tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60676822011-11-02T18:47:23.891+11:00Early drafts, ideas and poesy by some bloke.Glennnoreply@blogger.comBlogger781100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-28363742077645844342011-11-02T18:47:00.000+11:002011-11-02T18:47:24.014+11:00

So let's get down to it. Here it is. It's full of ideas, see. I can do this job. I'm proven. Dynamic. A hot creative. But really, let's stop flirting. I want this job now, Not for awards, Or to sell at the zeitgeist. I just want money. So one day soon, Somebody can call me Dad.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-37758147999038992892008-11-08T02:13:00.003+11:002008-11-08T11:13:58.849+11:00

Sleeping light breath,Under my chin to throat.I watch.Breath cool, slight mint.And at our toes, The Crystals sing,"There’s no other like my baby."

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-26839793451691151892008-10-24T17:48:00.001+11:002008-10-24T17:49:14.677+11:00

I'm heading for a fall soon so I'll have heaps of tedious stuff to post.Stay tuned.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-77781346889766612302008-05-05T01:11:00.001+10:002008-05-05T01:14:25.259+10:00

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-87886299115814064932007-10-05T02:28:00.000+10:002007-10-05T02:35:21.303+10:00

There comes a time in every man's life,Where he must TAKE A STAND.And after many nights listening,To the night becomeMorning.The man becomesChildTo regret.(draft)

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-79571509567028892792007-09-26T03:18:00.001+10:002007-09-26T03:29:34.797+10:00

Spring is on and wannabe lovers are taking risks.Fuck.That.I'm going to tear some shit uplike a vandal.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-54974751304785890282007-08-27T01:35:00.001+10:002007-08-27T01:35:54.769+10:00

I drove home tonight Without fearOr regard for safety.I got homesooner and sadder.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-13136713025936716672007-08-23T02:09:00.000+10:002007-08-23T02:10:51.709+10:00

How do you sleep at night? I'm scared you won't need me.What more could happen?I don't believe this.If only.You're just not listening.What's with that?You're obsessed.We need to have a talk.It's always my fault.It can only get worse from here.Look at the bright side.It's up to you.I never thought you were capable of this.You had to put the guilt trip on me.We bring out the worse in each

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-81056673660532385182007-07-16T02:34:00.000+10:002007-07-16T02:38:15.060+10:00

Do I got a chance with you? If I cut my hair and wear a shirt,If I run round blocks and do push ups,If I read big books and talk all nice,If I wake up early and run home late,Do I got a chance with you?Do I got a chance with you?If I wear plaid hats and dance in clubs,If I sleep on trains and avoid the bus,If I eat green beans and drink strange whites,If I play backgammon and avoid pub pool,Do I

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-83540519608090974502007-06-12T23:15:00.000+10:002007-06-12T23:21:37.774+10:00

I wish my friends were socks and I could throw them all out and start again.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-68239488977237821892007-05-31T23:41:00.000+10:002007-05-31T23:42:52.931+10:00

Take page from notebook. Write the word, hope on the page.Fold page to half the size of an apple.Sleep with the folded page inside your pillow case.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-80268030297546598212007-05-21T08:50:00.000+10:002007-05-21T08:53:27.661+10:00

He said it. Once. Twice. Too many never agains and this is it, once and for alls. “I’m going to quit this girl. She’s dumb as bat shit. I don’t care. I don’t care. I gotta quit this girl. She’s thick but fuck, she roots like fuck and wants to root all the time. I like that bit. I like that bit a lot.”But the thick young girl was a witch and she was going to drop him in the shit like you

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-26561819413852747552007-05-14T01:06:00.000+10:002007-05-14T01:10:25.560+10:00

by Judee Sill There's a rugged road on the prairieStretchin' all across the last frontierThere a stranger strives solitaryBlessed is the lonesome pioneerRoll on, roll on, roll onNight birds are flyin'Come on, the light is goneHope's slowly dyin'Tell me how you come ridin' throughStill surveyin' the miles yet to runOn the long and lonely road to kingdom comeHe can blaze a trail, though the

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-69794443644427972422007-05-09T17:13:00.000+10:002007-05-09T17:30:43.860+10:00

