sqoggle

carly

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coversations with God -goodbye by sqoggle, literature

Literature

coversations with God -goodbye

I phoned God to ask him to stop the clock at 11:59 pm So I could put a hold on tomorrow, at least for a few days So I could put off saying goodbye to you. God has become an automated service A franchised McReligious service 'Thankyou for calling God's hotline', the generic, exploited voiceover said. 'For sin confession press six six six, to admit to adultery press six nine, to support God's program to lower the divorce rate, press seven, for born again Christians, press feeling alive five, to remind yourself of the ten commandments press one zero, and for all other queries, please hold the line, God or one of his representatives

begin by sqoggle, literature

Literature

begin

1:36 am, but it's not a booty call you know why you're here i know why you're here but they may be different reasons you're gorgeous. we sit around, drinking, and listening to paul kelly, killing time nervously, eagerly i've forgotten how to have a conversation you can't wait to touch me and i do my best to make you fall in love with me i want us to begin. what's the point in getting too attached? in two weeks, i'll probably be nursing a broken heart to the wallows of sinead o'connor the kiss goodbye was to keep me interested, you say or was it just to say goodbye?

perceptions by sqoggle, literature

Literature

perceptions

it's alright for you to ask if i'm sunburnt and apologising makes you a better person by miles. don't worry about the fact that you bluntly reminded me of my ignorance to sunscreen. your tone of voice was fine. i understand that you couldn't possibly consider genetics as having a hand in my circumstance. it's ok for you, being a stranger to me, to suggest the latest herbal remedy over my prescribed treatment, especially when you're puffing on five cigarettes an hour. at least i got a laugh when you compared my medical condition to you having your routine eyebrow wax. i'll forgive you for bringing your family to the door of a chinese

rearranging the stars by sqoggle, literature

Literature

rearranging the stars

you were on a ladder rearranging the stars to read 'sorry my princess'. those words discretely snuck in the back door of your vocabulary after they contemplated life for a while on a surfing trip to Byron Bay. they left when you decided you didn't love me anymore, and were replaced with seductions dressed up as day time soapie characters. i was exploring the world's concerning issues, like which reality tv participant i'd most like to invite to a dinner party if i was also inviting my favourite Neighbours actor turned pop starlet, when i realised i don't need you anymore. i was on a ladder, rearranging your arrangement of the stars t

icecream for broken hearts by sqoggle, literature

Literature

icecream for broken hearts

love became definite when you finished the meat off my unwanted chicken bones. though we did discuss it's ok, as it's not as though our lips hadn't touched. our weave was loose and lazy, reluctant for repair, how could it be any other way when the extent of your five year plan was to go to the wrestling in 2009? but now, private tears flow so much that i consider installing a swimming pool, and a forced smile stretched bed sheet-tight by fishhooks gone astray - only convincing for inexperienced housewives and fishers with wayward aims. i didn't know that an icecream flavour has not yet been designed for consoling broken hearts. a

Dreamboat by sqoggle, literature

Literature

Dreamboat

dreamboat, sail my dream to me rock to the rhythm of reggae and row to the rhyme of the ballad. my cargo has a long way to travel there's a reason for my impatience for my love spares nor spends time. there's dreaming in my days, for i count the days, now weeks, soon months since we last… i hear the crash of your caress on my skin, and the float of your charm as you deeply reeled me in. dreamboat, on your voyage, did you find a message in a bottle, or one written on the shore? did it read 'i'm sorry to make you wait my love, i know i told you soon, i'm coming to hold you, love, for you i'd chase the moon'? there's dreaming

Your priorities... by sqoggle, literature

Literature

Your priorities...

i wanted to make love to you this morning, or fucking, as we do so infrequently these days. you said you had too much to do to consider sex of course, i said. yourself is where your priorities lie. and i think about which pair of panty hose would be the best to hang myself with, then i decide it's best i don't, as i won't be able to find any testimonial about the pain, and hosiery's so damn expensive. and you wouldn't make it for my funeral anyway, you'd have to paint the house, or attend to some excuse, same old story. i fall over your issues. you're always busy when i'm concerned. i think of the right time to tell you it's ove

Reasons, not excuses by sqoggle, literature

Literature

Reasons, not excuses

I wrote your latest excuse on a piece of tired ribbon, and added it to the tail of other frayed satin excuses on the stalling workhorse. 'They're not excuses' you say. 'Believe what you want'. 'Reasons then', I say, 'But when there's enough reasons, they soon turn into excuses'. You're up to number seventeen now, and you say you aren't avoiding me. The tail of the stalling workhorse has enough ribbons now to become a kite.

Eucalytpus love by sqoggle, literature

Consumerism... by sqoggle, literature

Literature

Consumerism...

