For Jenn

Hyperactive, or welded
Hard as ice, those tiny
Nervous twitches ended
Times that were mostly good.

A subtle quantity
That changes like the smell
Of rain on stone, and only
Rarely leaves us well.

And so you turned to drugs
Without a book to guide you,
Reading urges shot through
Your stringy nerves and blood,

And to take another user
To your bed, this ink addict
So surely is a loser
To be lost so quick.

But numb fingers slip,
So easy to fall through,
But sure apon the instrument,
They hit each line so true.

Matthew Spong 91


Fly your coat like a kite in the road,
Wings spread out in the smoke.
The wheel on the card is not to be feared,
On the wheel you are only a spoke.

There's a charge for these dangerous days, my friend,
And we pay it alive and dead.
There's no reckoning, only oblivion,
In the box when the flames are fed.

Well the smoke smells just like smoke does
And it never ascends very high,
But gets blown out to sea or caught in the trees
When it's still and the weather is dry.

The cold wind shills if you have no coat
And its blowing will drive you insane
But the chill will never last as long
As the silence we come to again.


I ride it up,
This one-second-long white stair,
Leaving ears
That hear their own shred,
A tear in the air.
Being stressed, then
Relaxing in ruin.
Morning rose red,
Steaming, adorns
The footprint of Jupiters horns'
Grey-white blink. Now,
At half the speed of light
This jagged mover takes
The need to think.
Stolen, stare at the clouds.
I ride it up, to clearness,
Leaving my friends below to pass
Another night without stars.


Well some folks eat iguana
Or roasted rattlesnake,
While others feast on whildebeast
Or chateau brieande steak,
But me and Henry Lee
Don't clown around with Irish stew,
We go to town when we chow down
On Hot Boy Barbeque!

And I'm hungry,
So very hungry.
I really don't know what to do
Cause you're the meat I want to chew.

I'm Otis Toole the cannibal,
You may have heard my name,
But I did all the cooking
While Henry got the fame.
They put him in a movie
And slapped my ass in jail,
So I sell my ass in the showerblock,
And someday I'll make bail.

And I'm hungry,
So hungry,
I'd really like to make a date
To have you on my dinner plate.

We had our day down Texas way
Where the chilli’s mighty hot,
And first you're for the chopping block
And then you're for the pot.
There's nothing like that boy child taste,
It really hits the spot.
The only sweeter meat I know
Grows in a babys cot.

Now I'm hungry,
Very hungry,
To hit the street and meet the meat
That talks and walks apon two feet.

I really miss my lover Lee,
He had a way with knives,
He'd take the girls virginity
Before he took their lives.
And fill my heart with jealosy
For boys and girls and goats that he
Would take in carnal ecstacy,
Then cook with cream and chives.

Now I'm hungry,
Really hungry,
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
For one more Hot Boy Barbeque.

Quite a few years ago I was in an art exhibition, and my name on the program was only two lines away from that of Otis Toole.

Otis Toole was a mass murderer in Texas who used to roam the countryside with Henry Lee Lucas, killing young kids and eating them. He was an unabashed cannibal, actually prefering the taste of human meat to anything else.

He was in that program because a couple of his drawings (a severed head and some severed hands in biro on paper) were being hung. The curator of the gallery had read about Otis in a magazine, and the story included a mail address at his jail. The curator wrote to him and recieved these drawings in reply, along with a demand that all proceeds from their sale be sent back promptly, because he was tired of bending over in the showers for $5 a shot.

Well, the drawings were the only things that sold in the exhibition, for 400 dollars apiece, and the money never left the curators hand. I guess Otis will be waiting for him down the road.


There's a little still in Byron
Where we brew a potent potion
With the smell of sour mash bourbon
And the taste of shaving lotion.
It glows like purple kryptonite
And helps you stay awake all night
And now we've got the mixture right
It's ready for promotion.

Brewin' mushroom whiskey
Full of goldtops and blue meanies
And I strain it through my beanie
So the flavours good and strong.
Well its mighty good for sippin'
And a week or so of trippen',
Flippen', gibberin', snort-rippen'
And it helped me write this song.

Up beyond the sunshine coast
There grows a fungus I love most
The psycho-active holy host
To members of the faith.
For getting up or getting down
No better substance has been found
So fill the jug and pass it round
And lets hallucinate!


With cylosybin, PCP,
And just a hint of THC
To make you feel O.K.
Some ketamine and mescaline
To drive you crazy round the bend,
Doctor Loveduds Special blend
Is here to save the day!



Darlin', yer a beauty,
You smell rilly nice.
Lets have a schooner
An' break the ice.
Tell me about yerself,
The things that you do,
No, I'm not just asking
'Cause I wanna sleep with you!

I'll go put some Barnsey
On the jukebox.
Y'know, you remind me
Of Samantha Fox.
Now don't take that wrong,
Just bein' polite,
So what are ya doin'
Later tonight?

That's Davo and Chooka
And Warren and Clay.
We come here quite often
Every day.
When you finish that
Can I buy you another?
Just bein' friendly,
You know, like a brother.

I wanna take you fishin'
An' show you my rod.
It's just like Rex Hunts',
I think he's a god!
So come to the barbie
Next Sat'dy night,
An' I'll cook you breakfast
If things turn out right!

Let's go for some dinner,
Takeaway Chinese.
Some fried rice and prawns,
Whatever you please.
We'll go back to my place
And turn the lights low
And eat in the video's
Romantic glow.

If you don't want to
That's perfectly fine.
You have to go home now?
Well, never mind.
I liked talking to you,
You've got a good brain,
And maybe tomorrow
We'll meet here again.