For Lisa, Christmas Eve

Hush! Hush!

Whisper who dares.

It’s Christmas Eve

In Queen Mary’s dollhouse.

Grandma wants 

The children to sleep.

To this end

She has pulled down the book

That nice Mr. Milne

Gave us last year,

But the children are having

None of it.

Their eyes are scrunched, 

But their legs are kicking

Beneath the blankets.

Because tomorrow Daddy will be home

All day,

And there’ll be food

And cake

And cake is a food,

But different,

Because when you’re full

You can’t eat more food,

But you can eat more cake

And nobody cares

That Christopher Robin

Is saying his prayers.

Grandma tries again

With a story of a little girl

On the other side of the world,

Where the sun is already up

And the girl

And her brother 

Are shooting each other

With brand new

Water pistols.

And she accidentally shoots her Daddy

To laugh at him dying

Like a B movie cowboy

On the floor

In front of the tree.

The children are snoring

Because Grandma’s stories

Are so very boring.

As she glides silently from the room

Grandma dares whisper,

“Do you like eggs children? Well suck those eggs.”

The children sleep the sleep of the innocent.

Hush! Hush!

Whisper who dares.

What’s that you say?

You’ve seen Queen Mary’s dollhouse 

And you didn’t see any children

In it?

Lisa did.

Parkstreet

Carry On

If you are reading this

I’m already dead.

If so,

I want you to know,

That,

There is schnitzel in the fridge,

Lemons,

In a bowl,

On the kitchen bench.

I trust you 

To do the right thing.

I’m sorry, 

I’m all out of Chablis.

Parkstreet

Modesty

There was once a town where the lady who owned the dress shop would protect the modesty of her window mannequins by placing slips on them when she changed their attire with the seasons.

I lived in that town.

Now I don’t.

Parkstreet 

Ko-Fi

This Poem Contains No Illuminati Code

This poem

Contains 

No

Illuminati code.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Twisties

Do you remember the time

Your flatmate let me in

And when I entered the kitchen

You were sitting in the window

Slender and wonderful,

Framed in light,

Peacefully eating Twisties?

You smiled at me.

I picked on you

For eating Twisties.

I had to.

You were too beautiful.

Parkstreet

The Birth Of Comedy

Inside the cave a man dances like a fool, to keep the people laughing and distracted from the storm. 

Outside the cave a shaman dances like a fool, to keep the people frightened and focused on the storm.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Flautist

A flautist
Is a feather,
Floating
On the wind,
Seeking
A hat
To adorn.




Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Kiss Science

There oughta' be a Nobel Prize. 

No physicist observes evidence more accurately,
No mathematician makes quicker calculations.

Does she want him to kiss her? Cheek or lips?
Decide.
Now.

There oughta' be a Nobel Prize.





Parkstreet

A Text Message From A Friend

A while back I was playing a regular Thursday late night gig with a quirky psychadelic jazz band. All was going sweetly until the venue owner decided to become our musical director, told us to change what we played or ship out. He who pays the piper and all that, we were all on our way to what we knew would be the last gig, not feeling too excited about going, when we all received the following text message. It came from a friend who has forgotten more about music than I'll ever know. I quote it exactly, I still have it on my phone.

HavagreatgigDudes,FucktheChumpassedBeanCountingCockSuckingBarstaffingSheepCountingMonkeyUnManagingFoolswhoDaretoJudge+CriticizeYourBravelyTrueAndAwesomeART. Hitlerdidthatshittoo, KillNazisAndFuckthePolice ILoveyou Loverick, WishiWasThere In the studio till 2am, havefun X



We played a great final gig.





Parkstreet

The Bloomsday Girl

This song is kind of a spoken thing, not certain it makes sense in print but here it is.

The Bloomsday Girl.

When I asked if you liked Miles Davis,
You said yes.
Have you read J.D. Salinger?
You said all nine short stories, For Esme With Love and Squalor and all the rest, yes.
Will you join me for coffee?
You said you don't get out of bed for a day that doesn't promise good coffee, yes.
Japanese food?
You asked if tuna sashimi makes me horny too, we both laughed yes yes yes.

And you said yes,
Every time I posed a question.
And you said yes,
And it opened up my eyes,
To the possibilities.

When I asked, do you like it that way?
You said yes yes yes, halleluljah you said yes.
Will you come walkabout with me?
You said hand in hand we'll wander 'round this planet together, yes.
Can I pick you up, when you're down, can I carry you, will you let me be your man?
You said yes please.
When I got down on one knee, when I got down on one knee,
You said yes, glory be you said yes.

And you said yes,
Every time I posed a question.
Yeah you said yes,
And it opened up my eyes,
To the possibilities.

If I gave up playing music, if I had a day job, would you still love me?
You said yes.
That's never going to happen, I'm doomed to being a drifting bum forever,
You still said yes.
When it gets too hard, will you hold me?
Of course yes.
Every day, when I look into your eyes i see just one word.

Cos' you said yes,
Every time I posed a question.
And you said yes,
And it opened up my eyes,
To the possibilities.






Parkstreet

White Supremacy

It’s like the wallpaper
Calling the kettle
John Coltrane.




Parkstreet

Airport Airport

Airport, airport, airport.

They've got everything I need at the airport.

