When You Can’t Get Off The Ground.

The news is all bad today.

All of it.

A murder in Bundaberg–
an eight year old girl
stolen from her own bed

A stabbing in Lidcombe–
en route home
from an education

And another murder in Darlinghurst,

this time at Taylor Square

a stones throw

from my place

though that was Sunday…

And yes, Peter Garrett’s mother burned to death
in a house fire so many moons ago–

A boy of 23 year tries his best

then

and now–

And then little, precious Star;

whom I’d only met twice
though that’s twice as many times
as any of these of these other murders–

and whom I’d adored

nonetheless

and found

myself

feeling much more connected to
than
half the tribe
I call my friends–

here —

Her body found
dead
in Sydney Harbor

Her daughter just 17.

Yeah, the news is bad today.

The company is downsizing.

The city is a pustule,
hell bent
on squeezing me
o u t

As my sister drives up the freeway
with
other things to do

I hear it
first hand
from the secretary
in the office

‘I have listened to your music
and you
are much too talented
for all of this…’

The compliment hangs heavy on my head.

‘Thanks,
but there a few things to left to consider

which I shall detail for now

in point form

for matters
of
c o h e r e n c e . . .

– I find performing music a manipulation.

– I support myself in this fair city and there are bills to pay in the tower of song.

– I can not manage to find a Star to tipple with– that has not been murdered-

let alone a band.

– I need something.

– I feel a storm brewing…

but thanks.’

Your flattery does not feed me.

As I refuse to feign
histrionic
love

for those who have been murdered

for those I never met

for those I only met twice.

Yeah,

the news is bad today.

(Image by Charwei Tsai.)

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Comments
2 Responses to “When You Can’t Get Off The Ground.”
  1. Hedley Galt says:

    Beautiful! You captured such horror beautifully – if that is even possible. Thank you xx

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