I hear currawongs threading
their melodic calls through
the trees, sewing a dark
into the cold air.
And far below,
a flock of white cockatoos
screech their noisy chaos
along the deepening shadows
of the valley floor.
They seem like dabs
of zinc white escaping
from a painting, sprouting
wings to lift them
from the canvas
and fly them to where
they flicker on the edge
of the unseen,
before dissolving forever
into the distances
of blue ultramarine.
With this substance a lot to link,
If only one would clearly think
But nothing between Zinc and school’s ink
Nor voyaging vessels that sink:
Perhaps the gray of oysters, not pink…
We all should crave the mineral Zinc.
You ask me to explain i’ll blink
But a doctor gives you a wink
Of guys about to glasses clink:
‘Please, Zinc show in your food and drink
Or you’ll betray soon, the Doink:
A pity you’ll start an oink,
For off I shall not fail to slink…
Zinc important to taste and smell,
Meals releasing no smell you tell,
Cooked stew without aroma hell:
Fried chicken without same won’t sell…
And then one’s wounds that should heal
Zinc knows how to with them deal
About these doctors do not twice think,
Because it is Medicine, not its brink.
With their cruel Laughter
I quickly ended the chapter
About a started helicopter,
Still air-borne forty hours after,
Because of flyers never the softer
Above zinc or Rafter,
Until results are born
Or dreams to shreds torn…
And then their cruel laughter began,
With all the heat of a room without fan:
I like a new album denied a hit
Or listeners choosing it to challenge a bit…
Then, I choosing to accept my cajolery
That evening showing up at a gallery.
But plotters are fearless things of every century,
Even as a Government is thought a sanctuary.