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| The Final Vinyl | |
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on vinyl (CD forthcoming, Wollongong)  |
you remember records you got drunk with the lyrics of the lyrics of the lyrics of what I mashed potato itsy bitsy vinyl ring scratched sister argued needle needled groove and stolen stolen records that were stolen (!) you can still do a hard day’s night (th album) in order A to B (these more civilised times there are no sides dadah humph dadah humph to understand dadadah humph to understand but I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel you were talking so brave and so sweet giving me head on an unmade bed the prickle skin surf hungry thigh snatch parched lipped silver fingernailed surfin safari and the first time you heard mahler but your first record a 78 was Only You not the modern version Can make the world seem bright Only you with the brass stylus and wind up gramophone and Annette Ottie Can make the darkness light Ballerina in glasses and bedsheet Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do Seems funny now we never thought of that And make (run down) Wind the handle again. Only you. I think you’ve got the idea. Can make the world seem bright Thank you Annette and goodbye Only you make the darkness bright (run down) At least I had my books and my poetry to protect me I can’t get no satisfaction I am sealed in my ar ar ar mour I can’t get no sexy action and I’m hiding in the contradictions of adolescence lay lady lay,lay across my big brass bed I touch no one and no one touches me put on your high heeled sneakers, Suzanne walked me down to a place... your mother never suspected too much to understand why, for example, did Angel of the morning, angel have to Just brush my teeth before you leave me baby? tiny rebellions, Bobby Magee, that we could do wah diddy diddy understand mixed with the books of poetry Yeah Yeah Yeah but when the swell cum cum comes up come on baby,surfin safari and come on baby it’s a surfin safari whose beach brown salt skin you could bite if only he’d let you portable players that Gidget had in beach movies our sand filled with oiled bodies and waxed surfboards Sad eyed lady of the lowlands lurked in the melaleucas leaning from the wind it’s bits of a thousand cultures bitten on to your flesh and it’s always sort of a melancholic sunshine there you secretly plan an album to be called “Melanoma Beach Girls” and you compose Country & Western love songs in the car drivin’ west It makes you wanna shout No! Stand by your man, and while standing by your man, he played straight to your brainstem anodyne slobfest heartache snitch that he was love crept in like manure under the door you made it up yourself, independent recordheart producer sing amalgams of songs you don’t even know mixing it: Donovan out of Burke and Wills Backyard does Australian Contemporary C&W - a jazz musical: I was drivin through the Murrum bidgee Irrigation Scheme when My Baby He Done Me Wrong that somehow turn into Beatles records Oo-ooh darlin’ please believe me, Here I stand, head in hand turn my face to the wall. And it’s: Nowhere man.Paperback writer, paperback rider.Until He rode into the night, accelerated his motor bi-ike, I cried to him in fright - it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to cry if I want to cry if I want to you would cry to if it happened to you. it’s no fun (Oh but I’m lyin’ baby) with a laser CD and as the final vinyl skims across the azure sea You age.Middle Age. Old Age. New Age puts the wind up you there’s no escape so ... Come on baby it’s surfin’ safari come on baby it’s a surfin safari let’s go surfin now salt in your hair lick your skin sister on the run the boy fresh flesh on vinyl sofas Let’s go surfin now everyone’s surfin now come on it’s a party with me. [Wipeout]
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Biography | Poetry | Essay: Poetics /Kinetics | Résumé | Copyright |
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