Blonde

There’s something about a certain type of blonde
That gets under my skin like a Celine Dion song
Something I can’t quite put my finger on
Something a little off in the interaction
Something that puts my teeth on edge
Something that makes me want to push her off a ledge
Something that puts my back up high
A chilly something in her eyes
Something that begs for a slap in the face
And a sign for let saying Vacant Space

Babel

I know the heat of the fires of hell
In fact I know them very well
The devil sits just down the hall
Job bags build an enormous wall
Kind of like the Tower of Babel
I’d throw myself off if I were able
My boot sole snapped when I got to work
The power that be is a total jerk
My foot is aching, my head is too
There is no toilet paper in the loo
I’m sitting grafting all alone
Screw this, I’m going home

Missing

Has anybody seen my mug?
I had some tea in it ‘cause it keeps it hot
I might have left it somewhere and just forgot
Has anybody seen my mug?
It’s just a humble little mug
It’s not great looking, but it keeps things hot
And my mum gave it to me so I like it a lot
It’s a yucky sort of green with a picture of a lion
From the Kruger Park. I like to think he’s smiling
If you’ve seen him lying sadly all alone
Please bring him to me so I can take him home

A wounded soldier

Luke, a boy aged four
Came racing through the door
An ice cream held on high
His eyes upon the sky
And not upon his speedy feet
And a slippery spot upon the concrete

So Luke went flying through the air
Mum and Dad could only stand and stare
He landed hard upon his arm
We thought he hadn’t come to too much harm
How wrong we were in retrospect
But not for a moment did we suspect

Two days passed in silent pain
We thought perhaps he had a sprain
But in the middle of the night
We had a horrible, awful fright
His arm had swelled to twice the size
It was time our diagnosis to revise

So Mum left the cricket at half time
Got her car out of a den of crime
Small boy was stowed inside
With a blanket, a story and a porcupine
We made it to Sunninghill ER
Had to double park the car

We rushed in and sat, and sat, and sat
We looked at this and we looked at that
There were no seats in the waiting room
So we sat in a corner made for a broom
To the sound of babies’ painful cries
Mothers with utter exhaustion in their eyes

Doctor Hutton called our names
He’s helped me out before, with older brother, James
Amidst the chaos he is a veritable angel of grace
Calm and sure and pleasant with a smile upon his face
From the moment that he entered, I knew it was OK
And Luke would climb the monkey bars again one day

Thanks to huge bills I now owe
Luke is confirmed as having a fractured elbow
His arm is hung up in a sling
To teach him that it not wise to take wing
When one is not a little bird
But a small boy with the last word

The Morning Show

I spent this morning at a radio station
For which I have the utmost admiration
Our client sponsors a stupid sports joke
Quipped by very funny oke
We trooped inside the little booth
And were rudely awakened to the truth
That as chilled out and cool as these guys appear
They’re fucking stressed out when they’re off air
Every single thing is timed to the second
And not as ad-libbed as I always reckoned
Every comment is a double entendre
I don’t know how they do this everyday
My head hurts from keeping track
Of one-liners that roll like water from a duck’s back
They get to work round about four
Imbibe two cups of coffee at the door
That’s round about the time I turn my head
And burrow deeply into my nice warm bed

The epic tale of the Pearson wedding

I packed the car and got ready to go
It was time to get the show on the road
Then the geyser blew up and flooded the house
I cajoled and I reasoned with my furious spouse
I called upon the emergency plumber
Who came over, checked it out and said, “What a bummer”
Marc, the spouse, said, “I’m not leaving today”
I said, “Over my dead body do we cancel this holiday”
By the time we left our nerves were frayed
Neither of us like to be delayed
We arrived in the dark to a mountain retreat
To relax, chill out and get something to eat
Chill out we did ‘cause it was Artically freezing
And I couldn’t stop constantly sneezing

We piled back into our poor old car
And followed the rising morning star
We bid civilisation goodbye
And rode off into the untamed Transkei
We passed a sign “133 curves to go”
They weren’t lying either, I happen to know
Each hairpin bend hid cows and lifestock
Enough bad driving to give a taxi driver a shock

