The Sweet Breaking

Ticking clocks
Pensive stares
Soft furnishings
Stale airs
Kind dead eyes
Enquiring flatly,
How would you define love exactly?

Latin roots
Desire and care
(He strokes his whitening beard and stares)
Proto-Indo-European
Germanic high and old affection

He wrinkles his grey etymology,
Assails my senses with dusty tweed
And bookish curiosity

Well fuck,
I say nervously
Quite a lot of things let’s see

Far away right now I can see
A girl’s fingers busy fumbling and numbing
With a boy’s belt buckle
Their hearts are drumming
Simpatico lust curated by longing
Lust is love, or love is something

Elsewhere presently I see
A drunken shape slowly stumbling
Down a midnight garden path
To a lonely light bulb out the back
And a note bearing a biro heart
In love, stationary plays a part

Somewhere out there I envision
A couple in a sunbeam fools
For an hour
In a tower of pillows
Doing nothing much
But killing a deadline
And repelling an invading to do list
Although nobody expressly said it
Love is procrastination, a bit

Oh, now my mind is resplendent
With a child’s delight
Jumping and jiving in bedtime twilight
Waving sparklers and coloured lights
Objects the extemporaneous girl might receive
From some fatherly figure in on the ploy
To elicit in her this bursting-with-joy
Love is his face weathered and kind
Love is her dazzling, smazzling smile

You asked me to define what I meant by love
And I had a faltering go
But fellow, old man, dear therapist,
There are more definitions than you or I know

The Araboolies of Empathy Street

Does the General of Liberty Street have PTSD?
Did you think of that, Araboolies?
With your kitschy junk and your animal funk
You’re disturbing the General’s sleep!

Sure he’s a mean old guy
And the kids on the street have to hide
But you drove him out of his very own house
Not a chance of a compromise!

I don’t believe in baddies, do you?
Just folks who are singing the blues
So next time you encounter a face that is sour,
Stop and think about what he’s gone through.

I’ll Make Dinner When I’ve Finished Editing Your Smack Down Honey

You take verbage for granite
It’s from a whole nother planet
Let my pronounciation orientate
Let it perculate your state
Let my rhymes sooth ya
Do a Heineken remover
Your ordinance is ostensively miniture
I’m gonna take ostraya nucular
You went to the libary supposably?
Your lyrics prespire, depose of them please
Your point is mute the parlament voted
To be pacific what you got’s a tradgedy
Your granma and speling expecially
With my volumptuous rhyme
This triathlon bitch
I wan it