extract from
Poem for an artist
Falling in a river
mud on my feet
slippers that no longer meet
I take a can
and make a phone
so that I never feel alone
It’s far out here in the west
mostly mortgages & parks are best
its even further out in those hills
with kids and even more bank bills
though for some its NOT!
Its art amongst
the shopping malls and waterfalls
those cascades of wire and rubber.
Light blue and pastel pink
all muzak and shiny mirrors
glamorous mall
my beacon of the 80s
its the beat its the beat its the beat
on the street.
Cars, lebs and rev heads
sports, weights and soggy beds
fucked school and being cool
over and out
its in the past
since then its been a blast
Death makes for sacred ground
Oztralia no longer a transit lounge
waiting here to go back home
retiring inside the Greek zone.
Who will clean the precious graves
and make the marble sparkle
change the plastic flowers and
avoid an ethnic debacle
I am not a victim
but fuck I love a drama
comedy or tragedy
just like any other farmer
It’s so Ozzy and a wee bit Greek
and i like that I can land on my feet.
