Paparoa's Blog

poor bare forked animal (King Lear)

take physic pomp
(no fault of mine)

tak fizzik pompous
(the earth is thinking)

fizzing cracking smashing Pompeii
(underneath a train is rumbling)

tak a tak smack a smack pom pom pom
(the world the world the world’s a beast)

take my hand it’s terror in paradise
(hold me see my heart’s a chattering)

tak phyzhik pomp thou art exposed
(the moor is heaving all’s at sea)

tak fizzik thou poor fork-ed beast
(the moon and sun at war with me)

fizzik Pompey’s good for thee
(I know I know the wretch I am)

poor bare broken thing
(my Lear my Fool my kingdom down)

after the tremor the neighbour
after the terror the stranger
after the stranger the doctor
after the doctor the soldier
after the soldier the looter
after the looter the vulture

after the horror the ruins
after the ruins the kindness
after the kindness the sirens
after the sirens the silence
after the silence the weeping
after the weeping the comfort

after the toppling the creaking
after the shaking the shaking
after the shaking the questions
after the questions the questions
after the rage and courage
after profound desolation

after the nurse and the undertaker
treasure contained in a glass of water

this fly
he circles and circles
me

it’s not just another human
disaster to him

in the compound world
view of a fly’s eye

it’s a business
opportunity

Woke up this mornin’ in my car:
Had the brain drain blues
From go to whoa, had
Some alcohol-enhanced grey matter
Running out my ears and off the fender.

Wow, that was one Almighty Economic Bender.
That was some Rogernomic Nine Day Wonder:
That was Trickle Down Theory blown asunder.
Kissing Ruth Richardson, boy you gotta be joking!
Down here in Helengrad the Fat Accountant’s choking.
Wow, looks like the boys from Treasury caught a chill
And the oil is burnin’ (at a price) all night long on Beehive Hill.

Days like this I begin to wonder is Roger Kerr the hair of the dog
That bit me, or just a random truck that couldn’t keep to the Left,
Crossed the white line and hit me? Lunatics ain’t just runnin’
The old asylum, they even look the part: they pay me zilch, they pay no tax,
They weigh me down with debt and break my back, then when I cut and run
To greener fields, they grind the poor for flour, and blame the wheels.

Yeah, woke up this morning with the brain drain flu, it’s one mother
Of a deadly virus, and the worst thing is, you just can’t believe
A word it says is true.

The beast in the coliseum snorts
and roars, paws the floor, stamps
its feet: no hope now

to catch a sight of the rare
Minnesotan Minstrel Jew. But din
from hell don’t scare him none: he flits

into the white hot maelstrom
of light and sound. I focus
on his tangled crest, note

the unusual adult plumage: long
black preacher’s coat, white
shirt at sleeve and throat, akimbo

stance on Kabuki mask. Listen:
from earth to high heaven, that
harsh hillbilly snarl and wail

of the Dylan crow
at the height of his powers
showers my sense

with harmonica bars. Neck
hair prickles. I blink
and he’s gone.

come with me
there’s something I want to show you
how not to tell a story

you don’t know these friends of mine
in this fishing photograph so I won’t
bore you with my stuff

except to say the way these six kids stand
together with an eel on a pole under willows
on rocks is possibly like some old forgotten

black and white snap
of you and yours when you were
five seven or twelve you know

the kind of memory zap we get
when the boxes are cleared and sorted
after one of us kids dies

and there beneath the dust
of years we are back again all alive
and kicking with at least one

fishing story in common or maybe
two the hungry thousands up in the hills
the men on the beach

on that first unbelievable Sunday dusty
rooms you can’t forget our parents
singing in the church next door

.露の世は露の世ながらさりながら
tsuyu no yo wa tsuyu no yo nagara sari nagara

this world
is a dewdrop world
yes… but…