Bar-B-Q
Bar--B--Q is being developed just for fun as a multi-voice multimedia
performance piece. It is hoped that different reading voices can be recorded,
multi-track edited using digital sound software and produced in surround
sound. Visual footage may also be added such as super eight footage converted
to digital video, along with video and stills. The sound track would be separate
from the visual track and the visual will not provide a literal illustration
of the spoken words. While being imagined for digital multimedia the text could
be compiled for a variety of platforms including film, video and live performance.
nations with self appointed high rank sweep across
landscapes with pioneer planted flag's far off claims
inventions belch to air industry's footpath doings
there is no world that is to be invented by minds of men
that's what we are told so when the barbecue lights up
big arguments rage and i become part of the living world
into a world where dead men tell lies cool love words burnt
by fire and i want to flee where there are no rules to learn
to measure street's cruising angry minority speech into my
life so cheap fifty dollars a visit and one fifty makes it
yours for the night and for life a picture of you
on the bare wall above my bed
he looks for a four leaf clover
when he finds it he'll hand it over
and be off again
a stone tumbles and spins
rough edges polish to gemstone finish
it's not the romance of the heart
but the romantic endless road
which leads our man astray
in the end he finds an empty world
of wealth to re-invest which never
can be passed from father to son
his mortal remains rot as the words he breathed
are said to rise and sit with the right hand
rights and wrongs do gooders aspire with faith long lost
left to slander
the little respect
left over from pride
and the lost hopes of liberation
blighted by war torn dead
what rights do they speak
memories are gone of childhood beach days
and surfboards tied by elastic ropes
in high summer flesh burns
a watery blister red
and wonder at those things our nocturnal moments
filled with boy adventure to nurture our insanity
we have no innocence now narcotic
visions indifference forgotten monuments
bells no longer toll even a muffled ring
redundant memories silent neurosis
the first time he grabbed my cock
a feral beast my child's cock
and the memories
papers curl in the acid sun
crumbled personal archives
asked to shoulder a kind of manhood
heavy coffins push into shoulders
i have not seen the funeral parade of our dead
not even in mock
concrete made he crumbles to dust
white heat shoots through him
he was bullet proof indestructible
(so we thought)
shooting it out with the best of them
on the fifty second floor executive nest
boardroom level fast deals in washrooms
installed with surveillance device
(voyeur's delight)
fifty two levels of executive playrooms dust
granite slabs falling apart at want for a
world told in ancient rewritten greek myths
don't bother to dream it'll only be torn apart
corporate future plans of explosive growth leave
us folks alone just long enough to talk
loosely of future's empty history
the superhero an outdated machine
try turning the clock back it won't
go forward anymore and i don't know
how to tell you the world is on fire
we're all gonna die it might sound too much
but the price is right mister executive
you'll be ash before long inside cold steel
and the super hero jerks off on power
in cubicles of executive washrooms
and young men melt diamond hearts
a guard of honour to pass through
molten tempers scorch skin burnt
flesh smells death there across
a small gap in time touch its sensuous
tingle and bounce high up on the frets
of electric guitar erupted gas bubbles
farting in broken still water baths
refracted light virtue's image bent swimming
in pornographic chatter in waters in a well where
a virgin prince washes sweat from dusty brows soaked
in labour torso naked ready to drop pants
no spectacular story in mythology and legend rooted
to flourish in heroic deeds sighted over paranoid shoulders
late daylight walks on stretched beach sand to a grain
winking love to ensnare modern hercules
playing songs of men teaching trees to cry
dropped fine porcelain breaks thin glass splinters
hurled against concrete walls i cannot
be likened to fine tea cups or champagne flutes
a common beer glass of shatterproof plastic in
a late night bar dropped to tiled floors and
hurled at concrete walls i'll not fall apart
(for you)
in the city at a building's facade standing wanting
yet not able to enter there are no people anywhere
is this a city laid bare by neutron bombs leaving
(vacant possession)
laughter cuts defiant streets bounce
ccjones@ceninternet.com.au
Chris Jones 2002-03-08
