Sinister: Performance! Picnics! People! Poetry! Parrots!

[Robert Brennan]

Sunday Morning:

Robster sleeps off a large weekend with a head of fun
memories.

*BZZZZZT* says the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Po_t_y P_r__t"

"I don't any portly pirates.  This is Portsmouth not
Penzance"

"Just let us in you cloth-eared muppet!  And get your
intercom fixed."

Pause for stair climbing which is odd because I
thought he could fly.

"That's better.  Got any crackers?  Oooh!  Hollyoaks -
fantastic!  You look knackered by the way."

"Yeah.  Been up to London - saw B&S at the RAH.  They
played an absolute blinder but I'm not gonna go into
it here since I'll probably write a more detailed
review on my website http://nicerspace.tripod.com when
I can be arsed to get around to it.  There's bound to
be loads of reviews on Sinister anyway."

"Urgh!  You're on that list of saddos?  S'pose you all
had a bit of a picnic.  You do that sort of thing
don't you."

"Oooh yeah.  I saw Struan playing football and
everything.  I'd better say hiya to everyone like
Carsmile, Ken, Ailsa, Honey, Linda, Carey, Vel, Sam,
Hannah & loads of others I've forgotten.  And I'll
send huuuuge thanks and massive props to Starry and
Lixi for sofas and Weetabix and to Phin for Saturday's
entertainment.  Hope he's feeling OK."

"Sounds like a bundle of fun.  Is that the kettle
boiling?"

"You character's changed the last post."

"That's 'cos you project too much in your writing and
then treat it like some big literary joke.  Bet you
read that Dave Eggers book with a huge grin on your
face while he went 'Look at me!  I'm so tragic and
talented!' for 300 or so pages didn't you?"

"Well..."

"Thought so.  Hurry up with that tea will you.  You'll
probably want a poem too.  Bet it'll be some
unreadable beat shite that you liked when you were a
student."

"Yeah!" 

"Ginsberg then?"

"Cool!"

"Wanker."


NIGHT GLEAM

Over and over thru the dull material world the call is
         made
over and over thru the dull material world I make the
         call
O English folk, in Sussex night, thru black beech tree
         branches
the full moon shone at three AM, I stood in under wear
         on the lawn-
I saw a mustached English man I loved, with athlete's
         breast and farmer's arms
I lay in bed that night  many loves beating in mt
heart
sleepless hearing songs of generations electric  
         returning intelligent memory
to my frame, and so went to dwell again in my heart
and worship the Lovers there, love's teachers, youths
         and poets who live forever
in the secret heart, in the dark night, in the full
         moon, year after year
over & over thru the dull material world the call is  

         made

Allen Ginsberg 1973


Right.  I've sent the Parrot packing.  He's flying off
to...  Ken Chu!  He needs something to do with his
free time.

And with that...

Robster


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