Coffee bar, sushi bar, cocktail bar, rent a car.

A place where time means everything and time means nothing in it's white flourescent arctic summer twenty four houredness.

Arrivals and departures, births and deaths, airport tears are practise for real life.

I feel secure at the airport. A reassuring adult voice tells me to guard the threat that is my luggage.

There is an information desk at the airport, for when I feel perplexed. At San Francisco International I ask the sage behind the desk,"do I lose faith in myself when I lose faith in love and art, or is it the other way 'round?" He hands me a map for the Bay Area Rail Transit system. I accept it gratefully. In these existential matters one guide is as good as any other.

I catch the train, which I notice can be driven from either end, and alight at the pallendromic Civic station. My question has been answered.

Airport, airport.

Don't forget, getting there is half the fun. When I land in Sydney, in fourteen hours, I'll have had half the fun I'm going to have. 

Airport, airport, airport. 

They have everything I need at the airport.

Coffee bar, sushi bar, cocktail bar, rent a car.

Some day everywhere will be like the airport.

In the future the whole world will be like an airport.






Parkstreet

All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace, Richard Brautigan

Saxophone, A Definition #1

Saxophone, a complex, ornate brass sword used for the sole purpose of slaying demons.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Worlds Within Oysters

From a photograph by Kris Reichl.

Energy in, energy out.

Love in, love out.

The universe is an infinite oyster colony, a bivalve reality, no conscious thought, just energy in, energy out, love in, love out.

Pearl planets are rare.

We share the sea but live in our own shells, pretending to think. We are nothing but energy in, energy out, love in, love out. Will I create a pearl before I am opened and eaten?

Am I a man dreaming I'm an oyster, or am I an oyster dreaming I'm a man?

Energy in, energy out. 

Love in, love out.



Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Tramps Like Us

Go, traveller.

Here's to all the dharma bums, the makers of music, the dreamers of dreams, those who live on love and air, the joyously lost, the gloriously adrift, the seekers, the circus joiners, the exiled, the wanderers, the stumblers, the free, a green tea toast to you all.

May you all find a place to heal your loneliness, a person to call home, a vocation that finds you. 

May you never lose faith in redemption through travel, may your restlessness lead to peace.

Go, traveller.




Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Riddichio Lettuce

Rhythmically frightening,
Punch drunk lightning,
Subtlety, subtly, subtlety.

The tenor man's shoulders,
A blue, blues soldier,
Broadly broadly broadly.

Senses notated,
An intricate salad.
Riddichio lettuce.





Parkstreet

Pointy Bits

Close your umbrella,
It's just a sunshower.
Let the blessed rain fall on your blessed head.

The umbrella
Lowers your horizon,
You can't see the rainbow.

I can't see your eyes.

And when you wave those pointy bits at the edges near my face it freaks me out.




Parkstreet

Blue Notes

While I was out playing blue notes to pay our rent,
She was out giving me reason 

To play them. 

I saw her 
On the corner
Of Flattened Fifth and Lex.
She'd told me Lex was her clarinet teacher, 

But there wasn't room

For a cane reed

Between

Their 

Lips.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Hold The Feelings, Thanks

What's muesli for?

Why are cats?

What do reality shows about women who are married to famous men do?

How do conversations about shoes justify themselves?

What has carrot got to do with cake? What has cake got to do with carrot?

Who is that singer, the one that sang that song?

Yes, more bacon please, and a conversation with no feelings in it, thanks.

Thank you.



Parkstreet

Drum, Song Lyrics

Drum (song lyrics)


Your heart
Beats me like a drum, no
And your eyes
They burn me like the sun.
Your mouth
Shoots me like a gun.
My love,
We've only just begun.

I'm going to ride it like a wave,
And sail it like a storm.
Gonna' ride you like a wave,
Sail you like a storm.

Your touch
Breaks me like a string,
And your arms,
They bind me like a ring.
Your kiss
Thaws me like the Spring.
My love,
You are my little wing.

I'm going to ride it like a wave,
And sail it like a storm.
Gonna' ride you like a wave,
Sail you like a storm.

Parkstreet

Ko-fi

Day Is Done

Day is done.
Pull the orange blind,
Pull the black curtain.

Day is done.
Shut the candle,
Blow out the door.

Day is done.
Squeeze out the last of the toothpaste,
Spit out the last of the feelings.

Day is done.
Shed clothes,
Shed skin.

Day is done.
Bed alone,
Bed alone.

Day is done.
Pull the black curtain,
Day is done.






Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

He Wrote This Poem For Her

He wrote this poem for her, 
Wrote it carefully,
In his best handwriting,
On a clean sheet of paper.

Folded the paper neatly,
Slotted this poem he wrote for her into the back of his passport.

And left.






Parkstreet

Passing

Denim shorts clinging, pony tail swinging, firm thighed stride of youth and purpose, pert breasted optimism, new, unbroken, passing me by leaving the scent of memory, lost opportunity, the one that got away, denim shorts clinging, pony tail swinging.





Parkstreet

Bar Siren

Long of leg
And firm of bottom.
Smart one liners?
You bet she's got 'em.

Straight of back
And pert of breast.
She'll spritz you spirits,
With a zest.

Tight of jeans
And tight of top.
She'll smile at you,
Until you stop,
Tipping.





Parkstreet