Saturday, 26 May 2007

a successful conversation with a teenager

m= muse t= teenager

m... what would you do if there was no electricity?
t... well that wouldn't happen. Would it?
m... one day, I think it will. Imagine.
t... sigh, ummm

(I interupt like a know it all)

m... no itunes, no westfield, no tv, no myspace
t... well I'd have to kill myself then.

( I detect a healthy sarcasm)

m... you know what?
t... no
m... I'm going to take you camping
t... OK
m... OK

Friday, 25 May 2007

you left some feathers behind

Above my head
there are cloud lips.
Below my feet
there are cobble green eyes.
And Llankelly Place
is a stretched out arm
with the touch of a black cockatoo.

Monday, 21 May 2007

scribbled on a ticket december 03

Don't define love
show love
a definition is a substitute
for the real thing.

It's like being stranded
half out of life.
And the language,
it's beauty, imprisons us,
holds us servant to words
To sneer and crack
and crack again..........
and still never get the meaning.

Tuesday, 15 May 2007

Old World Charm

Picture this.....

7pm mid May 2007
Kings Cross Sydney.
3 plastic tables cluster about a struggling fern or two
in an open courtyard.
The sign on the double glass sliding door says
"dine in the elegant dining room
or perhaps outside in the beautiful
tropical garden setting" .....
I turn to look at the plastic tables.

Through the doors a bar is dimly lit
and splashed by a blue cristmas decoration
lazing on the benchtop.
It sparkles off the Cointreau.
12 empty tables spread out perfectly to the right
bordered by a deep violet curtain.
I'm glad I've worn my velvet jacket.

Chandeliers hang overhead
like a crystal jigsaw puzzle.
Statuettes sprout lights and trumpets.

My sweetheart (the master inventor .... Inventoria) and I
decide to partake of a cocktail before dinner ....
Two margueritas please.
They are promptly made without fuss or flare.
No tricks or twirling bottles.
No plates for change.
With salty lips we wonder where the world went.

The chef steps out of the kitchen,
wanders past us and says hello.
Dean Martin and Ole Blue Eyes
swan about the room as we order another one each please.
The world outside is distinctly remote.....
What magic is this m'dear?

We escort ourselves to our table and menus arrive
What! ....check it out .... no, it can't be true ....
But yes ....there it is .....$3 entrees
Mussells on the half shell ..... Eggplant and relish
Angel hair pasta.....and of course prawn cocktails.
Inventoria orders three because they are such good value.
I stick to one. I'm saving up for the $9 mains.
Now ....I'm a muse who knows a bit about a Dianne sauce
and I've not had quite such a pleasure since .... well ....
since "Hair" played at the Old Minerva.

Tables fill up slowly.
A nervous first date, a cockney family,
a seasoned old gay couple.
Mutterings melt into the curtains
and there is a soft edge to the evening.
We leave reluctantly.

Outside the years come flooding back.
Sharp shiny edges with a neon overload.
A cacophony of stuff.
A Nissan Pathfinder blasts on down the road.

Back here .... Back now...
Where have we been for the last two hours? I ask
Inventoria shrugs ponderingly.
We turn to face the resteraunt.
There's nothing there.
It's gone......that old world charm

But if you look real hard ...........

Wednesday, 9 May 2007

Do you remember a guy thats been?

A large stone mansion appeared on the hillside.
Maids and waiters ushered plates
to the people lying on the lawn outside .......
What am I doing here? wondered Lester.

The afternoon sun relaxed.
Strangers laughed and the breezes
circled their voices.
Lester rested his moppy head
and stared at the bluest sky he had ever seen.

He had been here before ...
thousands of times
but not once could Lester remember.
Not even the faintest feeling of it.

A trick of the light
A trick
the light

A television set appeared on the lawn.
Lester watched the screen
flicker to life.
Everyone was falling asleep.
The sunshine too became weary

A video clip .... What is that song?
muffled .... flickering scenes
with cotton wool melodies,
asking gently to be noticed.
Lester leaned forward
and fell headlong into the image on the screen

He stood on a brown desert plain,
A clown marched past....
also a diva with 1983 makeup.
There was a colourless menacing sky
and a wave rolled onto the shore....
It's that ashes to ashes one!
The one about an early song,
What am I doing here? wondered Lester.

A trick of the light
A trick
the light

Monday, 7 May 2007

My Days

This is how I spend my days
This is how I break my back
This is how I live my dreams
This is how I write a tune
This is how I ring my daughter
This is how I sometimes feel like shit
This is how I buy the milk
This is how I show fucking respect
This is how I call my friends
This is how I hold my head up high
This is how I fall in love
This is how I spend my days

Tuesday, 1 May 2007

Another day at Jasons guitar shop

Jason was a man that accumulated mess
and he seemed to very quickly.
Dust on the shelving
wood shavings on the till
paint splattered carpet
superglue on his hands.

The counter was a pile of guitar parts
scribbled down notes
last nights dinner
last weeks breakfast ....
my phone was down there somewhere.
Leads and batteries
half a distortion pedal
at least three coffee cups
Jasons tablets
the chords to a new song idea .....

This was the counter mess.
The mess though,
was much larger than the counter
and would spill outward
to become general shop mess
or behind the counter mess
or window display mess.

Shop proirity was not cleaning.
Suited me just fine.
I've kinda spent my life surrounded by
guitars and bits and bobs....
tripping over leads and instruments
with scant regard for domestics ..... therefore
at Jasons you wouldn't here me complaining
Well maybe only one day ......

It was an early morning customer
about 11 am.
I was in the shop standing behind the counter
pondering the mess.
Jason hadn't turned up yet.
But I had a distinct feeling
he had been in the shop till the early hours.

Do you have 2 sets of bronze wound lights
12 gauge preferably.
Sure mate I said ...
scrambling through the counter top
I found one set easily.
The second set would be a liitle harder to find.
I tipped books and bills onto the floor.
I pushed coffe cups around like that magic trick...
careful not to tip any over the good customers wallet
that he had placed delicately
on the only counter space remaining.

I lifted an opaque tuppaware container
three quarters filled with some yellowy liquid.
I moved it quickly to the floor behind the counter.
The lid was not secure and a good splash landed on the wallet.
Luckily the customer was distracted
by the Midnight Blue Fender Jaguar
hanging on the wall.

"Great neck on that one" I enthused
as I smudged the wallet almost dry.....
I found the second set of strings and the customer paid up ......
like nothing had happened
He popped his dampish wallet back in his pocket
smiled and left.

Normally I would just apoligise and be upfront
about a spillage like this ...... but you see
the shop had no toilet
and with Jason working late most nights
or the coffee shop toilet in use
one had to come up with solutions.
Jason even labelled the tuppaware containers
with our names .....

When Jason arrived
I told him about wallet man.
It made his day.
He thought it was hilarious...... and it was.
I also took the opportunity to say to Jason
that the counter mess was ok with me....
but could we draw the line with human waste.

Sure said Jason.... agreeing with that impish look of his
He rattled his keys, pointed to the door and said ...
c'mon ..... lets go to the Piccollo for a coffee.