a nice suit (for a peddler)

September 30, 2009 at 6:45 pm | Posted in australian poetry, memoirs, poetry, writing | 10 Comments
Tags: , ,

something purple with lapels, flares and sharper angles,
a little abrupt but if you write a parody only to reveal how little and
surface is your knowledge of your subject then you shall be exposed
to ridicule from the gallery, vegetables
rotting which later can be gathered
and fed to the beasts
lurkers in silence most discrete

it was a foul and pestilent land
and one i am proud to have abandoned
and left ruined in my wake he said turning to me the scent of salt fish and speaking french i think originally or dutch these europeans, one never can be sure.

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  1. rotten tomatoes hurled at annie lennox singing ‘..travel the world and the seven seas evrybodyz lookn for something..’ knowledge is indiscrete anyway especially since one can never be sure. cool poem salty and sea ring
    Thankyou. Indiscrete and indiscreet, Tipota. I like that song, thanks for reminding me.

  2. i love the lurking beasts feeding off of thrown rotten tomatoes! such an outcast place to have escaped.
    It is indeed, Mrs Ott.

  3. Love this poem, including the sonics in those last few lines.

    (Btw…I’m new to twitter and I tried to follow your blog after coming across it the other day, and I just saw that you had blocked me. I can’t for the life of me figure out why.) ;-(
    Thankyou. Sorry, I blocked you because so many people have followed my twitter and protected their own so I could’nt follow them back. I’ve instituted a policy that I give them a few days to let me see what they are tweeting and if they don’t I block them (protect my tweets from them). It’s a security policy, kind of like The Man Who Loathes Whispers here, silent lurkers give me paranoia. Thanks so much for stopping by and your comment I shall unblock you immediately, sorry.

  4. I prefer peddlers, she says, at least they are honest about the polished surface of these lingua franca objects they are trading for a shadow smile or a promise…Old things were built to keep company to a lonely, lost woman like me… untold stories, untaught fables…
    -Don’t mind her sir, says the escort , she’s a chatter…
    Haha, that is cool, Ana. Care to join us at the Captain’s table, Madame?

  5. I must have missed your request somehow. I protected my posts because as soon as I signed up I had a rash spammers wanting to follow me,and I really just want a low key existence. Totally understand the paranoia – I think it is the only smart approach. Anyway, thanks for helping me learn, and I look forward to following you. ~Lori

  6. I just love this, the shape, the language, the images, the sounds, as a whole it just flows wonderfully.
    Thankyou, Ms Squirrel.

  7. Ah, the gallery — it’s sometimes an art gallery, sometimes a peanut gallery. 😉 As always, you’ve written an evocative poem, rich with meaning, a buffet for thought.
    Thanks, Thomma Lyn. Hopefully the fruit at the buffet is fresher than that in the poem.

  8. Very perceptive (if not a little negative) but as you know all perceptions are coloured by the viewers own experience and are therefore only perceptions and not the truth. You have the ability to create a great scene and atmosphere – duck! here comes all those rotten vegetables. I love the ‘salty’ references scattered about in your work.
    Salty old three legged sea dog, Gabrielle.

  9. I am such a child. I want to comment but I don’t know what to say! Your picture with words is so concise. I am wondering what color purple, but I think we’re supposed to see the first purple that pops into our heads …. Love Gabrielle’s comment above. And now I’m wondering what the truth is, in addition to wondering how a poem works.

    Well one would not wish to be any more exposed than one is when wearing a purple with flares and angles, though you make him so lovely and human that I would adore him anyway.

  10. Amazing new sideways man up top.


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