Re-worked this timeless oldie … images and observations from a northbound road trip to join a hippy sports day in a distant valley.
I made it up about the hob-nailed thongs!
Day-Glo spacy waistcoats
white overalls hobnailed thongs
modern rural highwaymen
armed with stop/go signs
bright pink earthmovers
make a night-bright sight
stunning moonrise on the full
achingly cold mud puddles
Day-Glo orange Frisbees
scorch the long emerald grass
From the days when I drove taxis in the Sydney nights. When mikes were live and we talked to the operator. When we didn’t wear grubby uniforms and cash was king.
Skirting another peer group,
Avoiding another clique,
The party round continues as he left it years ago.
An attempt at a poem in the referential academic style.
You know, like the consumptive poets of previous centuries who seemed to have to make classical allusions in their poems. Taking the piss, really.
But it is a kind of love poem.
Returning home to no Penelope
I’m no Agamemnon
Armageddon leaves me for dead
Again the observer
I watch
Time’s myths unwind
Sad smiling Aphrodite
In limbo from Thebes
Homeless and humbled
Caught in Love’s plot
Down from the mountains
Lost to the sea
Facing the jungle
Bluestones of steel
Tiresias is learning
The price of sight
Razor sharp options
Limit his choices
Blinded for truth
A snake in the grass
Feels for his breasts
Gets it all wrong