Consumerism, it happens to the best of us heightened individuality - perhaps also a spider infestation - woven into his dreadlocks, he had a hand-sewn dinosaur tail hanging from the belt of his leathers without a damn, walked into Starbucks. it didn't bother him that his buttocks had an artificial extension, filled with polystyrene beans, and surprisingly, it didn't bother him to be walking into such a generic, commercial mediocrity. he probably studies sculpture and creates death metal rats: Ozzy Ratbourne, Sliprat, made of chicken wire, papier mache, safety pins, leather and tartan, and paints their tongues with the blood

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better than Disneyland by sqoggle, literature

media revolution by sqoggle, literature

blue by sqoggle, literature

full circle by sqoggle, literature

last time by sqoggle, literature

this one's never been titled by sqoggle, literature

reality tv by sqoggle, literature

Lolita in the grass by sqoggle, literature

Trust is fragile by sqoggle, literature

Yvette by sqoggle, literature

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Wetting My Whistle by mmmpoptart, literature

Temporary Lines by choke-on-this, literature

Literature

Temporary Lines

We sit so our bodies touch, fingers laced like ribbons A room silent and still, hushed with early morning darkness. Trace our initials through condensation- these temporary lines reflect our lives and the opaque glass mists over once again. We whisper toxic lullabies as we drift in and out of this state of false-awakenings. Our breath escapes us, forms to figures lingering overhead, listening to our lucid lyrics. I want to catch this moment, outrun time Yet only static reception burns in our ears now, distorts your words. You always did look prettier when you smiled. So many things I want to say (sorry. thanks. i...) I wan

.how it is. by choke-on-this, literature

Literature

.how it is.

the earth where our feet stood- frozen, blurred, (spring is frostbitten summer and i can taste the whiskey) words as raw as the crisp air our breath peirced when it snowed in april. we're hurting ourselves with the feeling of pretending i'm in love or a year and a half of lies (530 days and counting) never have i felt so helpless. (i recall when secrets were secret) but my sins can't be redeemed through 9,999 false religious sects ("we know we are the chosen ones") even Jesus Christ himself couldn't justify my death a day or seeing a grown man cry with a collapse, carpet stained with blood and sweat (fluids of a final at

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Bravery by sqoggle, literature

Literature

Bravery

If my bravery was transferable Then one day you might have my name And it would be sewn onto your arm With a permanent thread As midnight leaves home And is replaced by the early hours You feel so good in my mind We're so good in my mind I imagine you're getting More than a big ego from my flattery And I know that I'm getting crumpled Feelings of rejection from your inaction Do you miss me like you miss the Postage stamp you fixed onto the Envelope sent to cancel your Unwanted magazine subscription, Or like the coin you just used to Rent your shopping trolley? Our existence is made up of repetitive, Electronic well wish

Bravery

sqoggle

About sqoggle

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Artist // Literature

Australia
Deviant for 20 years
sqoggle8.blogsome.com
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Melbourne, Australia
Favourite genre of music: Dandy Warhols, Dido, INXS, Crowded House, Nirvana, Powderfinger, John Butler, Muse, Jet...

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

silverchair, eskimo joe, genevieve maynard, missy higgins, darren hayes, placebo, U2, Screaming Jets

Tools of the Trade

pen, journal, observation, imagination

Other Interests

writing, cooking, shopping, jewellery making

Posts

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sqoggle

May 16, 2005

award nomination

0 min read

Ooh someone has nominated my poem, rearranging the stars (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/18334499/), for an award at http://thebambooawards.deviantart.com/. Yay!

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sqoggle

Apr 25, 2005

it's going to be ok

0 min read

I'm surprised at myself at how well I am dealing with my break up.  It's been almost 14 days to the minute now that he told me he doesn't love me anymore, that he hasn't for some time, and that he has been taking advantage of me.  His words were cold, he was calm, and what he said shattered me into a thousand pieces.  I truly thought that I couldn't go on.  I felt so hurt, so used.  So discarded. After a shopping trip a few days later, I began to feel a bit better.  And I have not been very upset since.  Been writing heaps, keeping busy by jewellery making, been reading brilliant poetry by foreign writers (translations make them seem all the

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sqoggle

Mar 28, 2005

Paul Hester

0 min read

Today I found out Paul Hester from Crowded House died on the weekend.  He took his own life in a Melbourne park. Like many bands from the 80s and early 90s (U2, Inxs, Screaming Jets, Hoodoo Gurus, Hunters and Collectors, Nirvana..), I only recently got into Crowded House, maybe in the late 90s.  Their lyrics have inspired me no end. My favourite Crowded House song, When You Come. "when you come across the sea me like a beacon guiding you to safety the sooner the better now and when you come the hills will breathe like a baby pulled up heaving from the bottom of the ocean the sooner the better now when you come to cover me with your