Now nobody said the place was urban
Hell, if we’d wanted that we’d have gone to Durban
But nothing prepared me for a trip to the Spar
I’d say a euphemism would be bizarre
Think taxi drivers with trolleys instead
Aiming at your feet and attacking your head
It took years off my life – a bit near-death
With little space to even draw breath


We arrived relieved at Cremorne Estate
And the boys went off to buy some bait
Some stinky sardines that smelt totally rank
And we sat to fish on the riverbank
We sat and we sat and we sat some more
Who knew fishing could be such a bore
“Close you eyes, mom, I got a cool surprise!”
Can you guess? I got a fresh fish eye!

So the Lexi and I went off for a drink
Leaving the boys with the aroma of fish stink
An hour or two passed with no sign at all
When through the dusk came a clarion call
Which my instincts were to largely ignore
A small boy loomed through the gathering gloom
I felt the keen sense of impending doom
Small boy number 1 was coated in clay
Like some bad Just William cliché
I scrubbed him down stood him under the shower
Getting him clean took over an hour
Which left just the remains of his muddy shoes
Dirty footprints and the faint smell of ooze

By the time the bridal couple checked in
The groom’s mama had already complained of the din
From three small peeps who wake up with the birds
And cannot fathom how they could be heard
We popped open a beer, lit a big fire
And tried to escape the parental ire
Now Matt and Ross from the groom’s side
Had a cunning plan which allowed them to hide
From any unwanted social interaction
And avoid embroilment in any family faction
The bride’s brother avoided the whole situation
By taking his girlfriend off on vacation


Friends and family came for champagne
They came by plane and car and train
Seb and Claire left the London spring
To arrive in weather cold and raining
Sam’s US folks drove down in a manual car
When they’ve only driven an automatic so far
Bonnie and Russell arrived with flair
To find their room keys were not anywhere
Despite all Sam and Andrew’s fears
Their families happily cracked open some beers
And Seb caught a fish of which he was proud
And carried it around and around and around

We took our family to build castles in the sand
And passed an octopus from hand to hand
A herd of cows looked on in bovine bonhomie
As I tried not to shudder and stifled a scream
But Lexi and I spent a happy few hours
Building mermaids and crabs and fairy princess towers
The boys and their Dad found all kinds of stuff
Shells and pebbles and unidentifiable bits of fluff
It was about then that I became a believer
In what Sam refers to as Pondo fever
The complete lack of regard for the hours
A burning desire to stand still and smell the flowers
(Or in my case then be sent on a mission
To steal rosemary from behind the restaurant kitchen)

In flagrant disregard for the law
Which is anyway fatally flawed
We procured some crayfish fresh from the sea
Crawling around happy and free
They scuttled about the back of the car
Sending me running straight to the bar
The kids looked on in morbid fascination
As we drowned them in the kitchen basin
After asking our fellow wedding guests
Which cooking method would be best
Marc decided to surf the net
Looking for a better bet
It was pretty damn gross and made one hell of a mess
But they tasted divine I have to confess
Now Andrew’s method may have lacked class
He stuck a feeler right up its arse
But it certainly worked to remove all the poo
It was simple and effective, if unnaturally taboo

Now the wedding was a day away
And we’d done nothing but eat and play
So the men went off to cut down trees
To make the wedding setting pretty
Sam and I went off to some friends of her folks
Where they sat, drank beer and had a few smokes
But Sam was a bride on one hell of a mission
To conquer the overlocker her overriding ambition
It took a few goes, but soon she was sewing
And the pile of silken scarves was growing
By the time she was done she’d had enough
Of making small talk about all sorts of stuff
I’d said to Marc, “Don’t worry I call on my cell
To ask you fetch us once we’ve said farewell”
Sam suggested we walk down the road
As her patience was about to explode
So she picked her Samsonite suitcase and started to walk
That’s when we realised the cellphone did not work
Two white girls from Jozi out in the bush
The suitcase carried, dragged and pushed
We walked and we trudged about to give up
When at last the network signal went up
We made our distress call and sat where we stood
On a spot of sand and a piece of wood


