Dressed Like an Engineer

He's dressed like an engineer
No-one wants to talk to him
Unless he's fixing something

He's eating sandwiches
Cold beetroot and cabbages
Water still and floating berry blue

There is an epoch between
Each neat black mark stroke
Of the beige lunch room clock

But when he gets to the dance floor
Any band down the blackboard
Orders up his gin
Tall, with orange blood

It's the music, it's the music
Nothing really matters
But the music
Punters find his moves
Very amusing
But do they know him?
Do they know him?

Objects are closer than they appear
He's dressed like an engineer
The light is bending him

In the surface of a spoon
In the handle of his room
In a boyhood Berry tune on crackling transistor

Load bearing rafter splinters
Scent of kerosene in linger
Cutting his father down

A soldier's pocket book
Silent whiskeys, missing foot
He fought Nazis so the boy would never have to

When he gets to the dance floor
Always shouts for an encore
Well there is nothing that he wants more

Than the music, it's the music
Nothing really matters
But the music
Punters find his moves
Very amusing
But do they know him?
Do they know him?

~ Brendan Bonsack

Frequently, Kenneth

Oh, Kenneth
Well he still won't tell you
The frequency
Rather Rather Dan
Though he was the wrong man
Faces are strange
Far from the future

At its zenith
Well we all got a thrill
From the mystery
Contra cartoons
Evil weather balloons
People are strange
Though they're not so stranger

Draw the stars
Interstitially
Why are we so confused by love
I wonder wonder wonder it
And frequently, Kenneth

Oh, Kenneth
Sneaky peaking underneath
The ferric curtain rail
His satellite jams
In unmarked cans
People are strange
Though they're not so stranger

Lucky Ken
They never ever got you then
Your kilohertz
Bleeding colours into VHS
And no-one guessed

Draw the stars
Interstitially
Why are we so confused by love
I wonder wonder wonder it
And frequently, Kenneth

~ Brendan Bonsack

Up Against the Bell

Fretting over homework
In a burning world
Children in uniform
Loose leaf on the bus seats
Bag zippers yawning
In the crowded aisle
The glue still drying
Geography and History
Up against the bell

Bus driver didn't
Stop at my stop
They were zoning out
They were nodding off
Sweat on their neck
Tattoo of a frog
And I still love you
(not the bus driver),
Just the hum of it
All reminds me

Geography and History
Up against the bell
Children in uniform
Schooled in the gun
Zipper bags laid out
Before wailing moms
Are you still trying
Swaying in the crowded aisles
To get to work on time?

Bus drivers didn't
Stop at my stop
They were zoning out
They were nodding off
Invisible sickness
Inside of head
And I still love you
(even the bus drivers),
It's just the hum of it
All surrounds me
And I still love you
It's just the hum of it
All reminds me

~ Brendan Bonsack

The Snake and the Birdcage

I almost stood
On a snake today
Do I get seven years good luck
For not standing on a snake?

It was plying the grass
At speed, copper body
A shy shiny knife down among the seeds

And on a shaggy nature strip
Someone has placed a birdcage
With a sign saying FREE
There is no bird in it
There is no bird in it
There is no bird in it
As far as I can see

I remembered my snakes today
Red Belly, Yellow Belly
Poison Eastern Gray
Someone had stuck a pair of
Googly eyes on this one's face

It didn't seem to mind
Still a swagger in its slither, nearly silent scales of grace
But whoever, I mean whoever,
Could have got so close
To perform such a feat?

On the road, they come and go
The fledglings of the season
Learning how to feed
You could fry an egg on it
Fry an egg on it
Fry an egg on it
Even in the shade

And on a shaggy nature strip
Someone has placed a birdcage
With a sign saying FREE
There is no bird in it
There is no bird in it
There is no bird in it
As far as I can see

~ Brendan Bonsack

Hyperbole Sits

Hyperbole sits at the end of the bar
A sketchbook in hand
Scanned the QR
Waiting for something with oils and fries
Has not much to say

There's a fight in the street
Tangled dogs and their leads
And the red and the blue
Teams on the TV
Are doing their best
Puffing their chests
To keep score

Can we have just a little more?
The twentieth century left us sore
Now I don't drink but I'll watch you pour
Walk you home and say
Goodnight at your door

Hyperbole sits
One hand in the light
Loosening skin with a list inscribed
Peace in our time
But if all out if that
Then just get some cheese

There's a fight at the bar
A collapsing of stars
Even if it's just two
Of the minor ones
The heat and the light
The need to cry
Has to go somewhere

Can we have just a little more?
The twentieth century left us sore
Now I don't drink but I'll watch you pour
Walk you home and say
Goodnight at your door

~ Brendan Bonsack

Tuesday Orange Day

Cecile bakes a cake and
Puts a cassette on
It's a Tuesday orange day
On the cusp of a yellow
The C60 warbles warm
Under the pen

All their friends say
They're losing
Their beauty
But all of the evidence
Is to the contrary
Cecile doesn't believe them
That is no way to perceive them

Cecile licks a stamp and
Drops in a purple flower
Their bicycle
Creaks all the way
The C60 sings along
To spokes in motion
Cecile forgets the time so
Can never be late

All their friends say
They're losing
Their beauty
But all of the evidence
Is to the contrary
Cecile doesn't believe them
That is no way to perceive them

Cecile signs their letters
With the fruit of the day
Lemons, apricots and plums
Pepper your mail
Their C60 humming
Return me someday

~ Brendan Bonsack