Hades Shopping Paradise Inferno

I am lost in the Halls of Hades the screaming radio bubble gum blur of a suburban shopping centre

I must find a secluded sanctuary

Far from the mezzanine meat market (uurhh) with its madding crowds of mincing heels and strutting mascara madonnas

I seek solace in the quite lavatorial restroom

Behind closed doors there is muzac lilting softly overhead

~ Brown girl in the ring tra la la la la ~

Standing apparently normal and posed at the gentlemen's pissois

I find a talkative companion

A kindly man who precedes to quiz me regarding the whys and wherefores of the most advanced tap in the world

Yes, *%@#! that which we hold in our hands (!)

And further quizzically inquiring as to whether I think somebody would have designed such a thing

Such flowing words of wisdom could veritably become rivers of gold

And quick to catch a whiff of the lurid smell that is rising I bark 'Sir I am not a creationist

Hit with a quick retort of something along the lines of

“Then you'll go to hell”

Then my return volley of

“I won't be going to hell mate, especially not if you're gonna be there! “

And here I fantasize upon the concept of brutalising an almost complete stranger with a rather heavy volume of some religious text.

Well may you unload your extensive length of dogma

But I won't be choking on your product placement

I make my hasty way out of the corridor, fast becoming some metaphor for the halls of hell

I turn the corner ironically into the ever so conveniently placed and stylishly decorated multicoloured food hall

Almost finding myself arse up on the floor after nearly slipping on a carelessly discarded strawberry ice cream sundae

Huh. When did you last get taken out by a tasty treat ?

After all this the mere mention of a quiet cup of tea at grandmother's sounds so appealing

But the frenzied buzzing of suburban rush hour traffic being what it is I retreat to the apparent tranquility of the coast and find myself sipping a a sundae under bounteous pine trees alive with a cacophony of screeching birds as the sun sinks slowly closer to the sea

As my fortuitous luck may have it one never knows who is just around just around the next corner...

I lift myself from the dreamy bed of fine white sand near the water's edge.

Leisurely I wander along the path under the shady trees when a young man floats by in a world of his own.

A cigarette hangs in deference from his fingers.

Surfboard in hand.

He wears mirrored sunglasses with blue plastic rims. Boardshorts. Bare feet.

A hoodie tracksuit top trails behind him,

hanging only from his head,

Flowing around him almost in a swirl like a cape

As he staggers in and out of an almost aimless circle a

And nearly takes out my right nostril with the tip of his surfboard.

Ha ha …! Miles away.

I have nothing to say and continue walking

Keeping myself to myself.

“What's that ? Eh?! Too good to talk eh mate!

A bit of distance now between we two disparate individuals and from about 50 metres behind a screaming cry bellows out: “ Yeah fuck you ya fucken cock sucker!!”

Oh, stick it up yer ass like grass ! says the little voice inside my head

And seriously now wondering what I fell out of bed for

The time is nigh for that cup of tea at grandma-ma's...

 *       *       *       *   

There's nothing quite so exciting as a freezer full of frozen bread

Staring within

Like the visit to the pantry

Or opening the fridge door

Searching for some inspiration

Though nowhere near as futile as rows of graves

Fork lines dragged on skin

Or modelled emaciation

I want to unleash my teeth

Or maybe explode upon you

But stand here

Night light and the cold simple lines of polished and worn floorboards

Super fatigue

Is a sub conscious self induced shut down

Here I am asleep awake

Let the machine rest

Let the mind rest

Let seas of awareness wash over the crystal sands of time

This  Job   is  Bliss                      (or I trip out on msg!) 

I'm going to cook up a storm in the Tinee restaurant  

Cooking up my special dish of rubber band noodles and sticky tacky 

plasticky prawn crackies 

Mr Icky Foo Googly Goo wack me over the head so I go gong and fall 

down bong 

He whip me with a rubber chicken 'til my teeth stop smiling 

He spy on me doing my business my recreational reading in icky toilet 

He open squeaky door " meoww "

 

It sound like cat...

Then he throw vegetables at me for being naughty boy 

"What for you doing choking your chicken in pissy room lavatory? 

You think I pay you to get your jollies on the potty? 

You go wash filthy dishes filthy boy! 

I give you big smacky wacky so you be good!

