Archive for back

The Abyss Is A Cocktail Best Served With Lust

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on July 17, 2018 by malartart

I paint



my young


breasts cut the

safety line hold-

ing me to the

cliff face &






ice &



of lime




Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on June 21, 2018 by malartart

if books could kill

you’d’ve been read

a thousand times

consensual violence

won’t get us through this

so we’ll have to agree to

remain carefree now

& use what’s at hand

choke on oil paints

spit out a real purty print

no lean and all fat

no white nor black

yeah full colour but no life

all butcher lost swine

flat beer stands in for wine

all yours none mine none mine

to sell sell sell on market day monday

Too Close (To the Edge)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on May 30, 2018 by malartart

Hobbies start to bore

Career’s off the rails

Broke a nail then

Snapped at lunch

Family’s small

Intimacy is suffering

Touch a test of mettle

Weekends suffocate

Mrs is missing

Time on hands

Arms race begins

Home is where hearts lie

Birthing new ways to live

Now I’m in(to)breeding

There Are No More Photos Left Of You                             

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on October 14, 2017 by malartart

                        when you’re young, lust is enough

                                              kick off your shoes

                                                    a tambourine bangs below

                                                in for a pizza-pie, in for a pound

                            half’a kiss & tell and twenty mins of scream & shout

                           like in a speak & spell, worked her right back down

                                from rock bottom to 7up to the Pepsi Challenge

                                    but a line’a Coke’s just not enough

                                          worn down on Guinness for lunch

                                             worn in metal shirt, worn out metal shit

              she was shy as a broken button

                         but camera ready as hell

                                    sad to see back then

                                                    no Facebook


                                                               or Instagram

                                                             to remember her with

                             thunder in my heart, white lightning in my veins

second date way before the first

                               third an’ forth were in reverse

two years and I would be drunk on dysfunction

                        flannel and fabric, sluice from my mouth

                                         Mitchell self-drove north every night

                        in the morning I rolled further south

                                        too far in the middle ages now

              she was shy as a broken button

                         but camera ready as hell

                                    sad to see back then

                                                    no Facebook


                                                               or Instagram

                                                          to remember who you were

                                                   and maybe who you would come to be

                                                   because the attic of my mind

                                                          burned down to the ground

                                       and now there’s no more photos left of you

Self-Critical Frivolity

Posted in poetry with tags , , on June 3, 2017 by malartart

            who do you think you are?

(celebrities, family trees,

            vineyard, empty bottles

fallen apples , scrimping,


we’ve been together, maybe,

25 out of these 40 years?

knock-a-door run

               jumping gardens

Jehovah explained

                brandy snaps

and deodorant banned

             you think you know me?

got it all in hand and

              under control

                  out of my head

and now on paper

            in the circle I am known as M

does this aid others or cause confusion

                         later down the line?

Some Kinda Shame

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on July 26, 2016 by malartart


Loved in days of school

Heard walking the City today

An old flame on fire

Conditional desire, he says

Don’t come over here

Living near me

A better woman than seen

Would blame new crowds he’s in

But his partner ain’t new

Neither are the views

He’s been holding since turning 18

Fool me once shame on you

Fool me twice damn our time

And what he used to be

He thinks hate is the same

As opened eyes

Settling on an ideology

Well worn and outta date


As history creates new narratives

I hope in the future his past does become

A foreign country he can’t remember coming from

And the mirror crack’d shows a prismatic refection

Of the possibilities of possibilities of possibilities


And not the dot to dot colour by numbers

Arranged by the so called strength of his peers

       & Instead feels the start of

                                 a new wave 

                                        of a new part

                                                   on a new path

        Which comes from

                               the Showing of Some Kinda Shame



Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on May 25, 2016 by malartart

stationary and electric

stationary yet eclectic

parcels of pasta—bowties and turned up collars

                          Small bowls and Small talk

                                       Small paws—Snuck and Stuck

we (could) are (be) breeders

                           Let’s get (it) together some time

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