Chris: Loved Sweet, Sweet Name
esp. >(Leave her alone
>Or know fire and brimstone)
I had fun with this, as I grew up in Ettalong Beach NSW in this atmosphere.
The Sounds of Perfection
Hello midnight you old devil
come to drink with you again
had this vision last night of my mind fermenting
left black holes while I was sleeping
and the picture that was left in my brain
still remains like the sounds of perfection.
In dark alleyways I walked with mates
graffiti scrawled on every gate
beneath the shadow of a lemon tree
I pointed my willy to the paling fence
when my peepers were suddenly blinded by the flash of a cop's car.
Then we split the night and headed next door.
And in the neighbour's door I saw
hundreds of people maybe more
people laughing without thinking
people drinking without thinking
people cracking funnies that others had never heard
and no one cared about the people next door.
'Cool!' said I, 'Do you all know
parties prevent cancer growth.
Hear my voice, read my lips - you might learn something,
take my tinnies to the nearest fridge.'
But my words like noisy ramblings fell
and faded into the blast of rock 'n' roll.
And the people partied and partied
to the new age of rage
and the stereo belted out its awesome warning
to the music it was forming
and the DJ said:
'The snags & meat on the barbacue are ready
and the tables are loaded with salads and buns.'
Echoes - to the sounds of perfection.
Helen Hagemann
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