It Must Mean Something

I was driving to the clinic about my disintegrating blood

thinking about the riots in Washington,

the four deaths,

when Barry McGuire came on the radio, singing his anthem, from the sixties

‘Eve of Destruction’. You know it?

And I thought:

it must mean something, a message maybe but could something

written that far back, sixty years,

speak to the present?

Barry thought so, his voice just as urgent,

just as polemic

as it was then.

Sure, the finger on the nuclear button seemed shrill,

a little hysterical — it’d be more measured now, wouldn’t it? —

but the hate in Red China and the riots in Selma, Alabama,

seemed less so.

He was really getting worked up.

I thought his passion would pulverize the speakers.

I was getting a little scared, feel my blood fretting.

Just as I pulled in the car park,

the song came to an end.

God knows what apocalyptic anthem

would confront me on the way home.





pic courtesy of Wiki Commons

Supermoon in a New Light

800px-The_Bangkok_Supermoon_Photographs_by_Peak_Hora_10

And I know there’s a supermoon out tonight

& all i have to do is go out and look

above the treetops

and exclaim, Wow! Wow

& the stone dog will be pissing on the pavers again

& Mad Meg reeling ’round the birdbath freaking out

the other chooks

& the thoughts in my blood skedaddle like a cat

over the page

& I can barely keep up

& I know I’m going to be crucified for what I say

but hey! it’s Easter, the season to be crucified

but a rebirth is coming, a renewal.

I just don’t know what it’s going to look like

on the other side

The Sad Shopping Centre

lost-places-old-decay-ruin-162389

I read about the sad shopping centre, the one that’s going to close in Surrey Hills and turf out all the shoppers who like to hang out in the down-at-heel coffee shop where even broken light bulbs are not replaced, all the lonely people.

I read about how it’s going to close anytime soon, maybe tomorrow, next week, how it’s going to be replaced by shiny new apartments purchased by a Chinese business conglomerate, that there’s going to be flashy new shops to replace the deadbeat ones, the shuttered ones. Only the liquor store is thriving, all the lonely people.

I think of a world that’s closing down. Hotels, bars, restaurants, coffee shops, stadiums, places where people congregate. The city is emptying. People are retreating, even the parks have fewer people, the beaches and winter is closing in. It’s like a city that a neutron bomb has hit, all the lonely people.

People shuffle back to their homes from the seedy shopping centre, the old, the destitute, the disabled, the friendless, not knowing if they’ll have somewhere to go next week, somewhere to meet up.  Winter is closing in. And the Fear. And now the churches and libraries are closing too. All the lonely people.

 

And the Bees …..

IMG_20190116_083201

And the bees. You don’t see the bees amongst the trumpet flowers not even when they’re braying their beauty.

The creatures have abandoned us, Seb said.

And you don’t hear the rats anymore clattering in that small space behind the fridge where you can’t get at them. Nor the mice chittering in the corner.

The world’s gone quiet, Seb said. It’s like that film.

What film?

You know. ‘A Quiet Place’.

The wasps too. And the crows in their black leather jackets ….congregating like thugs at the back door. And making a racket. I kinda miss them.

Me too, said Seb.

And that stray cat with the asymmetric face. Why, even that plaster statue of old Rumpole doesn’t pee on the cobblestones on a full moon any more..

Not even the ghosts, sighed Seb. Not even the ghosts.

Waiting for the Apocalypse

Bril_Jesus_walking_on_the_Sea_of_Galilee

I am lying in bed waiting for the Apocalypse.

It is due fifteen minutes after midday.

We have been told these things before.

What do they know?

It is sunny outside though clouds are building.

There’s a piffle of a breeze rustling the bush outside my window though I notice it is picking up.

Could there be something in it?

Damn. There’s someone on the phone.

It’s Emily from my insurance company calling from interstate about a failed payment.

I question some details.

Just bear with me a moment, she says, as she scurries off to her superiors.

Don’t be long, I say. The Apocalypse is near.

Pardon?

The Apocalypse’

I’ll put you on hold, she says.

Dogs whine, doors clatter, the sky darkens.

Just then ADT Security phones.

What is wrong with you people? Don’t you know the Apocalypse is nigh?

Silence.

I go out to the verge, bring in the bins, look around. The winds have dropped.

All quiet on the western front.

Gus, the Jack Russel next door, barks at my presence.

It’s okay, buddy. It’s only me. And anyway it’s been postponed.

What has? it barks.

The Apocalypse.

Again?

Yes, again.

What the %$%&#.

Calm your farm, buddy.  We get to live another day.

I go inside, wait for the next alert.