The Old One Two

 

At the time

He thought

Nothing could hurt him

Like that

Ever

Again.

The only thing

That came close,

The second blow

Landed,

Two decades later

When he realised

He had been

Right.

Parkstreet

Toast 25/12/2020

 

It’s been a bitch of a year,

We’ve all shed twenty twentears, 

Who’d have thought we could feel 

Irrational rage

For supermarket zombies who

Must . . .  eat . . .  bolognese?

And who’d have thought

A grown man

Could just think of a thirty five year old soap opera

And weep inconsolably? 

Molly! 

It’s been a bastard of a year,

We’ve all felt twenty twenfears.

If I were to die in lockdown,

If I were to fall,

Would I make a sound?

Would I make a sound? 

It’s been a cunt of a year,

But we are all still twenty twenhere.

It’s been like the Star Trek episode where the alien intelligence takes over everyone’s minds and controls everything we think and feel and say and do, but eventually the alien is

Banished

And we are left 

With the tatters

Of our illusion 

Of control 

And the lesson 

Is self forgiveness.

And soon Rob will pull something 

From the bottom cupboard of the dresser

And pour some glasses

And he’ll say, “it’s old, but it’s good”,

Putting a few months

Into perspective.

And next week 

There’ll be a new episode.

And a new adventure.

Will I make a sound? 

Parkstreet

(This was performed with a version of Roads by Portishead woven into the text, accompanied by ukulele.)

A Farewell Flag

 

She’d made her bed

Before she left 

For the hospital.

A farewell flag.

Parkstreet

friend

 

dogs

can hear

shadows

cry

Parkstreet 

Ko-Fi

Melody Reigns

 

The magpies are singing in the back streets of St. Kilda,

Charlie Parkering their joy.

Pandemic silence

Has freed them from

Our murmuring motors

From our impatient tunelessness.

The Magpies are singing in the back streets of St. Kilda,

Melody reigns.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Call Me

 

I’d decided

To go through

A shakuhachi phase,

Purchased a plastic 

Rendition 

Of the instrument.

In the same message

She told me

That the words 

Plastic shakuhachi

Made her happy,

That her bum 

Was getting chubby,

That everything 

Was slipping away.

I told her,

When things 

We’re slipping,

To call me,

To chant

Chubby bum, chubby bum, plastic shakuhachi

Chubby bum, chubby bum, plastic shakuhachi,

And I would come.

But she didn’t call,

And everything slipped away,

Slipped away,

Like

My shakuhachi 

Phase.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Messing About In Boats

 

“Hello Captain Roy,

I wrote a poem about you,

Do you want to hear it?”

“No.”

“It goes like this:

Ahoy ahoy

Ahoy ahoy

It’s always a joy

With Captain Roy.”

“That was shit.”

“I thank you.”

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi