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Blitzkrieg : a Kookaburra Laughs
“Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea.”  Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood "Blitzkrieg : A Kookaburra Laughs" Asking for His heaven now uncovered, he, thinks about hanging beam knots a small glitch in the swearing jar pot A black tree blocks his way, in the Yard they cry, "Black Boy in the yard!", he moves away hides closer, tries to blend into the walls his way is skating round a snow dome Shake it up See it Stop See it Stop Shake it up The baton hits against palm and the guard's not swinging Love Charms He feels like a bumbling jester a stranger in the world now long time locked away, such absent dismay time swallowed into lost vacancy teeth decay kneeling he laughs, then cries, when he forgets how to pray the windscreen, The Beatles, Blue Mountains Foggy Demister He remembers the time with his two precious girls visiting the Three Sisters A story of Adventure, Singing Loud in the car A story of Adventure, Blue Bells ringing like Bees trying damn hard to escape out of that Big Blue Glass Bell Jar buzzing against walls in Glasshouses he walks the yard with rabid dogs throwing looks for bricks Fish Bowl in a Bad Spell Jar Here he remembers she is belting out in fine tune All I Really Want in the back seat of the car God damn this story to take you so far wrapped in the shadow of stripes No magic, just tricks A spider trapped under glass jar An awful green jungle packets of noodles, bartering soap for dry Weatbix, new tricks He remembers standing holding her in his arms Joadja Little Daughter Kangaroos Black Boys Rustle The Big Chap watches them in their Bell Jar car The Koala spits out leaves comfortably numb perplexed Wombat Green Ants Porcupine Sic’em Rex Yet they are all blind Time it tumbles Time it tumbles A Picnic at Hanging Rock scene Hanging heads grumble fat heavy-bellied black storm clouds rumble Late Afternoon disarmed and then charmed the little she smells fear in the air, like Azaria in a Dingo’s dry mouth Mother and father stand apart air thick with puzzle See her fade into Dust See her turn inwards she hints of something foreseen She is quietened by his scarlet fit She is muzzled a Blue Robin's Egg in her mouth rolls on her tongue wanting to spit sharp nails, blunt tacks and pins See her give up on stories dead covered in rust All her dreams banged up in a car on a bush road wheels shooting up dust Glow Worm Glen no more sky of diamonds Late night into morning Minskys sings Mac the Knife Such sharp teeth dear with his Dizzy Drunk Fairweather Friends The Thin Man has come to collect all that was beautiful, now Freddy Krueger is his clandestine friend her heart thumps run away with the child let it end It was all just a bad dream. Blitzkrieged He was bit as a child shy bit and a bridle, he says to himself in his silent crib bars cold and tight I met her on a Winter’s night Little did she see Little did she possess of all the story of Me She knew me before I was Hell’s Bride Playing piano self taught Billy Esplanade on the Island, The Fraz barefeet, white sand, Banana Paddle Pops, Corner Shop Fish ‘N Chips burnt Grace by Buckley he followed her hurt. A child looks in the mirror Teeth like butterflies will fly away with the Boilermaker Her mother in the mirror she now scrys Sword pulled from a heart Never clearer, so much nearer Deadly Nightshade depart Smile Camera Action Life taught me to pull and play the game with whatever means fair play fast and play hard pull "The Bird" from the Cards Truth or Dare Stand and deliver guns cocked at a lost heart His sister, the imitator, the Lyrebird laughs (Lovejoy-Burton/August, 2018) "All I Really Want"/Alanis Morissette https://youtu.be/HLHvb9V8Yzs LYRICS/ https://genius.com/Alanis-morissette-all-i-really-want-lyrics "Time passes. Listen. Time passes. Come closer now. Only you can hear the houses sleeping in the streets in the slow deep salt and silent black, bandaged night.” Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood “Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, squats down alone to a dogdish, marked Fido, of peppery fish-scraps and listens to the voices of his sixty-six clocks, one for each year of his loony age, and watches, with love, their black-and-white moony loudlipped faces tocking the earth away: slow clocks, quick clocks, pendulumed heart-knocks, china, alarm, grandfather, cuckoo; clocks shaped like Noah's whirring Ark, clocks that bicker in marble ships, clocks in the wombs of glass women, hourglass chimers, tu-wit-tuwoo clocks, clocks that pluck tunes, Vesuvius clocks all black bells and lava, Niagara clocks that cataract their ticks, old time weeping clocks with ebony beards, clocks with no hands for ever drumming out time without ever knowing what time it is. His sixty-six singers are all set at different hours. Lord Cut-Glass lives in a house and a life at siege. Any minute or dark day now, the unknown enemy will loot and savage downhill, but they will not catch him napping. Sixty-six different times in his fish-slimy kitchen ping, strike, tick, chime, and tock.” Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood
Copyright © 2024 Leanne Lovejoy-Burton. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs