posted on January 16, 2010 at 6:51 am

warm silent grey saturday
what does it contain?
as the seconds n minutes slowly reveal ’emselves
this day you will never have again…. probably
you should see the bushes moving in the wind
you should smell the sea breezes gusting at five knots
you should hear the distant happy shouts of children
as the ice cream truck makes its rounds up
billabong ave
then albert street
then baines place
then mansfield st
then the freakin’ blvde of broken dreams
i feel : everything
thats why i tried to blot it all out
what do i feel
i feel the greeness and the yellowness of moss
i notice the white eggs in the mouths of black ants
i see the cars with for sale signs which seem to never sell
i see the beautiful ugly people and momentarily i am them
i am them as they are you and you read me and we are all together
we are all together in this poem now
i have invoked you whom readeth and you are in this now
no excuse for not touching my pasteldusty keyboard
thru my tanned little fingers
only one type type types though
my right index bears the percussive brunt
tap tap type type
the way i retell my tales makes em seem unreal
some of my life was so unreal
unreally bad
unreally good
unreally real too
and really unreal
now thats just plain sophistry
but nonetheless i sit in my room
done my yoga
done my swimming
done my blah blah blah
lucky you i’m now writing my blahg
my blah blah blahg
me me me me me me
a gynormous explosion of narcissistic claptrap
and self congratulatory bilge
plus super nostalgic snapshots of some kids past
some kid you never heard of
some kid out there with freckles n a cruel streak
short brown dead straight hair
he did this
he did that
his dad smoked bloody joe blow cigarettes
and his mum worked as a whatnot for such n such
did any of it ever happen i dont expect so
i wish i could go back to one particular day
like in the early daze of my band
when we shot up thru the ranks
when we were screamed at by our audience and our roadies
yeah heres a snapshoot of me
i’m playing the megadrome and theres 1 million screaming teenagers
and we’re killing it
and everyone understands it too
every screaming groovy rich well adjusted healthy kid there
well they grokk my groovy trip
this really all happened
and we created a golden dome of energy
and our good karma nourished the crowds
and we played the secret chord that pleased the lord
which was really some kinda f maj or 7
with something left in or out
and man we throbbed like a machine in lift off
and wow i guess that woulda surprised that freckle face brat
to be standing there throbbing
as for the briefest moment stars were aligned
and $ $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ $ $
and i comprehended the nature of fame
and i seeing its inherent emptiness
i donated my hundreds of dollars to
buying myself a cave
where i dwelt meditating on the nature of draftiness
in the lotus pasture
and i read melancholic chinese poems
as i stood on a little bridge
and a blue swallow with a white throat flew overhead
and one day i realized
i realized everything
and the thing about everything
was that there was nothing
nothing to be done or said or even known
i just filled my head with nothing
stuffed it bloody well full of empty-ness
but rocknroll turned into showbiz
and being a hermit made crabby
and nothings better than complete happiness
and showbiz is better than nothing
my life seemed to jump n start in great gushes forwards n back
one minute the idol next minute the idle next minute no idyll
not really ideal
although i usually do deal
arent words crazy
like figures you can add em up anyway you want
you can have a blog n write whatever you like
you dont have to say this is real
this is true
it may be
it may not be
you just make it all up as you go along dontcha
blah blah blah
you put it in your blog
what a weird future i live in
spruiking my mummies book out in deep cyberspace
a cyber space no one could foresee
back when the good old bombs came down on london town
nor when your humble hero came suavely kicking n screaming
nor when i first humbly picked up a bass guitar
and knocked out my first riff
drove my datsun to the flats n
but the levy was dry
does it really exist?
yeah someone will write
i still live here…..
are you sure
are you sure youre awake
go on
pinch yourself
forget yourself
forever BABY!

24 Responses to “theme from someplace”

    Error thrown

    Call to undefined function ereg()