Hall wanders through as witness to so many middle urban calamities. Fights in pubs, domestic punch ups, cheating, begging, fist jobs, lovers, patsies, scoundrels, embezzlement and songs.So many songs where Hall goes to sleep praying to the songs in so many keys, words, meaningless words, in meaningless songs which make sense only after he's heard the song 100 more times because he shudders and

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-69533976046441216002007-03-17T14:35:00.000+11:002007-03-17T14:42:28.145+11:00

When driven by jealousy your car has a tendency to oversteer.You made your bed, now lie about it.It it goes unchecked, I may fall for her.On average, a man falls in love 17 times a day. A woman, however. Doesn't.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-33049017287508097482007-03-12T01:13:00.000+11:002007-03-12T01:49:02.401+11:00

About six years ago I found my girly a very old bracelet. This is its story."Where did I come from?" said the bracelet.The little sign in the shop next to the bracelet said something like Adriatic 3000 BC. Not a lot of information but enough for some research to take place. I rang some people. I visited some libraries. I did some work on the net.Didn't get too far at all until I received a

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-17111653034122237342007-02-28T01:46:00.000+11:002007-02-28T23:23:32.421+11:00

How do you tell if the person you're speaking to is on smack? Wait two or three minutes and they will tell you.It wasn't until our third night out when Amy told me her dad was a killer. We were walking down Lennox in Richmond, down fifty from The London when she told the story."First he killed the woman he was with at the time. I never liked her. She wouldn't talk to me on the phone when I

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-75086457185003420562007-02-28T01:26:00.000+11:002007-02-28T23:44:06.839+11:00

Another Friday night.I'm strutting through The Glen shopping centreListening, and I'm the only one in here doing this,Listening to Wire's Pink Flag record on the ipod.Did the same, listening to Wire on the walkman seventeen years ago.But tonight I'm uppityAnd pissed offWithThe Three Chord Rhumba.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1171209642830727752007-02-12T03:00:00.000+11:002007-05-14T22:51:40.801+10:00

I took her on the Geelong train to show how we do a night on the turps in Melbourne. A simple plan. We get picked up at the station, drop our shit back at me family house, meet some mates somewhere on the Glen Waverley line, off at Spencer Street and then to the Carron Tavern. The BeeHive. A night of the coolest back then 60’s stuff dj’ed by public radio “celeb”, DJ. So fucking cool the

Glennnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1169827780216625852007-01-27T03:09:00.000+11:002007-01-27T03:09:40.640+11:00

I ride this night, From Darley Street, Into headwind.Past Bellbird Cresent, With rain in my eyes,Crossing the creek by Tora Place. Jeans soaked heavy,Through Warrinda Way, Waterfall Avenue, Singing loud.Down Starkey Street’s big hill, Breathless,To Killarney Heights.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1165932856400240602006-12-13T01:14:00.000+11:002006-12-13T01:16:05.063+11:00

I have a friend and we talk about football, other sports and our families but mainly we talk about the Collingwood Football Club. I have another and we talk about music and the movies, but there’s not a movie we agree. Another friend and I talk about books, laugh and pun about our bedraggled lives. One friend and I, together we see music’s little things and share our contempt for grown ups.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1164638284435509382006-11-28T01:38:00.000+11:002006-11-28T01:38:04.443+11:00

Sharks swimming in their own spit,With their mighty come-ons and hairy touch,They look up and down,And comment.Loving the game and pissing on the meek,Who wouldn't love their attention?

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1164637425283237462006-11-28T01:23:00.000+11:002006-11-28T02:37:11.676+11:00

"You write? What books? Magazines? Poetry?""Yes.""Once I wrote a poem and read it to a mate who said he’d heard it before and I must have stolen it from a magazine or something so I threw it out. I must have heard it before and now I don’t remember any bit of it. I’d been on the cones, sitting with me old farm dog, Rhett here, good dog I think he likes you, and was looking into the sky and

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1164117250325966802006-11-22T00:41:00.000+11:002006-11-22T00:54:10.343+11:00

Here's lyrics to a beautiful piece which appears on his 1975 album, Another Green World.I'll Come RunningBrian EnoI'll find a place somewhere in the corner,I'm gonna waste the rest of my days,Just watching patiently from the window,Just waiting, seasons change, some day, oh oh,My dreams will pull you through that garden gate,I want to be the wandering sailor,We're silhouettes by the light of the

