The sun had vanished, it was black as black,
The air was crisper than ice.
And the wire on the fence whispered a steady humming tune
To hundreds of kangaroo mice.
We’d broken down, in the middle of Australia,
We were alone, my partner and I.
At first it was serene, just sharing a wine,
Under billions of stars in the sky.
By morning it occurred, we desperately needed help,
So we trudged about ten k to a track.
We were spotted by an aboriginal tracker in denims,
Riding with pride, on his horse back.
He gave us some water, then left for a car,
Later towing us to his quaint cottage shed.
He looked over the engine, said we could stay,
Saying if he hadn’t found us we’d surely be dead.
The starter motor had broken, bus was in two days,
So he lay a bed on the cold kitchen floor.
And said to watch any of his hundreds of horror movies,
This guy loved his blood, guts and gore.
This guy lived alone, he knew how to survive,
In this desert, he was fascinatingly unique.
He fixed our car, we gratefully shook hands goodbye,
But I can’t ever watch the movie Wolf Creek.
Categories:
starter motor, fear,
Form: Quatrain
Electricity
These fantasies are birthed by machine
Progress marched by a single century
Mankind’s deliverance to the future
With an impulse sent from a switch
Illumination and dependence without a hitch
Promises will capture us forever
This silent voice working globally
Whispering all the imaginations
Birthed by machine
And in these will-o-the-wisps
These screens, these communications, these travellings
And all these things we just cannot leave
Will they give us answers to what we mean
In our grip the energy slips
Its purpose defined creates a need for our consumings
All in time we will believe
In these things which are birthed by machine
Planetary aura on which we feed
Multiply, double, proliferate, kill, enlighten, save, survive and die
As thoughts, memory and individuality
A force questioning our faith in the unseen
These are the things birthed by machine
Neurons and synaptic, starter motor electric universality
A telephone, on a wave of orgasmic lightning
We are riding high
And for just one century have we grown
With this mechanical seed
And been born by the power of
Electricity
Categories:
starter motor, life, science
Form: Free verse