August 10, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
It was quite curious for Dad to say, hey
I don’t believe in you
Not that he doesn’t support nor trust
But that my very existence is at question
Well clearly I’m here I said but nope
Comeback: it’s all hallucination
A tumour perhaps, brain injury dementia
I briefly considered a smack in the mouth
Perhaps breaking his shit
Decided I couldn’t be fucked
Turned to the unicorn and said let’s go
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April 28, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
she looks like a diamond thief whispered my mother
and i’m suddenly happy we made up a fake meeting story
a swing dancing class three weeks ago
not www.dateadiamondthief.com
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April 28, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
Mr Zebra with your stripes and your secrets
That perfect life you’ve built with a home and business
Family, friends, neighbours and a swimming pool
That trimmed lawn of greenest green
You know your wife had other lovers
Just as you did, before you met
And most of the time it doesn’t play on your mind
But sometimes it does come to play
And it’s a production
LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION!
A director, a red couch, a three-act structure
Glowing reviews for a flushed blonde
Seductive and scheming
Marrying for money, surely
Will she get her comeuppence?
Mr Zebra with those holes in the dirt
And a job that allows you to travel
When will one of those secrets follow you home?
Word on the street is stripes may as well be a barcode
But perhaps black paint took care of that
That technology huh, always progressing
Digging over those cold cases
The production sometimes a dark future
Mud-splashed fugitive who was a successful lawyer
And here’s the twist, the spoiler:
HE REALLY IS THE MURDERER!
Will some clever birds ruin the play?
Their dig dig digging, their barcoding
Mr Zebra, you good time fella
Tell me there is more to the script
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April 8, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
you want angles, I’ll give you angles
i’ve got this triangle house right here
its got angles up the wazoo
you can’t turn around without bumping into an angle
oh, be careful there – ha, there’s angles!
oh, angels, you wanted …
you want angels, I’ll give you angels
i’ve got this … triangle house
its got angels up the … everywhere
you can’t turn around without … brushing against an angel
oh, be … holy … there – ha, there’s angels alright.
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April 5, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
watch my fingers as i type the ransom note
whisper from the bed ‘they’ll never pay’
travel across town, down my road
up my drive, to my door
come around
and be bound
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March 30, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
no word for my strong desire
to lick your tongue
suck on your nose
bite right under your arm
no word for my strong desire
to be owned, possessed
controlled, suppressed
to have rules laid on me
i will be disobedient
i’ll brat you, purposefully
so you’ll get angry
and spank me
i want your strong hand
around my arm
i want to surrender joyfully
utterly
tell me what to do
when to do it
instruct me
oh, and fuck me, too
no word for all this
for my forbidden conceit
perhaps i’ll call it love
- that’s enough.
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March 24, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
my lover, up on my very high shelf
swinging your legs to and fro
what can you see from up there
is it more than I can from down here?
so my lover, throwing olives down
wearing those striped stockings
and an ankle bracelet
adorable wicked witch of the west
i’ll take you down from the shelf
carry you kickingandscreaming
encase you in a warm prison
to which you hold all the keys
then it’s back to my very high shelf
and coy kicking, showing those legs
keeping me awake
throwing olives down
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March 13, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
the possibility of leaving my grave approaches
so i dress well and cut my hair
shave my face and organise my wallet
pull myself together most studiously
to pace on such a day as this is unseemly
but really what else am i to do?
i’m waiting on a baby, waiting on an election result
waiting on a jury, waiting on an earth-shatter comet
the last trip, i’ll admit, was terrible
birds following, children crying, milk sour
dogs sneezing, dirt rolling, bread falling
and ravens, ravens snapping at my skin
the time is upon us!
a decision is approaching, my children
the voice is rising, a soft mumble
it sounds like yes yes yes
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March 9, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
all things wash away
especially sugar cubes
man, you get a sugar cube wet and poof!
it’s gone, baby.
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March 6, 2011 by Mathew Ferguson
i made a friend today
his stitches itches him
and he fiddles with his buttons
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