St Kilda Village StripFest

Pillow Talk poems


To hear these poems read aloud, go to our soundcloud account

Marie by Miguel Jacq
tonight, in spite of savoury-tooth
tigers you’ll rise,
mesmerise, flourless
mess with a heated heart
and start to, on all sides,
divide and conquer
until your ‘let them eat it’ main course
is w h i s k e d a w a y
by an army of fan-forced petit-fours

by Craig
August, winter,
Beautiful St Kilda
Acland Street
There’s nothing so sweet
A piece of cake, or maybe four
Can’t resist – my eyes just say ‘more’.
A comfy bed, a chance to sleep in,
Up around 10, then off to the gym.

by Rossi
The cake crumbs
On your pillow,
Revealing more
Than all the courses
From the menus
Of your life,
Could ever dare.

by Berry Margera

Three little cupcakes sitting in a row.

All look so tasty I must give one a go.

Light little fluffy things with cheery’s on top.

Just a few little nibbles that’s not a lot.

One says Eat Me & the other said No No Please Don’t.

But I’m a greedy sort a scoffed down the lot.

by Sayraphim Lothian
And dreaming
Chocolate cake

by Mezza
Let me hypnotise you, oh Weary One
And I will whip you up a delicious dream
Souffléed in creamy sponge
Hinted kisses in layers of cinnamon
Floating in heavenly chocolate sauce
Soporific strawberries as heavy laden as your eyes
You’re drowsy now
The tart of apples
Delish in crumble
Beckons for you my wish of a slumber long and sweet

Sugar For Breakfast by Alicia Sometimes
Nougat, pecan, boysenberry, plum.
Every year is measured out in cheesecake.
Birthdays are wider to accommodate the candles.
Dripped out in sweet treacle of conversation.
The icing is just getting to devour it.
Chocolate Kugelhoupf has ignited dalliances.
With cake’s absence, marriages buckle.
This is a foodstuff to change postcodes for.
Cake is a magnet that sticks to my hips.
Pretty please, with eight cherries on top.


The World as Cake by Rafael S.W
Winter frosted the lawns with unintentional grace
but was stood on anyway, piping of shoelaces.

Kids, hard as shells, threw eggs at houses
brittle and yolksmear, it’s a kind of freedom.

On every $5 note, there is a fraction of cocaine.
Sticky fingers, don’t even need to look for sugar.

Somewhere, surely, still has milk delivered.
It snows, and the flour turns its head to the sun.

Black Forest by Rafael S.W
A body imported. Sweet-snatching
glacee-cheeked convict, you sit
all decked out in judges wigs
puffs and tufts, the cream
was given thirty lashings
but licking your wounds
was never so sweet.

by Greta
I am not there with you on your bed but I am
These words are here now & I am somewhere
Keeping these words between you and me
I will bake you a cake like a love letter
Mix these words and warm them and cover them in butter and sugar
Delicately press my fingers into them and work them
Fold secrets into them for you to keep warm
A love letter to your mind as you devour these words
A love letter to you and me
To be devoured and savoured and forgotten

by Craig
Said one cake shop owner to another
‘I travelled the world when I was younger
I searched for cakes with mild obsession
For I knew that baking would become my profession
London, Paris, Berlin and Moscow
Boston, New York, L.A, down to Rio
A place may claim for this or for that
But let me tell you – Acland Street is where it’s at.’

by Megastar

by Shelley Stocken
The differences don’t matter;
Whether meaningful or mild;
Whether Gemini or Taurus,
Tucked away or placed before us.
What’s important is the chorus that we make.

Consider cows and chickens.
Can such beasts be reconciled?
Hoof and horn and stubborn leather;
Claw and beak and speckled feather;
But their goods, when stirred together, make a cake.

by Karina Quinn
That glaze, the way it drips
and licks at mousse and sponge;
no room for air, gold laced,
aching onto the plate.
You break into it, silver tines
turned to spears, chocolate as dark
as the night, catching at the corners
of your mouth, sugar laced,
smoother than skin. Spear, eat,
glistening bliss. We kiss.

by Rossi
She never leaves me all alone in cafes,
Always there for me,
To share a sip.
Skilfully she listens,
Letting me do all the talk.
She fills me with her essence,
Bewitching, as she sits in her perfection.
Of herself, she gives her all,
Expecting nothing in return,
Love that she’s my bestie, Chocolate Cake.

by Lauren Cruickshank
There’s a sweet morsel


An unwrapped goodness


Lonely last slice to be sold empty


Taste tempting the discerning customer

(looking like you on I’m-Allowed-To-Have-Treats-Friday)

A sugar crazed gleam in your wandering eye


by Berry Margera
The soft sweet touch
Warm wet as I slowly lick
My breathing is fast & short
I put my fingers in
Forbidden sweet pleasure
I lick my wet lips
I want more,  more,  more
Faster, faster
I wisk, I bake & watch it rise
Eat my sensual cake

by Cinnamon Lane
Life is like a chocolate cake,
You get exactly what you make.
Some prefer the top or side,
The icing or the cream inside
You take a bite, before too long,
In a flash, the whole cake’s gone!
So savour every taste and you –
Can have your cake and eat it too.
Now sleep like sleeping fairies do.

by Cinnamon Lane
T’was midnight when I heard a creak.
Unlike I’ve ever heard before.
Footsteps down the hallway – eek!
I tried to wake my husband – snore!
I rose to look and saw a light.
The open fridge gave me a fright!
The cake I’d baked marred with a bite!
I forgot my son was staying the night.

To hear these poems read aloud, go to our soundcloud account.

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