As the sun laid down her weary head
I empathised and went to bed
At some point I thought I had a bad dream
About a fire and a shout and a piercing scream
Come morning a nightmare was not to blame
Sam’s honeymoon suite had gone up in flames
The room was gutted and white with ash
Lives had flashed before eyes in a dazzling splash
Thank heaven the dress was not in the room
Now the wedding was coming really really soon

On my way back from perusing the mayhem
A call came in that was really a gem
My humble abode back in Joburg city
Had been robbed leaving it pretty much empty
Okay, so that’s a bit of an over-exaggeration
But poetic licence is my vocation
Short of throwing myself off a cliff
I did the next best thing and rolled a big spliff

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear
The bride then realised the moment was here
Worried that she might make a bolt
Along the beach like a galloping colt
The groom moved the wedding from four to three
Which left one hell of a job for me
And the two other bridesmaids to get the bride
Dressed, made up and into her ride
Thanks Mr Jack and Mr Cuervo
Without you we’d never been ready to go
Admittedly without you she
Wouldn’t have to run off to pee
Instead of walking down the aisle
Where the groom had been waiting for quite awhile


Now Scott acted as one would expect from a brother
Like a filial example of the classic den mother
God help Andrew if he ever makes Sam cry
Cause Scott would give him one hell of a black eye
Sam’s dad looked awfully cute
All decked out in monkey suit
Bonnie, the awesome mother of the bride
Stood beaming and filled with maternal pride

With the sea breaking upon the sand
The bride and groom at last held hands
The best men stood with their umbrellas
The groom was a truly lucky fella
The rain fell down like diamond dew
When he said to her, “I love you”
The vows took the spinster off of the shelf
And were quite nice if I say so myself
By then we were wet from top to toe
No bride was more keen to go
After a hot shower and jeans
And that bride type of gleam
Samantha Pearson seemed to shine
With a ring that said quite clearly, “Mine”

Seb, Claire and I made up the wedding bed
With a heart of flowers and petals up the steps
Claire hung a banner and a load of balloons
We put champagne and wedding cake into the room
It soon became abundantly known
That the wedded two wanted to be left alone
So we left them to their consummation
And went on with the wedding celebration


We left them at it and hit the road
Only 133 more curves to go
Now I’m back at work hard at the wheel
And have to admit I’m starting to feel
That a shack on the beach with a pencil to write
Could just be my ideal kind of life
Meanwhile Mrs. Pearson is having a swoon
Every couple of hours on her honeymoon

Studio Time

Friday afternoon in the studio
Waiting until its time to go
For the bar to open and the wine to flow
The desire to work has hit a plateau
Bronwyn’s being serenaded with Beatles karaoke
Theo’s singing sounds like a demented banshee
Christina’s cracking jokes, Marais is cracking up
There’s not a single, goddamned, clean coffee cup
Someone tore the fridge door off its hinges
Which upon our wellbeing heavily impinges
There’s no hot water, the coffee machine’s broke
To top it off I’ve run out of smokes
The toilet seat in the ladies
Has been broken once again in two
Ah, fuck it – tomorrow I’m going on leave
It’s as though I’m likely to grieve
To escape the chaos and dip my toes
On a beach somewhere that nobody knows
I’ll see you guys in a week or two
Bet you wish you were wearing my shoes

Disarray

A fortune lies in golden disarray
Lit by the fading light on another dying day
She walks alone in a breath of air
They pass on by unaware
A goddess walks amongst us still
Caught ‘tween the chaos and the still

Her treasure hidden beneath the deep
Locked in a silent dreamless sleep
A new moon rises in the sky tonight
Her lips shine softly in its gentle light
A fire burns in the depths of her eyes
A comet blazing through a midnight sky