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1162902461906066562006-11-07T23:27:00.000+11:002006-11-08T23:41:54.680+11:00

You'vegoneanddoneitagainhaven'tyou.Timeandtimeagainyouneverlearn.You'veonlygotyourselftoblame.But no!My maladies are biscuits. I like to split themand lick off the cream.You'rejustsayingthat.Nowgotoyourroom.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1161616981959217442006-10-24T01:23:00.000+10:002006-10-24T01:23:02.010+10:00

The pen scratches.A sharp scream, the page turning.Exact steps sliding.Long breaths.Light rationed.Tinitus always.Mind on fire.Anon.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1156518120527032422006-08-26T00:49:00.000+10:002006-08-26T01:08:26.423+10:00

Near The Taxi RankPissed slightly on hip flask muck,He rides the skateboard awkwardly.His boots thunk the deck and only she,In the ripped black jumper,Dark make up and scratched nails,Swoons whenThe board skidsSo hot.Platform 3New tatts so hip and rocking on her insteps.They itch and he's seen nothing so fucking cool.Platform 10The black converse work every time on her,And even on him.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1156156831568769592006-08-21T20:40:00.000+10:002006-08-21T20:40:32.156+10:00

Fibs open like petals to the morning,You don't need to show me the bulb.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1153925512668016332006-07-27T00:51:00.000+10:002006-07-27T00:57:39.083+10:00

Without knowing she held the beer into the bar light.Long fingers crisp.I shiver.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1152953730752023632006-07-15T18:45:00.000+10:002006-07-16T02:30:30.420+10:00

Hey kids! Here's a little writing game. Write yourself a real short story starting with the sentence, “The rest as they say, is history,” and ending with, “My mother sat in the chair where she first saw the snake. My father lit a cigar.“Here's what I came up with sometime last year....“The rest as they say, is history.” And with that the screen switched to yet another fricken student film.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1151559440871188962006-06-29T15:20:00.000+10:002006-06-29T15:42:59.146+10:00

715 It's raining. Poofs are still complaining about Zoolander for not showing respect etc.716 Zoolander claims he taught David how to catch so he can play games with the rest. That's right he taught him how to catch.718 Poofs comparing fragrances. Poofs really like this perfume task. Zoolander likes it more but.723 Housemates get together to sort out their differences. Zoolander reckons

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1149698651023826882006-06-08T02:43:00.000+10:002006-06-08T02:44:11.023+10:00

Can you be blinded by the moon?It's only light reflected from the sun.Can you be blinded by the stars?They are their own light.Why look up?Why be blinded on such a cold cold night?Seems tragic, magic,Or only sick,To think of the night.Moon please blind me,Don't blame the sun.Stars,Please do more,Than sit,And think of the night,Warm by you.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1149697995180961802006-06-08T02:30:00.000+10:002006-06-08T02:34:06.450+10:00

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Dusk At Fawkner Park, originally uploaded by glennpeters. Enough said.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1149486264350780822006-06-05T15:36:00.000+10:002006-06-05T15:44:24.366+10:00

How predictable am I to reprint this today?Unhappy Anniversaryby Loudon Wainwright Unhappy AnniversaryIt's one year since we splitI walk and talk and get aroundLie down, stand up, and sitI eat and drink and smoke and sing andLive a little bitUnhappy AnniversaryIt's one year since we splitUnhappy AnniversaryIt's ten years since we metThere is no need to remind meNo way I could forgetWe fell in

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1148189486238995412006-05-21T15:30:00.000+10:002006-05-21T15:31:26.246+10:00

Pretty good name for a song innit?

