The Spot

Is not the spot for you

About Me

View About Me

Name: j. cajole

Age: Not specified

Location: sydney

 

Photo Gallery

 

Recent MMS Posts

 

Favourite Links

 

feedback

Help

 

Search

Go
 

Featured Links

 

Calendar

Previous March 2010 Next
SMTWTFS
  1 2 3 4 5 6
7 8 9 10 11 12 13
14 15 16 17 18 19 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31      
 

Blog Categories

 

My Communities

 

Recently Updated Blogs

EVOLUTION MYTH
22 mins ago

Bing's New Novel and other musings
1 hr 14 mins ago

The Master and His horseman
1 hr 56 mins ago

Design your Success
2 hrs 8 mins ago

Local Business
2 hrs 27 mins ago

view more

 

Blog Rating  (36 votes)    Rate this Blog  * Needs improving** Below average*** Good**** Recommended***** Excellent

Page 1

roll up

Wednesday 10 March, 2010 - 17:02 by j. cajole in Default

views (6) | rating ooooo (0 votes)

Roll up the sea and put it in my pocket.  Tell dark eyed Lucy with the sun bleached hair that her kisses burn like blue bottle stings and her sighs cut like razor sharp knives and her voice crinkles my heart like a breeze ripples the sea; and tell her to meet me by the fisherman’s hut in the hour when pelicans sleep and I’ll let her slide her hand in my pocket to feel the rising tide.

Permalink | Comments (0) | Leave a comment | Rate post * Needs improving** Below average*** Good**** Recommended***** Excellent

dumbock

Sunday 07 March, 2010 - 15:30 by j. cajole in Default

views (12) | rating ooooo (0 votes)

don't jump rope in the bath; it's silly.  so says the great dumbock: the god of square livers and overweight teeth.

Permalink | Comments (0) | Leave a comment | Rate post * Needs improving** Below average*** Good**** Recommended***** Excellent

a bad night

Sunday 24 January, 2010 - 18:34 by j. cajole in Default

views (15) | rating ooooo (0 votes)

A breeze dries my hide hanging on the bedroom door.

In the shower my soul sings and scrubs away its glue.

Over the toilet bowl my skeleton rattles hollow of its

marrow,

Dawn sleeps sickly pale under restless sheets.

The moon swirls anticlockwise down the sink.

The sun pries anxious against the window by the stairs.

The stars fall upon the carpet and wrestle with the fleas.

The night fills the empty bottles that crowd the kitchen

table.

My heart beats strong behind the freezer door.

Words snore in a pile on the floor.

And the air is stale and all is space without you. 

Permalink | Comments (0) | Leave a comment | Rate post * Needs improving** Below average*** Good**** Recommended***** Excellent

leathers

Wednesday 30 September, 2009 - 07:57 by j. cajole in Default

views (33) | rating ooooo (0 votes)

i hang in the closet, all sad and forlorn

The moon is knocking, but I'm waiting for dawn.. 

Permalink | Comments (0) | Leave a comment | Rate post * Needs improving** Below average*** Good**** Recommended***** Excellent

 

Page 1