The Ambush — a short story

I am afraid my poems will stiffen and tremble like the cats

which children stone to death on the outskirts of villages.

Federico Garcia Lorca¹

The local kids had been showering his roof with rocks late at night and banging on his front door…

Sex and Football

Sex is like football,

You reach your zenith

Your apogee

Aged twenty-six

And it’s all downhill from there

And although you may think about

Lacing up the boots

And pulling on a guernsey

Later in life

You’d only look ridiculous

And nobody will pay good money to…

list of things to do

write a list

write a poem

write an essay

write a suicide note

write to thank the cousins who sent a toy to your daughter six months ago

tell them it broke

write to your mother and give her your new address

but don’t move

write a letter to the paper complaining about the standard of letters they have been receiving

write to your local MP complaining about your local DJ

and vice versa

write to your priest or vicar or rabbi to tell them god is dead and that he’s stinking up your bathroom

write anonymously to the women you are secretly infatuated with about how they don’t interest you any more

and finally, write three things you like about yourself

- this one could take you most of the day.


A song



I’m in love


With a beautifulusion


Got my heart and soul


In confusion once again


But if I


Tell her I love her


Would she only tell me


She loves me as a friend



A poem

The Broken G Strings live at the Royal Tavern, Coolamon, NSW, Australia.

I broke my G string the night I met you

When my viola went too far

And bashed against your pale guitar.

I replaced it in a tick or two

I ain’t heard a further note from you.

You broke your G string the night I met you

When your viola went too far

And bashed against my pale guitar.

You replaced it in a tick or two

But I ain’t heard a further note from you.

Fake News! It’s a Hoax!

I wrote this last November and had it published in the local paper.

Photo Mark Wilson / Getty

So, Trump has contracted


I don’t understand.

How could it be?

It must be a lie!

It must be a hoax!

President Donald

Won’t give up the ghost.

And who is counting

The American dead

It’s a conspiracy theory

The Democrats spread.

He’ll win the election

Whilst healing in bed

Besides, we’ve got

Melania and Pence!




buy my soul

because I’m broke

and on the dole

I just want enough

to drink and smoke

too excess

until I croak

then I’m yours

for all time

please I need

some fags and wine


take it so that I may

waste my worthless life away

on two packs and a cask a day

Mephistopheles please

I can’t wait

Damn me now

I know my fate.


Who’d have thought? Mark E. Smith is dead. The frontman of The Fall, aged 60. I don’t care if normal people hated their music. Of course it was rough and proudly prolitarian. They were from Manchester, like The Smiths and Oasis, bands my 21 year old daughter loves. Go figure!

I saw them live twice in Christchurch, N.Z. They knew how to take the piss, and that’s all that counts.

The entire state of N.S.W. is in a seven day lockdown as of 5.00 pm yesterday. How was I to know? I listen to the classical music station.

I walked into town impervious of the new orders and bought two litres of cask Shiraz. Had I known I would have…

Cd Ross

Poet and writer in rural Australia. Don't let the bastards get you down.

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