Flat White

Everyone thinks they’re a great writer when corona cabin fever strikes

26 April 2020

3:43 PM

26 April 2020

3:43 PM

Pandemic Poetry  

On isolation

How the hell do you spell pendemic anyway?
Maybe I should use a thesaurus, no that can’t be it
I’m not licensed to kill
I’m a writer, not a genius
Or a regular columnist at Saturday Paper
And I’ve never been invited on The Project
Which is their loss as I know more about how the High Court functions
than Peter Helliar any day
It’s like I’m stuck in the middle of a Francis Ford Coppola movie
Michael Scammell Redux 
Director’s cut
Without the smell of napalm in the morning
Or a Diploma in Professional Writing and Mime

Greta

But I have renamed her
Funberg
to make her more interesting to 57 year old men
Working in advertising
Wearing black t-shirts
And searching for their ideological Rosebud
The father they never had
Their climate dreamin’ causing
Furrowed lines across her brow
Like isobars on a meteorological map
She really does need to eat more

How I became a socialist

It’s easy they said
Just inhale
Find a vein
It’s such a rush
You will need to move to Richmond
And buy a loft
But there’s a safe injecting room there
A bike path
And property prices are down at the moment due to the COVID crisis

On the hospitalisation of Boris

My friend KB
Is nothing like Boris
But says he wants to be
If only he’d had more success
He wants to get involved in British conservative politics
Which he is unable to do
Because he doesn’t have citizenship
So now he is a gardener – but not PM
And Boris is a prime minister
A gardener of votes

But aren’t we all KBs
Failed hacks and gifted also-rans
Thoroughbreds in disarray except for our television remote
And new Foxtel menu settings
And the unused Filofax we once bought
When drunk
To impress a girl,
That we were serious about our careers, or something
I’m not really sure
Wishing we were Boris
Or Malcolm Turnbull if he wasn’t such a prick
Life is like that sometimes
Hand me the remote

On Malcolm

They told me Malcolm wrote a book
So I went to Westfield to buy a copy
But the policeman said that was not a legitimate reason to leave my house
And fined me $1750.55
Which was fair enough
His response was overly long, self-serving and annoying
Which seemed appropriate given the circumstances

#MeAt20

Some guy
I went to school with
Says celebs are posting photos of themselves at 20
It’s a thing, you know
Do you want to do it
It would be fun and is bringing people together
Like playing John Lennon’s Imagine on your old guitar
While standing outside parliament
During an Extinction Rebellion protest

Come on, let’s give it a go
And make the world a happier place
It’s better than that stupid thing where you name your Top 5 songs of all time

But at 20, I realized
My life was not yet digitised
A swirl of Kodak celluloid and grief
Dashed dreams and romantic rejections
Forgotten
And this made me feel sad
So I told him to fuck off

Michael Scammell should know better than this. He writes at https://mdswords.wordpress.com.

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