by the shores of the pacific
in the leafy eastern suburbs
lived the singer nevets yeblik
with his thousand dollar falcon
walking on the rainy boardwalk
hiding in the misty evenings
drinking buzz and blowing ganga
damiana and yohimbe
with his wispy hair and freckles
fingers gliding o’er his fender
bearded and five times a father
pulling music from the ether
doing all his naive paintings
doing yoga in the twilight
breathing out in pranayama
and aligning all his chakras
diving for a deeper meaning
listening to his own minds chatter
ignorance and empty grandeur
voices whisper in his memory
songs he sang that come to haunt him
words he wrote that then meant nothing
nights he spent with white insomnia
writhing on the hooks of poppies
music deafened in its hearts head
marbled veins of hidden meanings
things he never meant to be there
others all may take their meaning
only some will be enamored
in the world so dull and weary
no one cares for subtle magic
only blasting screaming yelling
only dancing death and metal
all the noise and all the turmoil
fading in the daybreaks silence
then he rises from his slumber
leaves his fine wife to her dreaming
leaves his daughters softly breathing
as the lay entwined together
sitting down at his computer
typing through the misty morning
as the bondi rain comes softly
falling on the sand and bindis
falling on the tramps and tourists
on the roofs of the pavilion
running off the swaying palm trees
lightly touching on the windshield
blurring all the scarlet brakelights
reflected off the mornings phantoms