He will never know the taste of her scent
Or lie in her arms weak and spent
That dream has passed and its shadow stains
The secret places where love remains
I watch her from the window where I stand and wait
For a white knight that will surely arrive too late

Schlock

I sat my head between my hands
Confused by the ever shifting sands
Beneath my feet and on my brief
This client destined to bring me grief
I've looked at their old CI doc
Waited for inspiration to knock
To no avail, so I
Borrowed the SAT CI
I've written some copy for you to insert
I pray there's not another revert
For I've thumbsucked this schlock out of the air
Although I'm pretty sure you don't really care
Anyway I'm going to go away
So it won't be my problem come next Tuesday

Empty brief

Yellow envelopes have multiplied
In chaos 'cross my desk
Renewal packs and thank you notes
Give the wicked little rest

In the plethora of yellow
I have yet to find
A letter welcoming me
For the very first time

Should you have a copy
of an AA welcome note
Please send it my way post haste
before I miss the boat

The Ode to the Black Sheep

You harbinger of evolutionary advance
You renegade against the stagnant status quo
Oh, Ovian herald whose blackened countenance
Dares where others will not go
What courage is born within your noble breast
To take the road less travelled by
And put those less certain to the test
As one who never walks if he can fly?
What different drum that guides your errant path?
What beat unique that drives the beating of your heart?

Burning Man

He burnt to death they said
No tears of grief they shed
But anger boiled up strong and true
Amongst his loyal and trusted crew
Four daughters and wife
He left behind in this life
And those who should stand by them now
Have abandoned the premise of their vow
He deserved it, they whispered desk to desk
No-one deserves a death so grotesque
No-one should die screaming in pain
No-one should die their life in vain
He was a good man and like us all
He suffered one dreadful fatal flaw
And in one final ill-thought deadly deed
He died in a blinding flash of speed
But those who lived to tell the tale
Fall like vultures on every small detail
Those who drive after too much too drink
Who have looked death in the eye and given him a wink
They are riding on stallions eleven hands tall
A haughty spirit comes before a fall

Atlas

This oppressive weight crushes down on me
Atlas stood his ground unyielding
My muscles scream at breaking point
Choke on the tears that stream into a pool at my feet
And a rainbow rises in the air filled with promises it can’t keep

The men on the chain gang sing as they raise their arms
And batter the very earth with their melodies
A taste of freedom on the open road
The shackles an iron reality unrelinquishing
They cut into the softest skin and draw the reddest blood
Leaving sticky footprints on the tarmac drying in the sun

I see the pity in their eyes as they shake their heads as I pass
They wonder how I came to have a starring role in this farce

Dry Run Blues

Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
Wish I had a Zanor in my pocket on standby
On the list of popular people I am way down low
Cause there ain't no way they'll make me wear yellow
There's a flock of little butterflies swarming in my tum
Thank god the kids are being fetched by my mum

My CD is working on a top secret mission
Putting me in the unenviable position
Of sitting through an interminable dry run
Not exactly my idea of having loads of fun
I'm tired, irascible and starving to death
But I'll be here til I draw my last breath

Some slick client service serpent
Will need to repent and repent
For throwing a frothy I really resent
With threats of imminent unemployment
He'll paying for it don't fret
Like an elephant, I never forget

Looney Tunes

Looney Tunes
Looney Times
Warner Bros nightmare
Fucking insane deadlines
Beret wearing above the line
Creative nemesis

Little Acme anvils raining from the sky
Keep me leaping from toe to toe trying to get by
My neck is getting sore from looking up too long
Waiting for the piano and my last and final swansong

My meds have run out
I'm running on empty
Adrenaline and caffeine
40 odd cups of tea

Screw Alan Carr and his well meaning book
I need another smoke in a hidden little nook
Where nobody can find me to drop another bomb
I'm having a breakdown with remarkable aplomb