Me no like Mr Icky Foo Googly Goo 

Him nasty man with spatula 

He chase me round and round kitchen 'til I get dizzy 

I put Ratsack in his chop suey 

Him fall over go all different colours of the rainbow 

Me put him outside in rubbish bin 'til he turn pink again 

Him not happy - him very aggressive 

Me put super sticky tape on rubbish bin - much better! 

 

Now me go on big holiday 

Me take lots of money 

Goodbye Mr Icky Foo 

Thankee you very much ! ...

*   *   *   * 
 

I found that photograph of a tropical sunset silhouette over reef

With jet stream streaks in the sky

I turned it upside down

And got an image of sea ice beneath a clear Arctic sky

Rarefied air

The crystal blue atmospheric haze

In my mind's eye now

I see you there

Hanging from a chopper

Camera all rigged up

Warming it's battery beneath your armpit

Bringing the machine back to life

Fingers struggling to co-operate if ungloved for too long

Another captured image fills my mind's eye

Ships off the coast

In a blazing silver sun haze

Circling

Social islands...

Answers coming in between the ocean lines

You and I

Again I question the connection

Momentarily distracted by telephone canvassing

A dismembered query breaking down the phone wire …

My deeper self snarling like a cornered dog

As I cut off on the verge of saying fuck off to slam the phone 

down

And bring my attention

Back to these surreal and serene images spattered on this 

crystal wall

 _______________________________________________________________________

POP 

Your eyes were staring skyward well before your death, 

laying on your bed all those years

Perhaps others saw only tones of death in you 

but I sensed humour in your ways

Almost rhythmically each day around mid afternoon you would

hobble from your room to peer face on at the clock and quietly

announce "It must be afternoon tea time"

And slowly make your way with the occasional cracking bone to the

kitchen

To sit side-on at the table awaiting Nan and afternoon tea.

It was usually a quiet affair

Staring vacantly into space as you chewed on a piece of fruit cake

or slurped a cup of milky tea

Features of conversation might be acknowledged with the

occasional "Yeees..."

Your odd quirky fart would make Meghann and I giggle. Nan would

show no reaction.

I still remember you springing me leaping for joy on the lounge

room couch one day, swept up in the euphoria of Play School.

"Well, what's all this then?"

I cowered in fear. I was often scared of you.

You moved through the house almost like a spectre.

Skeletal and ghostly.

I turned back halfway through a road trip for your funeral.

I remember looking over your body.

Your face like that of a still-born bird.

Pale and fleshy.

The undertakers had touched you up to make you look more

serene.

But still, I saw little pain in your final expression.

"He died peacefully in his sleep." the others said.

Looking for your grave in the cemetery months later I found a small

plaque grouped with many others in a side garden.

Almost overlooked. Almost indistinguishable, inconsequential.

What visions had you seen in your life?

Mum said you came out on a boat from England as a little boy.

And through your life suffered the straitjacket of a Victorian

upbringing.

Up in Morawa you ran the local store with your brothers.

Later you worked as a school bus driver.

Mum said you really enjoyed that.

Your eyesight began to fade and they said you had to leave the job.

That's when your depression began, mum said.

The beginning of a steady decline.

We were visiting you once in hospital.

They were giving you electric shock treatment.

Mum said I walked for the first time.

A bizarre confluence of events.

Picturing the situation now I begin to cry.

Perhaps that's why you would make those occasional quiet shrieks

alone in your room some afternoons.

Were they aftershocks years later?

Rude awakenings disturbing your tranquility.

Punished for what? Being a human being?

We had a good talk not long before you died.

I'd been to Darwin and we talked of your time up there on the

airstrips during the war.

Thinking back now, I recall those rare moments when you would

come to life, or your humour would shine through.

Dry and cynical - not even trying to be funny.

After some visits, mum and I would laugh when we'd remember

your comments.

I see your bony features in me.

And wonder who I am.

How I verge from the family path.

Or how I could risk becoming stuck on it.

I fear my soul aging.

I wish that my soul transcends time and generations.

Not to go into the afterlife unfulfilled as yours may have.

Men fade into the Australian landscape.

You were another one.

I feel I hardly knew you when you were alive.

But a part of me thinks of you now

and understands you more than then.