Blitzkrieg : a Kookaburra Laughs
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“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 © Leanne Lovejoy-Burton | Year Posted 2018
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