

Tools of devastation are considered works of art

A murderer practises his sordid art

We name our kids after artists

And we name our art after disasters

Because everything horrendous still must have a name.



Faker Than Empathy

these are the things that don’t come true:



new years resolutions

and love stories

only the prophets

of a near disaster

get their pessimistic wish

to be famous

and say the most important words in human language

I told you so

A Moment of Pride I Want You To Share In

Today I am proud to say I am the feature artist on one of my favourite blogs Horror, Sleaze, Trash. HST is an Australian literary and arts juggernaut that promotes underground writers from across the world. They publish a highly-regarded quarterly journal and are a vital force for lesser-known writers and artists. Today Arthur has published three previously unseen poems of mine. These are poems straight from my id, vile statements of who I am under all the socialisation and unspoken insults. Facets in my personality diamond I’d be too afraid to reveal right there, in the flesh, in the full light of day, to even the most well-meaning mother. Instead I’d rather rip my trench coat open and expose my animal side to the whole world. Transgressions in digital.

So please, go ahead and check out my faecal soul, judge it as you would a deflated soufflé, a gnarled and malformed bonsai. Go on, you’ve had a long day, it’s only right you feel a little better about yourself. http://www.horrorsleazetrash.com/uncategorized/sook-samsara/


Propaganda Department 

I want to work for the government in the Propaganda Department

And manipulate minds

Like a sadistic computer technician

Engineering consent for horrible crimes

I want to paint dead kids in the hue of freedom

And fill factories with labourers

Who think we need the bullets

Because the only way to safety is through the sternum

And between the C1 and C2 vertebrae

With bayonets of strong rhetoric

I want to work in the Propaganda Department of the next Total War

Punching out death sentences on safe white paper

Because life has been dishonest to me and treated me poorly

And now, true to form, I want revenge

Not détente

I want to perpetrate the same crimes on another

That I am bruised with

And condemn them to the same treatment I’ve received

Feeling superior as I watch them suffer


I can be happily blind to my own hypocrisy

I will have successfully indoctrinated myself

Into the world


…And then I will be an asset



Photo by Camille / Kmile on Unsplash