Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Australian Poet Brenton Booth

Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Poetry and fiction of his has appeared in over 150 journals over the past few years. His poetry collection " Punching The Teeth From The Sky" is available from Epic Rites Press. To read more of his work visit brentonbooth.weebly.com


WHISPERS FROM THE ASYLUM

Don’t let them
tell you
the earth is a
book
or the fish should
walk but your hunger
has taken there
legs
or the complete works
of Shakespeare is more
than you will ever
be
don’t let them
tell you
the gods are peaceful
or the dogs should
only run in the
park
or the best pimps
wear suits and take
tax file numbers and
holiday in beautiful
Tahiti
don’t let them
tell you
without love you
are incomplete
or Frazier was less
than Ali
or the birds don’t
see the night
don’t let them
tell you
the guns are necessary
or the sandwich costs
10 dollars
or your disappointment
with the world is really
your own depression
don’t let them
tell you
you should forgive
your parents if they
don’t deserve it
or it’s best to hide
from the rain
or words don’t come
easy
don’t let them
tell you
you will always
owe them
or technology is the
most important
thing
or Facebook is any
different to the tiny
world of the school
playground
don’t let them
tell you
right is wrong
or everything has
its price
or success is more
important than
sleep
don’t let them
tell you
there is more than
one race
or women are greater
than men
or men greater than
women
don’t let them
tell you
the brown leaves
aren’t crying
or the most important
day is tomorrow
or history has already
made us all we can
be
don’t let them
tell you
Nietzsche was a
madman
or punishment is better
than cure
or the worst suffer
behind steel bars
don’t let them
tell you
the stars don’t sing
or the big bad wolf
is waiting for you
behind the door
or minimum wage
is not a crime
don’t let them tell you
don’t let them tell you
don’t let them tell you
because if you do
you will be
just
like
them.


A POEM FOR THE BLONDE ACROSS
THE STREET THAT KEEPS WATCHING
ME THROUGH HER WINDOW

Well I am listening to
Satyagraha and have
just finished my 8th
glass of whiskey
I just thought of a
new story that I will
write later about a
cold hearted woman
with a large collection
of dicks she has been
collecting from men
for many years
that falls in love and
gets her heart broken
then gets drunk and
choke’s on one of
them,
when the album
finishes I will watch
m.m.a for a while and
finish the rest of the
bottle
then shadow box a
bit imagining I could
have been a great
fighter
order a pizza
eat that
get a shower
take a dump
and try to write a
poem;
so anyway
now you know
everything I will
be doing for the
rest of the day,
so please:
stop fucking watching
me!


MERMAID

You
have
it all
figured
out—
everything
and then
she smiles
at you,
and you
are
an idiot:
again.


AFTER THE WORDS

When
the
words
stop
hang
me
like
an
old
painting
on
a
museum
wall
and
let
people
only
see
the
best
of
me.

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