new zealand electronic poetry centre
  
 

 

 Capital of  the minimal
G r a e m e   D o w n e s


Same Old New World
(G. Downes with contributions from C. Knox)


Arrivin’ late
Boss gets fired up, you’re too wired to wipe the smile off your face
Slave all day
Stock aisle nine with Weet-bix, Marmite, take the boxes away
Thursdays working late

The night’s OK, cigarettes and cheap red wine wash the day away

Muzak plays
Oh so quietly and politely ramming crap through your brain
Pension day
Drab old ladies bovine grazing magazines on display
Old woman’s day

Saturday, thrash the same old three chord songs all day

On day you might start a band,
Travel the world and hang with your friends
Or go on the dole and never work again
The benefits arrive and life goes on and on and on
And on and on

You're Kurt Cobain
Gender bending, speaker rending, you're in some kind of pain
Your bed's unmade
Ceiling's leaking, flatmates shrieking that your rent's not been paid

(Do you know anything,
Luck or loveliness,
The way you move among your friends
You cheat yourself of everything that moves
Just get a mirrored room
Invite the creatures of the moon and watch them dance the dance of love for you)

 

©Graeme Downes 2004


 


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Last updated 13 August, 2004