Poem - Emotion Bad. Money Good.

http://www.thepunch.com.au/

You could argue that this isn't really a poem. It's different than what I usually write but it is what it is. Sometimes you just have to get things off your chest.

Emotion Bad. Money Good.

I really don’t like banks

Who does? 

I once complained to a particular Australian bank

Because they sent me sent me a bill

Which happen to arrive on Christmas Eve.

I sent them an email... no big deal

It wasn’t nasty, but I told them I thought it was bad P.R.

A few days later a rep rang me up… of course, while I was on holiday 

Wanting to talk about my complaint.

She came laden with a fistful of attitude

As though, I had a problem and how dare I

I told her calmly I thought it was bad customer relations to send a bill on Christmas Eve...

She said that my credit card bill was due

and couldn’t see the problem,

with no skill in hiding her derision

and perhaps that was the intent.

I guess that’s why she worked for a bank.

Officially speaking, she was right

My card was due

But couldn’t they have sent it a day earlier?

Or postponed it by a day or two?

Of course not.

There’s no emotive consideration to their practices

As though people don’t use emotion when considering their finances

As though people don’t care when their bills turn up

Such as Xmas Eve

And Birthdays

Two basic dates they could easily avoid.

This is why banks suck...

Their greed and coldness insurmountable.

So I grew determined

and paid that card off as quickly as I could.

Unfortunately I still have a credit card

Which I immediately clear to avoid paying interest.

But not with that bank

As they don’t live in my world.

A quick writing update. A poem of mine, Stocktake, has been accepted by The Rusty Nail. I'll link to it when it's up. Another one, The trade off will be published in the Speed Poets zine in November.

A poem I had previously accepted, The Ghost is now on hold. The Midwest Literary Magazine has had its grant severed. It may mean that they will no longer publish it, or anything else. It's a great shame as it looked like a fine publication. In print too. 

The best way out of a disappointment (and I get many rejections) is to keep submitting. I've been writing a lot of poetry lately. Not sure why but if I've got a flow on, who am I to argue.

I've almost finished work on my seventh novel. I know I keep saying that but as most of you know, I have a little girl I look after full-time, (though work 25hrs a week). It's been two and a half years for this novel and I'm keen to finish it. I always have faith that this will be the one but after years of this, I'll merely say, I'm getting ready for the next step, which is trying to find it a home.

My daughter will be two this week. She's an absolute gem, so much fun to be around. I couldn't ask for better. I know I will look back on this period of my life as one of the happiest. 

Until next time,

Poem - A Proximate Echo

http://fotoni.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Cold-Forest-189382325

Recently a poem of mine was published in the Speed Poets Zine Vol.11.6. It's on sale through their website and at their monthly nights in Brisbane. There was only a limited edition. As you can see, its simple in style, reminiscent of the poetry chapbooks from the 50's and 60's. I love the look of them and have subscribed for a year for only $20. I have another poem coming up in a couple of months, which I will also post here. (2021-Magazine closed)

The poem was written in June 2011.

Here's how it appeared in the magazine followed by the poem itself. 

A Proximate Echo

Feel that dryness in your mouth

The whimpering in the dark corner

Behind you

The trembling in the floor

It’s the future

Coming back to haunt you

Reminding you where you should not be

You allowed yourself

To be a willing vessel to Fate

To sail with the natural state of things

But you were not to know

It would take you to places

You did not want to be.

You've gone too far now

To begin anew

And wishing won’t do

(To wish is to plea is to panic

 And lose it all)

And so all that’s left

Is the minutiae of hope

A bare fragrance

That around the bend

The current may lead you to another stream

And perhaps acceptance

That making a mistake

Is normal.

Human.

If only you knew for certain

That it was redeemable.

Poem included in the collection Caged without Walls


My Books

Poem - A caged memory

A caged memory

I was eighteen

And she

Maybe a year younger

I don’t remember exactly

But she was thin

Short, cropped blonde

With no tits

But the rest of her was gold

She was a tomboy

Which I like

Yet without a name

For this recounting

Though I still feel her body against mine

Underneath the water

In the river

The summer of our lives

Or some such cliché

But she was real and sexy

And slightly bowed

To my confidence

Which I no doubt faked

Which was what allowed

My hand to roam down her flat stomach

Into her bikini

Without a fraction of protest

As I hugged her from behind

Her ass in my groin

Her body tight

In my arms

And we kept each other warm

In the cool flowing water

Despite the sun

And the other teenagers

That played and swam and laughed

And I’m thankful for rivers

In particular their color

As no one could see

What was going on

And I was probably in some kind of heaven

Because I can remember that one moment

All these years later

With considerable clarity.

I can still feel her

Though don't recall her name

Or what happened to her

As I’m assuming she moved away

Soon afterwards.

And maybe you’ve got one of those memories too

The one that got away

Sampled

Savored

But not conquered

Lost along the way

To time

And the cellar of recollection

That is yours

And not theirs

And maybe you don’t want to know what happened to them

As that’s not the point

As they would be older too

And real

And less appealing.

We’re more than happy to be standing here

Looking back

When all things were better

As it’s our memory

And no one else’s

And that’s the best of us

And the best of them.

To this day, she will never know

That she’s never been better.

A true story

Rose colored

(Update: This post was published in 2012. The poem was then printed in my first Poetry Collection, Caged Without Walls (2013).

My Books

All Quiet in the Bell Tower

'It was one of those hot days where you can see the air rising up out of the ground...'

All Quiet in the Bell Tower

My short story was just published over at Narrator Australia. It's based on a real event that happened in January of this year while I was on holiday. (I'm the guy on the swing). It was one of those what the? moments...

(Story now available in the book, Pseudo Stars available HERE)

Even the dog was embarrassed. 

Please take a moment to leave a comment over at Narrator. Thank you.


Coming soon,
New original poetry.
Next month, a new video poem.

My Books