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1147874391289791862006-05-17T23:59:00.000+10:002006-05-17T23:59:51.333+10:00

"I didn't want to distract myself. I knew I had to sit and just feel terrible and just feel terrible and just feel terrible. And I knew I had to do that. And I think it's been valuable to just sit and feel terrible." Merridy O'Donnell tells Four Corners what she did to deal with her 17 year old son, Campbell's suicide.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1147788055347593322006-05-16T23:51:00.000+10:002006-07-27T01:39:38.450+10:00

She's funnier than any bunch of mates I've been to the footy with.All of them put together.Go Pies.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1147274712703875982006-05-11T01:23:00.000+10:002006-05-11T01:25:12.720+10:00

Americans spell grey with an A to make it look less so.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1146753159352299792006-05-05T00:02:00.000+10:002006-05-05T00:36:28.200+10:00

Heatwave was written by Motown's superhit songwriting team of Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Edward Holland Jr. It was originally recorded by The Supremes but was a huge hit for Martha & The Vandellas. I much prefer The Supremes' version.No matter how many times I listen to it, this song stirs me incredibly, especially the, "Sometimes I stare in space, tears all over my face," bit.Yes, this

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1144304376140847212006-04-06T16:19:00.000+10:002006-04-06T16:19:36.153+10:00

"But most of what Iceland’s got is bundles of weather. This isn’t anything as benignly balmy as a climate: this is weather that is like living with a giant psychopathic bouncer, weather of heroic, mythic proportions. The air around you is a sensate physical presence on a mission. For nine months of the year, outside the clattering windows stalks a man-killer that wants your guts for Popsicles.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1144083135937015272006-04-04T02:40:00.000+10:002006-04-07T01:08:18.020+10:00

It's a little ditty I recorded a couple of months ago. The lead acoustic guitar break, vocal performance and bedroom studio recording are all astounding.Listen to it here.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1143779414208313942006-03-31T15:26:00.000+11:002006-04-02T23:30:08.456+10:00

"Turkey buzzards drifted in a milky sky. The metallic din of crickets made the heat seem worse. Banana leaves hung in limp ribbons. There was no wind." Bruce Chatwin from his novella, The Viceroy of Ouidah.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1143300584862429532006-03-26T02:29:00.000+11:002006-03-26T02:29:44.916+11:00

Dilemmas are insects.I'd spray them butI kinda like the buzz.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1143040270864926352006-03-23T02:03:00.000+11:002006-03-23T21:36:07.546+11:00

Mission StatementTo provide bugger all infrastructure, amenities of social and educational relevance to clients from Melbourne's inner and outer communities.Curated by Paul Grabowsky, Rachel Griffiths and Franco Cozzo, it's a celebration of our city with DJ's, street theatre, buskers™, coffee, street art, cold architecture, underrepresented world music, dagwood dogs, fully ticketed football,

Glennnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1142941593582329522006-03-21T22:30:00.000+11:002006-04-09T01:23:02.273+10:00

Somewhere there's a place for us. Somewhere there's a place for us.She wanted so much to get that job in the office. ADMINISTRATIVE GURU read the advertisement. The perfect job.I wish to apply for the administrative guru position as advertised in The Age on Saturday June 12.It was no longer enough to be merely an administrative wiz or an administrative expert. She had to upsize her talents.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1142525543278371492006-03-17T03:12:00.000+11:002006-03-17T14:21:20.723+11:00

See that chick over there? She's one of the hottest chicks in Port Melbourne, the bitch.I was talking to another chick who I had already been with, you know I was finished with her, and that bitch over there with the dog comes right up to me and kisses me on the cheek. Next time I see her I'm here with my Dad, fishing and she pretends not to know me.I know her yeah, I know her. I remember all of

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1141831570475333822006-03-09T02:26:00.000+11:002006-03-10T03:10:31.590+11:00

Without doubt,A headache won'tCelebrate its leaving.Neither does a heartacheCelebrate the evening.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1141221122073882752006-03-02T00:46:00.000+11:002006-03-02T00:52:47.743+11:00

"I am Charles Mingus. half black man, yellow man - half yellow- not even yellow, nor white enough to pass for nothing but black and not too light enough to be called white. I claim that I am a Negro. I am Charles Mingus- to me I am nothing. I am Charles Mingus, a famed jazz musician but not famed enough to make a living in society, that is in America, my home. I cannot even support my

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1141220126827846992006-03-02T00:31:00.000+11:002006-03-02T00:35:26.840+11:00

