tell them nevets
tell them of your world and your time
tell them about how you got the permission
youd been seeking
tell them how you wrested your fate from the monster
tell them how you communicated
how you paid and were paid
tell them about the wee bonnie children and their song
tell them who they are in their dreams
tell them who they sometimes become at night
and then tell them of the thoughts
like
could it be possible to have system without organisation?
and how far one would have to go
and the harmonica blazing finale as you ride off into that sunset strip
oh holly wood take me to thy heart
oh im back hollywood
oh please bestow ‘pon me your wondrous aura of success
oh im sorry for the things ive said
it was jus’ you know, sour grapes
anyway
so what
today a rainbow appeared in the sky
for the first time i really saw the violet
nice one whoever thought of that
maybe rainbows appear by accident
like everything else
so on yadnus, nevets
you sally 4th
the promised land,olde fellow
the fabled kingdom of riches
the mansions of glory
each one with a fireproof floor
who lies behind the north wind?
tell them nevets
about the cold water
about the salty suck of the seawater in the pool
on sulking overcast mornings
the rain on the surface
the zebra patterns in the sand on the bottom
all nature has a familiar style in her flourishes n swirls
the sea , the shadows, the beasts, the trees, the clouds
sunlight falling on the pillow
the arc of a gull
the orbit of the spheres
the golden mean
the way it all sometimes appears to join up
whats going on here?
what is this all about?
go on, nevets, tell them the secret
tell them the names
the techniques
the key to the future
the improbably simple release of breath
the lovely pause of sleep
the rhythm, that there is rhythm at all
that there is anything at all
that anything is out there
or in here?
whats the difference?
whats the difference between us fiendss
whats the similarities?
evening comes down in shades of purple
the city glows off in the distance
on one side the black ocean
swallowing boats and men whole
north bondi looks a bit like hollywood
a bit i said
some palm trees
some hills with spanish-y villa type deals
some beemers n merx
some tramps
and some monkey in a suit who whizzed up the ladder
and hippies like me who dont (have to) go to work
i wish i did but now its too late
who wants a fifty one year old apprentice
i could drop dead before i learn my trade
kn prepares spring roles
bacchus is finished if ya reading this yabber
doodles appear outta the bath
two merkids with bad attitudes
in my room i have these things
a printer
a big set of pastels
a loada books
a loada cds
a loada bitsa paper
a loada art mess dust paint flakes flecks
a painting of harry houdini, my hero
a self portrait
a tucson painting by lucy culliton
whose studio i have visited
its in the blue mountains
and its this huge like loft kinda space
on the edge of a valley
and the place is full of cacti and paintings of cacti
and animals like roosters walking around
god i love to see places like this
shes knocking em out and shes just in the groove
like a songwriter who cant stop writing
she just paints n paints
presumably getting better n better
until better is such a subtle increment
hardly anyone other than you will understand
arts like that
lifes like that
loves like that
music too i guess
blogging…
what is it?
is it art?
is this the reality version of literature?
or what?
what does it matter?
what does it matter to the beasts
our intellectual thrashing?
what do the beasts think about my blogg?
ha ha
thats right
its dark where i am now
thursday what a beautiful day fiendss
full of promise but still with holding
payday too for some
heyday for others
mayday in arcadia
goodbye then
sk