Learning to Count


Glad that’s over.

What’s happening? Who am I? What happened last night?

Teen romances and first loves, they aren’t meant to last.
It’s time to find ‘me’.

Searching…data not found.
Filling shelves while I wait.
Fell in love with a dream.
Spooned my pillow.

I have a plan.
I think?
Step one anyway.
Head down. It’s the journey that matters.

High school. Same building.
New pool of pupils.
Nobody remembers my friends streaking at swimming practice.

Friend is having a baby.
Dick went from displayed publically to deployed reproductively.
Photos on Facebook.
I’ve sure been single a long time.

Almost 30
Uni undercover.
Studying amongst students younger than the year 7 kids.
Still unemployed.

Basically 30
Head down.
It’s the journey that matters.

29. 30. What’s the difference?
I can do 30 twice.

What comes next?
I’m still learning to count.


Some movie trailer’s trending.

It’s all about the place.

It’s on Facebook and on Twitter,

Getting all up in my face.

Why oh why is a trailer trending?
Why’s everyone excited?

Before YouTube we all hated them,

Now everyone’s delighted to lay eyes

Upon the prize that is this hype; which I despise.

A tasty little teaser made to tempt you from your task.

Some scenes to spark the questions you’re all aching just to ask.

Some hints and hidden Easter Eggs are waiting to be found.

The franchises’ fevered fan base throwing theories all around.

“Did you see that secret symbol flash at 1 minute forty-three?

It’s alluding to a character of some obscurity.

I’ve read the graphic novel so it’s plain as day to me.”

How much better would it be
without a different movie trailer trending every single week?

Straight Male Tinder

Oh she looks nice!

Swipe right.

Body’s tight.

Swipe right.

I read her bio and she seems like just my type.

Swipe right.

Brows on point.

Swipe right.

Is that a joint?

Swipe right.

White girls with dreads and half-shaved heads.

Shrug. Sure!

Swipe right.

Oooh too young.

Swipe left.

Single mum.

Swipe left.

In every single pic there’s more than one.

Swipe left.

Account’s a joke.

Swipe left.

She’s with a bloke.

Swipe left.

She’s successful
and it’s regretful she’d never date someone broke.

Swipe left.

It’s a match.
We swiped right.
She’s quite a catch
and she swiped right
Punching above my weight,
need something cool to say
“Hey  thanks for swiping right.”
She replied!
She swiped right.
Have I died?
Why’d she swipe right?
High off my luck
I say
“not much.
You up to anything fun tonight?”

I wait a while
And swipe right
Through more of my pile
Swipe right, right right.
She replies
“I’m looking for sex with guys
if you click this link…”
Ugh, spam.
Oh she seems nice!
Swipe right.
Her body’s tight.
Swipe right.
Are they real?
I want to feel
so I’ll swipe right
::Out of Likes today::

Classification: Ovum

Vine ripened lycopene machine
Seeds scream and shoot through
The swollen organ walls
Split with teeth
My nightshade of choice
And sure, I’ve read the articles and journals
Diagrams and dissections
That confirm the grocer’s gross mistake
But let me ask you this:
If tomato is a fruit, why don’t we eat it with custard?

Poetry is

Pacing and pausing.

He was The Thinker and The Scream.

Hands clamped around his head,

Fingers raking his face in a theatrical thought he seemed unaware of;

Disturbing the balance of the glasses upon his nose.

His eyes were shut anyway.

How did he ever spot those back seat laptop kids from behind his eyelids?

Those were not permitted.

Just pens on the pulp where the poems were printed.
Reading aloud as pupils follow along.

Pacing and pausing,

Then taking a seat

“Poetry is”

Curled up in a chair on the stage, layers of verse resting against his folded leg as he performed and poured his knowledge out

to himself

crowd looking on.

The embers of autumn set against a room full of spring.


Seduced by the lens in the moment.
Electronic theatre.
Setting the stage from taxi backseats and bright bathroom mirrors,
the clutter cropped out and kept far from the frame.
Life, a film set with invisible crew.
Pixels painting portraits.
Extras unpaid, unwilling, unknowing.
The camera captures me at my most confident,
Indulge my indignations and petty imperfections.
Filters imagining a new reality.
I am real and I am digital,
In a data trail documenting my development.
My audience,
Everyone, will know, ‘I was here.’