Thursday, 22 December 2011

For ever

A small gathering of friends
lit the earth
this morning
We could see them
from Orion's Hill

No tricks
or mind blankets
just the gap between us

In love we will remain

Thursday, 15 December 2011

Rosyln St Kings Cross, circa 2012

On an evening not long ago
I was wandering and wondering
down Rosyln St
when it struck me
how much things have changed
how they do
how they go
memories jostling for position
my heartbeat keeping at pace
with my scuttling high heels

I rest against the old and dusty tree
and close my eyes ....
barons was there
all those rockers and rollers
fashion was rip it up
purple paisley black jackets
and dirty.
It was as if Andy Warhol's lot
had been let loose in a Scottish castle
and all the lights had gone out ...
bloody fantastic strange and exotic
...... though god awful in the daytime

Just next door was the Amsterdam Cafe
I can here the staff groaning at the thought
of another day
coffee crowds and a little secret ...
the place where you could buy a joint
it must be true .... I read it in the telegraph

Upstairs the fa'afafine girls would sing
island songs and bluster about in
colourful dresses and size 12 boots
wonderful friendly souls
if not a little odd
men be men and women be men and some big men
be girls too

in what I shouldn't really call a park
gather the underlings
of the underlings
who do running jobs for a small
time dealer's offsider
they scurry when the cops come
like a toddler running into a flock of
seagulls at bondi beach
hours of amusement

There were a couple of dodgy
second hand establishments
they're  all dodgy aren't they?
even the ones outside of the cross
gosh you could pick up a bargain ....
once I found my bike and my guitar pedal
and my phone sitting in the
good dealers window display
now I'm sure I'd left them at home ....... oh shit

There was Annie across the way
a little foody place
with great toasties
and a chess board always handy
when Annie was grumpy she was a time bomb
when Annie was happy she was a delight
a smile always around the corner
and always time
for the sad ones .... she was like the street's mum

Jason's guitar shop would ring to the sounds
of jamming. Old and lovely guitars
would hang in the window and the place would smell
like superglue
Jason was short and wore leather
and chain mail shirts
a well educated guy
always good for a chat
about the state of this or that
his laugh could
be heard from the darlinghurst road

Oh I do reminisce. ... with my eyes all misty
although they're still closed

and minutes later
or that it seems ........
I open them up

Across the road is a bar with a flat concrete
wall and flashing neon sign ..... it says FAKE BAR
oh yeah
I've heard all the hype

Three biggish chain takeaways and more neon
another flat lunchbox type building ....
squareish and plastic
not meant to see out the term
let alone the decade
or a hundred lovely years

Now an old girl's allowed to quibble
an old girl's allowed to quabble
but this old girl is brought to tears
this evening
yes I miss the old street
yet I know things must change
but as the sun sinks over
the lane way with two L's
and a glow quite lovely
fills the spaces between

something is missing
there's nobody here

I don't much blame them
it will
I'm sure
be out of control at the
fake bar after midnight
spilling on to the street
with pockets full of regrets
the young girls with all the charm of a shock jock
and the boys
beefed up and brazen
.... bless there little cotton socks
I truly hope they have fun

So for me
I'm going to scuttle down to the Piccolo
for a long black
the last bastion of bohemia
an oasis in the desert
a jolt to my poor jaded heart. ..... oh no
closed for renovations
don't worry
it'll still be the same old place
or so I'm told

for that my dearies
we wait and see.