… and words are all I have

I want to play words

like Jerry Lee

plays piano

on Sweet Little Sixteen

or

Sonny Rollins

sax

on Waiting For a Friend:

hot little melodies

in the cosy confines

of poetry

*pic courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Transcendental Soap

I wash myself with transcendental soap,

it makes me shine, lathers my hope,

rinses away all my petty needs,

you know the ones: the urge to pee,

to have three square meals, to sleep

it lifts me high, takes me deep

whenever I feel that I’m on the ropes

I wash myself with transcendental soap

The Burmese Cat’s Haiku

I do not trust the calm

I know within its placid arms

lie the seeds of alarm

Burmese

The cat is the forgotten candidate when they fight:

sure, they hurt each other but the cat recoils too,

even the walls and lounge chairs at the suddenness,

the squall of this. The walls and sofas cannot move,

but the cat can. Exit, pursued by bear. Only small,

but with the memory of an elephant. The cat remembers

long after they forget.

Forklift Driver

I don’t want to be a forklift driver

the rest of my life

the 23 year-old from Perth said

just before he came on stage

and belted out

‘I Need You Tonight’ by INXS

only as good as Michael Hutchens

and he looked good,

strong, strapping with brown tumbling curls

& a sinuous, sexy voice

which filled the hall and lifted the coaches

& crowd

like a forklift driver

*pic courtesy of Wiki Commons