Friday, 29 December 2017

Extract from 'BARBARITY': On Bourke Street

The blue sky is a forlorn face
With fleeting frowns of grey smoke
Cigarettes smudge under expensive soles
Hungry seagulls await their donation 
Patient like homeless men

A pigeon exploits of a tree its nest
Like humans build 
Of those boxes of concrete 
Their opulent homes
Trees dispel their leaves
Like angry mothers
Abandoning their young

Two street musicians
Busking on a busy track
Heads askew 
A burden on unhinged shoulders
Untamed hair 
Obeys ferociously
The dictation of the wind

Distressed clothing
Unclean boots, untied laces
Fresh- shaven faces
A thirst for beer

Gold and silver currency
Shimmer under the generous sun
Lie scattered atop 
The red velvet lining
Of a yawning guitar suitcase

A mobile audience
Judgmental and restless 
Affluent men forging their influence 
Bourke Street or Wall Street
Finders, keepers, capital rules 

People who charge after trams
People who flee from them
People who enter and exit the mall
Tall men with short character
Short men with short tempers

A folk with a fedora 
Struggles to assimilate 
Into a hatless crowd 
People who people the city
For the city’s sake

Uniform buildings
Primitive architecture 
Black and white flags
Flung in the air
Claim their territory 
For David Jones

One musician takes a break
The other goes on solo 
An autopilot
Stomps his feet
To the rhythm of silence avoided

The retired musician 
Surveys his assembly
He sends his hand to the forefront
An umbrella for his eyes
Saluting the sun

Upon Bourke Street
Satisfaction lies 
But within 
The red velvet premises