scarecrow poetics/essays

Tuesday, February 28, 2006


There Is A Tune...

There is a tune (pause)
I am a note you can not mark upon
Yet your blind folded brain,
Withering wafer like wit, turned sour...

OOPS! She's just sculled' the curdled litre
Her mouth now fountain, projectile missile
Alas she is a putrid hose... Alas she is a putrid hose
She is a putrid hose

(repeat) Yet your blind folded brain,
Withering wafer like wit, turned sour
Draws you to strike a blade where it hurts or
Annoys or simply peeves my patience OR I pity you

You want to paint over the blue sky?!
You want to erase the sun?!
You want to seize the stars out of the night sky?!
Annihilate the moon?!

Niagara is NOTHING! compared to
Earth's tears

Fools, who are not really fools have simply just (pause)
Given up there tools of humanity
Fools! Accidental tourists; zygote accidentals...
Ohhh the patchwork planet, will we ever learn?

I'm a gutless wonder, talk and think, don't activate my drive desire
I just contemplate (pause) and drink, reaching high fantastical plains
Of a wondrous existence, in my minds eye.
SOMETIMES! fantasy and reality copulate, procreating a NEW production
Thus I am induced with an atomic ecstatic insertion to give birth
To a new life form, that I think shall always only begin on paper
NOT in the embrace.
(pause) I can always destroy my poetical procreations and simply start again.

Chance always calls... often beckoning

I reach...
I reach not far enough

I try...
I try not hard enough

Chance keeps calling me!

I bang my head against the wall, careful for no blood yet at the same time
Wanting the swell to break, just because I'm angry... angry with myself.
Nohhh, I wouldn't write in blood with my finger tips. There wouldn't be enough anyway.

You know what to do, act on it.
"Do what you wanna' do, be who you wanna' be, yeah"...

Why can not you fly?
Your brain consists of an imagination
Use it! (pause) Wings (long pause)

Oh I've had a hellovaday'!
In fact I've had a fucked day.
In fact, it's a fact I was fucken' fired today.
Therefore it's fair that I take the fact that I was fucken' fired today
Out on you!

Oh really (pause). Well you see I think this is where I really! penetrate your front door
Do not vomit on me. Your crap of a dour day has not a scrape of shit on your shoe, to do with me. I want to make you feel better not worse. FOOL!

I! not perfect

Get with it!
- Get with what?
Get with the program!
- What program?
The human behaviour program!

(accent strine) How many times have I told you?!!!
How many times have I told you about EMPATHY... SHARING AND CARING...?!

(end accent strine) Or are you simply a being where spite and cynicism
keeps your engine running as you gradually rot inside thus dying a premature death?
Or just a breathing sultana, grumbling in regret of all the things you coulda', woulda', shoulda' DONE! before you became a BREATHING SULTANA. Perhaps you are a breathing BITTER sultana, contemplating revenge in your old age?

Wanna' turn the clock back do ya'?!

There is a tune (pause)

There is always a tune... and I am
A hog for pleasure not to mention

There is only one way to use the lint remover... (unless you wannit')

I am not perfect... well of course I am not perfect

Why not?
(angry) LOOK! It's a long story...
Come over to my place and I'll make you the best banana smoothie in the whole entire universe...

(demonic and distorted voice from nowhere in particular) "Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't half cock your life, whole cock your life".

Cathy Flower © 2006.

Australian born, Cathy Flower has been writing and performing her work for the last fifteen years, enjoying the colour and conviction of poetry from her page to the stage. In 2002 she launched her debut CD of performance poetry, entitled 'Meniscus'. CD No. 2 is in the wings alongside a hard copy volume of her poetry and visuals. Cathy loves the oral induction, taste and mind altering pleasures of coffee, chocolate and (fine) red wine.


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