Buzz, Buzz - Your Dead

One buzzing bee
Sat on my knee
One buzzing bee became two
And soon a hive was in my loo
Buzzing, buzzing everywhere
In the bath and in my hair
I tried to do the humane thing
And set about the task of smoking
The little buzzing blighters out
To no avail it didn’t work
Busy bees their work don’t shirk
The beeman came last Thursday eve
To persuade the Queen to up and leave
But she’s a stubborn little girl
Without the requisite forehead curl
She refused to even budge
So the Beeman had to give her quite a nudge
All this while I stood quietly reeling
At the extent of her palace in my ceiling
Fair means or foul I made my stand
You could say I finally showed my hand
Simply out, she had to go
Which is why I called in the Beeman Pro
He nodded once, he nodded twice
He killed a thousand bees with one device
Now my bathroom is as silent as the grave
A memorial to the all the bees I tried to save

It's a chick thing

“Please excuse me, ladies and gentlemen
A personal emergency has arisen
That requires my immediate attention
And as such a timeous conclusion of this session.”

It’s hard to keep a professional demeanour
When your underwear has committed a misdemeanour
To smile while a knife appears to be embedded in your flesh
Where your underwiring has escaped through the mesh
Of your expensive French made designer lingerie
Leaving your cleavage in lopsided disarray

Keeping with a smile firmly on one’s face
Begin desperately seeking any sort of place
That might sell a lady’s brassiere
From this day on I’ll keep one spare
In my car, my bag, my desk
To re-render my figure statuesque

It could have been worse I could surmise
My panty elastic could have expired
And I might have fallen to my knees
With the sudden intrusion of a chilly breeze
You see, instead of all this tiresome whining
It’s always best to find a silver lining

Happy New Year

It’s the New Year and I’ll back at my desk
Already thinking that I need another rest
I had two whole weeks in which to do nothing
I lasted three days before I had to do something
So I painted the kitchen, my hair and my nose
I put all my books in neat alphabetised rows
I filed all the paperwork from years gone by
I danced for hours under the summer night sky
I trailed around from store to store
And still the kids’ schools demanded more
Glitter and pens and forgotten school stuff
Until quite frankly I’d had enough
Now I sit here at my trusty keyboard
And although flooded with work am insufferably bored
I want to jump up and down on the trampoline
Spend hours watching old movies on the silver screen
Why is it that the time slips so easily past
I wish I could make the moments last and last

Bees

There was a buzzing near the rooftop
A sound that drew my eye
Up to where the window meets the wide blue open sky
Mi casa is su casa for a hive of honey bees
It would have been polite for them to ask please

I am a modern woman of independent means
I do not run away from trouble screaming screams
No, I closed the door upon my unwanted house pests
It was time to evict them, my ears deaf to their protests

Three small interested parties stood waiting patiently by
I told them clearly not to enter and never their mother to defy
I must not have said it loud enough for not 2 more seconds passed
Before small boy aged four opened that door pretty fast

I need not tell you what occurred
He cried out like a little bird
I laid the phone to Bee Removal 101
And called instead Bee Medical rescue 911

In some weird twisted work of fate
I have a family member who thinks bees are great
She said to me to smoke them out
That it would work without a doubt

So I fired up the Weber and lugged it up the stairs
I caught those busy little bees completely unawares
I thought that this was the opportune time
To fill in the absent husband of mine

“Good God!” he exclaimed as I explained the plan
“Please tell me you didn’t and called a bee man!”
“Well, actually. Honey,” I purred down the phone
“It’s currently in process and that’s what happens when you leave me alone.”

Despite his extremely negative prognosis
I did not burn the house down in my bee ridding process
It still smells of smoke, but the bees have moved on
And I basked in the thrill of a battle well won

Now a week down the line I not so sure
That a fire in the loo was a failsafe cure
The bees are moving back one by one
I think the next plan is to buy a big gun

By Alex aged 6

Once upon there was a cheeky little monkey
Who played a funny trick on me
He saw me walking down the street
And snuck a banana in front of my feet
As I stepped, it went squish
I landed right on my tush
My feet in the air
Banana everywhere!
That naughty little monkey laughed until he cried
He laughed so hard he nearly died
He laughed so much he didn’t see as I put
A ripe banana in front of his foot!