"I never realised there were so many places to go and yet so few places to stop and relax." Charles Mingus from his 1971 autobiography, Beneath The Underdog.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1140645601361786572006-02-23T08:53:00.000+11:002006-02-23T09:00:54.870+11:00

Shut blue eyes,The noise between,Peace and silence.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1139494808282633592006-02-10T01:20:00.000+11:002006-02-11T12:32:07.586+11:00

I know it.I know that perfume.I think you get it at The Body Shop.Sometimes it walks by me,On a city street.It reminds me of loud fucking,With windows open to the moonlight.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1137169650567250832006-01-14T03:27:00.000+11:002006-02-10T01:31:20.590+11:00

The birds sang because they were leaving in the morning.The lights went orange before they died.And the wind blew into the stars.And the wind blew into the stars.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1135615524321949982005-12-27T03:45:00.000+11:002005-12-27T03:45:24.350+11:00

Please God, let me hate.Let me hate and plot in good faith.Let me plan vengeance and fire,For I promise to target only those on the fringes,We know you only help those who pray,And for that I thank you.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1135263443389814342005-12-23T01:57:00.000+11:002005-12-23T02:00:31.673+11:00

And she saiddon't you worrythere's plenty more fish in the sea.And I fishand I fishand I never catch nothing.And I saidbut I do worryyou were my only porpoise.And I fishand I fishand I never catch nothing.Check the bait.Not even a nibble.And I fishand I fishand I never catch nothing.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1135090866957284642005-12-21T02:01:00.000+11:002006-03-10T14:18:58.033+11:00

Lucky I don't gambleBecauseI'm the most unluckyMan alive.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1132674808616551212005-11-23T02:53:00.000+11:002005-11-23T03:01:01.723+11:00

Grimy, tanned and wearing a FUBU wind jacket. Very low St Kilda. "I'm 44 and haven't worked for over three years. I used to work at Fawkner Cemetery. I was a landscape gardener.""Yeah, I dug graves. What do YOU reckon?"He didn't look 44."I got a redundancy. You know what a redundancy is? Now I go fishing. What else is there to do?"The two fish in his bucket were drastically undersized.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1131976868042556612005-11-15T01:01:00.000+11:002005-11-23T02:59:06.230+11:00

Welcome Home by Spike MilliganUnaware of my crime they stood me in the dock.I was sentenced to life.... without her.Strange trial. No Judge. No Jury.I wonder who my visitors will be.From Spike's 1979 collection, Open Heart University.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1130163676727177512005-10-25T00:21:00.000+10:002005-10-25T00:28:25.680+10:00

I'm so tired. I had a big night at Tommy from Leigh's band's party on Wednesday night. There was this guy there who kept following me around all night.He wouldn't stop touching me. My shoulders. My hips. His fucking slimy paws all over me.I really wish I didn't wear that skirt.He wouldn't take a hint and I got really sick of it so I told him - if you don't get out of my space I'm going to

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1129091308202639182005-10-12T14:26:00.000+10:002006-02-11T12:31:32.990+11:00

The sunny day’s laugh grates like showbiz conversation.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1128526644203323732005-10-06T01:37:00.000+10:002005-10-06T01:40:20.096+10:00

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } blowing bubbles, originally uploaded by mrfink. Photo taken earlier this year in Mozambique by good friend and World Vison bloke, Adam Valvasori.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1127832499596510462005-09-28T00:48:00.000+10:002005-09-28T00:48:21.183+10:00

It's got so bad,You're making me want,To hate,John Lennon.Loving is living,Living love.It's got so bad,You're hurting me so,By doing,Nothing.Love is needing,To be loved.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1125936776031523242005-09-06T02:04:00.000+10:002005-09-06T02:12:56.036+10:00

Arse of myself? Who recites poetry? Who do I think I am? Stephen Friggin' Fry?The Red WheelbarrowWilliam Carlos Williamsso much depends upon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rainwater beside the whitechickens.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1125627546683511442005-09-02T12:16:00.000+10:002005-09-02T12:19:06.686+10:00

"Triangles make me stronger" the bridge boasted to the amoeba."But you are me now," the amoeba replied."No I'm not.""You always were."

