Friday, January 14, 2005

In time with the sighs

Farking blogger's done it again... I originally posted this as an email THREE days ago - it not only did not arrive, but got bounced as well! Argh!
My old ally the sun shines sparkling through the upright green whisperers
Blue infinity braces itself against the soft white drifting air
Sighing softly, she sings sweet shining breaths
As the leaves high upon the sky clap slowly in time with the sighs.

The shooshing of worn sandals against the black weathered pathway
Never ceases to turn, yet steadily onwards they climb
The steep riverbank to the crest of our rise, unhurried
By the strains and stress of the normality in daily anxieties.

Small gray lizards hide hurriedly for cover, scurrying
In the soft whispy undergrowth alongside the fenceline
Untroubled by the bigger-picture of worldweariness
They snooze about for leftovers, unfazed yet secretive.

The air breathes in leaves' sighing whispers
And small ducks nose searching the freshly-mown grass
For special gifts of fresh feed, unhurried by the roar
Of unwelcomed intruders that squeal by uncaringly.

My river sparkles golden, kaleidascoped by thousands
Of leaves dancing freely in the sighing air passing.

"Walk Home", Maljam (c) 2003


The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous

The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues

The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming she moans, "I've just been made"
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
Says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"

Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison"

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues


Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"

The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saving, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken"

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues


The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves
Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends them out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he burns out their camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues


The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter

Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues


Where Ma Raney and Beethoven once unwrapped their bed roll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks home and the college

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

Mama's in the fact'ry / She ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley / He's lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen / With the tombstone blues.


"Tombstone Blues", Bob Dylan © 1965, 1993 Special Rider Music.

On This Day...
Born: Slim Harpo (muso, 1924).
Died: Thomas Hardy (writer, 1928).
Events: 1st time British women granted the right to vote by the House of Lords.
Useless Trivia: 'Lipograms', a form of verbal gymnastics, are written works that deliberately omit a certain letter of the alphabet by avoiding all words that contain that letter.
My Soundtrack:
'Rubber Soul' The Beatles
Footwear: bare-ass butt naked still!
Weather:simply glorious, but hotting up http://www.weatherzone.com.au/local/local.jsp?obs=94729&fcast=94729&img=radar&rad=003&pcode=2795

There was a young poet of Trinity
Who, although he could trill like a linnet, he
Could never complete
Any poem with feet
Saying, 'Idiots,
Can't you see
That what I'm writing
happens
to be
Free
Verse?'

Cyalayta
Mal (ie. Mallard d'Quackers) :o)
Email: mal [@] maljam [.] cjb [.] net
Message Board: http://malboard.cjb.net

"If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it's the light of the oncoming train." (Robert Lowell)
"Excuse me, which way is the stage?" (Audience member, lost at Altamont, 1969.)
"For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" (Outtake ending, 'Dr Strangelove' 1963)
"Phew!." (Eric Clapton)

1 Comments:

Blogger The Lone Pen said...

Well Mal, be consoled by the fact that you are not the only one. Blogger should be renamed Bugger for just now - because my email posts have done the same. What is weird is that I sent two posts at exactly the same time the other day - and they arrived a day apart on my blog. Of course, by that time I'd retyped them anyway so there were two versions of each entry on my blog. Grrrrr...

I presume there must be a glut of new bloggers that the system can't cope with. Let's hope they sort it out soon.

January 16, 2005 7:53 am  

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