HEADING FOR VENEZIA
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Syd, a squirrel with adventurous spirit most keen,
Bought 1925 roadster, a vintage touring machine.
With top down, tail flapping in the breeze,
The goddess of freedom he was sure to appease.
Popular was he, once featured in ‘Roadster Fanzine.’
Oh how Syd loved the roadster’s crushed velvet seats
Sinking in them as he raced down the city streets.
Waves to all the she-squirrels, feeling outta sight
Spends his dough dancing with them on Saturday nights.
Low on cash, Syd uses his roadster delivering food for UberEATS
That’s when he meets the she-squirrel named Aretha,
a singing diva who always orders lots of pepperoni pizza.
*Oh these city streets move way too slow, don’t you know.
Let’s go riding on the freeway! Drop the pedal, Syd. Go, go, go!
So they cruise onto better-than-ever street heading straight for Venezia.
I follow someone through the magazines
I'm higher than in love I'm a fanzine
tie her to me on TV
sans date a girl just vision
I love a drama i don't miss a scene
The power of time travel lies
In the laughter of your eyes.
It lifts me up and takes me away
Ten years ago today.
The demons in the past
Fade pale and fast,
As we re-enter childhood
To settle in the land of ‘could’.
But I cry out in fear
For sixteen again dear,
I have a heart to give
And ten hard years to live.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 87, July 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM87COMP.pdf].
I weep, I weep, I weep;
And volunteer for long term Cryo-sleep.
If in five hundred years’ time
I am full and in my prime,
He and she will be but a dream
Imprinted upon the wall by my last scream.
At the dawn of a new day
Five centuries are dewed away.
A butterfly, I will uncurl
Open the lid, the tubes unfurl,
And over a planet I will stand
Earth’s dream at my command.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Long after I think I am dead;
With a chest of iron and legs of steel,
I have a body I just can’t kill.
Rain drops cover the gut in the bin,
And I am powered by a motor within.
Far cheaper than a positronic brain,
Is a ‘borg with a mind hazed by pain.
When the raindrops fell in my heart
I rose-up and tore myself apart.
They came and put me back together,
And guaranteed me to last forever.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
In the orchard
under the stars,
I have the kind of company
I never had before.
The creature I came here with
appeared to be human,
but my hands feel a scaly back,
and stiff fur pricks my chest.
A hooked beak tears at my mouth
destroying its sweetness.
Lifeless, I am encircled by claws.
I submit
believing I am doomed.
Originally published as "“Sweet seventeen and never been kissed”,
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 84, October 1994, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM84COMP.pdf].
Emotionless, the doctor applied tools.
The foetus extracted,
they wheeled her away.
Although she could not move,
and could not relieve herself,
they did not check upon her
until the next day.
The Aerobus arrived
to take her to the
nursery planet,
where she would tend her offspring;
The matriarch checking
daily, weekly,
to see that she did so.
She did not rest.
She could not heal.
But there was no help for her,
fertility was more valuable every day;
and she had resigned her rights
when she had chosen
to join the gene pool.
Better than a row of test tubes,
were these living,
breathing incubators.
Once a gift to all humanity -
part of a lost cultural phenomenon
called ‘the family’;
Reproduction was now a rarity.
Originally published as "Childbirth on a Civilised Planet"
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
As I was walkin’ down the street
I thought I saw him ahead,
I followed on trembling feet
wherever he led.
We threaded through the crowd
And entered a dark lane.
The sun blushed behind a cloud
As I leapt into his arms again.
Tear blind eyes freed my senses
To see the monster manning the trap.
I halted at the hyper-spatial fences,
Poised to take a step back...
Come, thou Demond of Delgon,
Appear as my lover again for me.
I know not where he is gone,
And I may be consumed by thee.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
When the war of worlds' was done
And the Colonists owned the sun,
The old miner from Sirius One
Gleaned the galaxy for his son.
He sought the brave boy he knew
He'd disowned in four thousand & two.
Though the surviving rebels were few,
he had word of his boy's crew.
Hurrying to the caverns of Lithmulu,
A prodigal father faced a boy in blue,
But it was too late his dream to realise,
For a parasite looked out of the wild eyes.
Originally Published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 83, July 1994, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM83COMP.pdf].
You call up and say:
“Hello, how are you today?”
I’m dead and rottin’ away,
But my droid is pretty bright,
It answers “I’m all right!”
You celebrate the bi-centennial,
And call up your oldest serving menial:
My spirit is hardly congenial,
But my droid is going strong;
It accepts congratulations from the throng.
So when all is said and done,
I’ve been dust on the floor of sub-station one
Twenty-three revolutions of the sun.
Your polite query is replied,
By the droid who inherited my pride.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 87, July 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM87COMP.pdf].
I sat on a bench, reading football fanzine;
Beside me, man with a craggy face
Burst in paroxysm of rage;
Cute little boy, breaks the toy!
Unreasoning sound, wafted through the air;
Angelic face, felt scare!
Memories flashed into my mind,
A treasure, built with grand design!
I ruined it, unwittingly!
I wanted to wallow in my own despair;
But, Dad took me in his arm, gently!
Soothed me up, promising to repair.
I could not stand the vile;
Boy glances, with wan smile!
I'm home for my old wooden trike,
Father's masterpiece, for my seventh birhtday!