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December 24, 2009

Soon

Christmas will start in June the shops will target us in March
Santa puffing his way round shopping centers as an annual fixture
of rolling laughter and x-mas lights we will never pull down lighting
the plastic to sky and the poets will hide
in the dark
wondering where the fuck Christ is.

Soon

the Easter Bunny can visit three times a year or we could kill two rituals
with the one advertisers wet dream:
we can breed him with Santa – a hybrid fat jolly
man rabbit with pointy ears
who can lay presents and shit chocolate, eat raw carrots and drink beer
if we could then just have our birthdays
(all 80 if you’re lucky)
before we’re born again but

the poets tears are not for sale
this year
this poet’s tears are no longer fears
I fear

Poetry by Ghostboy –

Thank you.
And Merry fucking Christmas.

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Standing Ovation (alternate titles include: Where in Sammi discovers the true meaning of “rip you a new one”, and: the day my girlfriend ripped my vagina off)

July 30, 2009

I am standing up as a type this.
Why?
Because of Mary.
Yep.
She took advantage of me today and now I can’t sit down.
I guess you could call this a standing ovation, of sorts.
Just without the clapping.
Because that’s one thing I definitely am not doing right now.

Clapping.

OK:
Back to the bit where Mary took advantage of me:

My darling girlfriend is a ‘hardcore’ lesbian.
Meaning she has been with girls since forever.
I am also hardcore (sometimes mistaken as having a pole stuck up my arse by dickwipes who wouldn’t know hardcore if it crawled up their arse and died)
But when it comes to girls I have to admit to being all sickly and marshmallow soft like.
Because when it comes to girls:
Mary is my first.

Now, gay straight or eternally fucking twisted,
We can all relate to having moments of weakness.
Moments where partners play their dominant hand,
The: “I’m more experienced than you,”
Or the: “You’re very very very drunk, aren’t you?”
Or the: “I’m stronger than you,”
Or the: “I know something you don’t know,”
Or the: “I have something you don’t want the police to see,” (what, just me then?)
Or the: whatever.

In some way, shape, or form,
We have all been to the place where we get taken advantage of.

It’s a place that I visit quite frequently,
Because when it comes to lesbian stuff,
Mary knows way more than me.

So today:
She approaches me with a jar of something that smells half fruity and half medical “keep that shit away from me”
And I SO should have trusted the second half,
But then she smiles all “I’m going to make you cum so hard you forget your own fucking name for 45 minutes” like,
And says, “You know what would be really hot? If you got a brazillian…”

I am all:
No fucking way.
I’m an Aussie.
A BUSH LOVING Aussie.

And she is all:
*Smile*
And *sex*
And *45 minutes of OH MY GOD WHO THE FUCK CARES WHAT MY NAME IS I AM IN HEAVEN*

I know.
She totally took advantage of me.

So I am lying on the bathroom floor,
One pony tail and tulips (say it slowly) away from a true birthday suit,
And Mary enters with the keep that shit away from me medical fruit smelling pot of liquid evil, cotton strips and silk ties.
I have second and third and fourth and fifth and a fucking gazillion thoughts
And while I am thinking she ties my hands together and ankles to the plumbing pipes.
Which under normal circumstances would be super hot,
Except for liquid evil that she is spreading over my beloved Aussie bush AND
OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT IS HOT!!!
AS IN YOU’RE BURNING A FUCKING HOLE IN MY HOLE HOT!!!

Which is fucking hard to sign with both hands tied together, let me tell you.

But I must have managed to get it across,
Because right before she tore me a new one,
Mary said, “Oh cum on, don’t be such a pussy!”

Then just to prove her point she tore my pussy from my body.

One strip at a time.

There was blood.

And tears.

And if it were not for the promise of 45 minutes where in I cum so hard I forget my own name,
Mary would never be allowed near this bush loving Aussie chick,
Ever, EVER, again.

*sob*

So this standing ovation is not for Mary,
It’s for my tulips.

gokeefe_canna
Cruelly ripped from my body by the hardcore bitch I call my girlfriend.
May they rest in peace forever more.

Amen.

I’m a deaf chick. And I can hear you.

April 16, 2009

Deafness is the inability to hear.
If hearing is the ability then deafness is the disability.
Yes?

I choose not to use my vocal chords to speak.
If speaking is the ability, then muteness is the disability.
Still yes?

Couple not hearing with not speaking and what do you have?
A communication disability?
A deaf mute?
A disabled chick?
A dumb blonde?

Do you think so?

Come on: Label me.
You can call me what ever the hell you like:
I can’t hear you.

Got it?

Good.

Now try this on for size:

If AusLan is the ability, not knowing AusLan is the disability.
Yes?
If lip reading is the ability, staring blankly at a moving mouth is the disability.
Still yes?

If you can’t hear my lips or speak my signs:
What does that make you?
Ignorant?
Uneducated?
Dumb?

***

You can hear.
I can’t.

I can speak AusLan and read lips.
You can’t.

Are you disabled?
Am I?

Just whose “communication disability” is it?

Is it anyone’s to be owned?

Huh.

Now there’s a thought.

Here’s another one:
Next time you want to call me deaf:
Don’t be offended when I call you dumb.