the smugma identity

pink sky at night
a bungholes delight
pink t-shirts in the Prince of Wales
a bungholes delight

the vineyard was pumping
the public toilet was overflowing
acland street has humming
cafes spewing out people on the street

rugby on the telly in the pub
a pub that may or may not be a bugger joint
disappearing houses on forknerd st
maybe it's better that way

there's a gay time to be had
that much is for sure
basta with the camping
affectation is neither endearing or enduring
not that a toss would be heaved this way

ridiculous overgrown tennis balls
reaching for the sky
hedge trimmers are for the anally retentive, aren't they?
whipper snipper that sly minx into shape
if only he had met any

that universe that pulsates
are the smiles real ?
what is it that they know ?
they might share it if they were minded to
rest the toast of the ghost
he can't be happy at what goes on
a picnic
a social occasion
a small lady
a big sin
a rollicking pin
a chicken bin

horizons narrowing
minds lashed closed
unfortunate coincidences
sleight sights of hands
hiding whispered doubts
what did they say ?
did said pills pay the bills ?
violent reactions
innocuous remarks
what is possibly to fear ?
sputt in the face
damaged goods in shopfront window
a stolen glance
demanding to be returned
perspective in imminent danger
prospective sails off horizon bound
bleak is the new black
why did he scamper ?
just like the american soldier on iwo jima
flamin