Barracuda, Lemon, Whale

By Paul Baden

Dance with the Flower King. Swim with the Whale. A jazzy book of contemporary poetry about the way we live now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359040339

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Barracuda, Lemon, Whale

Barracuda, Lemon, Whale

Copyright © 2018 by Paul Baden

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Dedication

To Joy

My sister and friend

I

Song of the Sonophobe

Another night of bouncing bass, acoustics and soft explosions

rumbling through the dark from some yobs with cars and woofers

Wrap me around you bedside fan

let me drown in unmelodious hum

anything but the beat-beat-beating of moon-soaked cymbals and drums

Not a hope

of course

Sonic umbrella faring the worse

and I crouch in my bunker earing the bombs

'til at last I’m blown to sleepareens

But the mumbling undulations follow me still

needle my dreams and freeze me ill

‘til I melt into morning a mess of cold sweat

an eye on the clock daring it to tock

I’ll kill the fuckers

Only I won’t

Who’d complain in a place like this?

An alien with his head on wrong

A sonophobe from the planet prick

I’d be marked forever as a mad git

ranting and raving about a bit of song

Music’s fun!

Get with it!

What’s up with your ears anyway?

Nothing much, which is all the worse.

(You know they have you

when they have you wishing

for an eardrum burst)

When I looked upon a Car

Oh, prim witch, can you not uncrack your smile to make a sale?

Your fault-lined face jagged and spiked

Did no one oil you up today?

The clickings in your head buzz dry

What inner static stiffs you so?

(Why did I come here anyway? All metal and wheels and shine. Suffer me the steel-laden air...)

But wait, Judge Jaded, my inner wretch,

what causes this riff, this nasty bass?

As if her face forever frowned…

But maybe, in a lick of