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1124982916107394522005-08-26T01:15:00.000+10:002005-08-26T01:15:18.043+10:00

And I read somewhere that The Who live in Leeds.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1124810352941481372005-08-24T01:19:00.000+10:002005-10-12T14:31:24.430+10:00

Running out of patience.Running out of timeRunning out of petrol.Running out on time.Running out of you.Running out on me.Running out.Running out of ideas.Running out on me.Running out of me.Running out.Running.Out.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1121911503333808312005-07-21T12:05:00.000+10:002006-04-19T01:09:30.580+10:00

She was as pretty as a D-Chord. But like the note she was played only when he had nothing better to do.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1119968245620303812005-06-29T00:17:00.000+10:002005-06-29T00:17:54.486+10:00

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Collins St, 5pm. John Brack, originally uploaded by glennpeters.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1119953369465706322005-06-28T20:09:00.000+10:002005-06-28T20:10:50.026+10:00

Holmesglen?Come home, Glenn.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1119636266244574522005-06-25T04:04:00.000+10:002005-06-25T04:04:26.310+10:00

That's what he said,He was always right,Jasmine smells best, At night.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1119293175921589112005-06-21T04:46:00.000+10:002005-06-21T04:48:41.303+10:00

The seventh doze off was peeved by the thought I lost her completely. Check what's on.A music clip.A song she loves.Does that mean anything or is it just mean?

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1119292143887160632005-06-21T04:29:00.000+10:002005-06-21T04:29:03.923+10:00

If you really wanted to win lotto, you would be trying a lot harder.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1118805606950078682005-06-15T13:20:00.000+10:002005-06-15T13:20:06.990+10:00

There's nothing nice about prison except that it makes you stop running.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1118761670783885782005-06-15T01:07:00.000+10:002005-06-15T01:07:50.786+10:00

Hall was stuck holding up the Totem Pole. The pole faces were stern kitsch. Not hip kitsch. More hop kotsch, screaming, playful Martin Denny camp and as dangerous as a street juggler's autistic minder. "You're either with us or against us!" cried the pole faces."What? You want me to join you freaks?""You must. You're one of us."Hank Williams' Kawliga and Tennessee Williams' Mitch squeezed

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1118761377197759382005-06-15T01:02:00.000+10:002005-06-15T01:02:57.200+10:00

Sweat and fat. Ash tipping while you cut the tomato. I said I wanted garlic sauce. Why do you ask me again? What do you think I am. One of those guys who wants the chicken with no onions, no sauce and could you please cut that in half? I want it normal. I'm really drunk and a little bit stoned but I'm not your bunny. I gave you a twenty, now I expect change. Where is everybody?

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1118760849620231582005-06-15T00:54:00.000+10:002005-06-15T00:56:55.430+10:00

Take page from notebook. Write the word, hope on the page.Fold page to half the size of an apple.Sleep with page inside your pillow case.

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1118732221750315712005-06-14T16:53:00.000+10:002005-06-25T04:51:38.666+10:00

It was a long weekend. Longer without Pretty.Saturday morning I woke up with a bad back. I said to the bad back, "I can't remember bringing you home last night."Bad back said, "But you did, Sir. But you did."I went to the city. Bad Back insisted on coming.Went to a party. Didn't see Pretty there for the first half hour. Everybody was awkward and wanted to talk about 'football' with me.They

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1103002943400912852004-12-14T16:42:00.000+11:002004-12-14T16:42:23.400+11:00

Caught up with a mate who works with my most previous next door neighbor. Turns out the bloke who moved into my house in Collingwood when I left was the infamous gangster, author and funny-man, Mark Brandon 'Chopper' Read. When I lived there, Chopper only lived in the next street. I would see him regularly at the local milkbar or sitting outside his fave pub, The Leinster Arms.There is an

Glennnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6067682.post-1102398770844933522004-12-07T16:52:00.000+11:002004-12-08T11:36:10.540+11:00

Australian Idol's Casey Donovan's single made it to number one in the charts in its first week. Whoopee! But the real problem is that only a bit over 35,000 copies were sold compared to the 100,000-ish sold last year in the first week by Guy Sebastian. Here's why. The song, "Listen With Your Heart" is pure scrotum. Its writer, Diane Warren was responsible for Milli Vanilli's Blame it on the

Glennnoreply@blogger.com0