New Podcast

Fairy Steps



Butterfly pumps padding the sidewalk
In my self-imposed bubble of thoughts.

I can see them; muffled voices mumble
As I trundle along with an unwritten objective,

The rhymes chiming in a jumble of thoughts,
Machiavellian ampu-taunts behind this downward gaze.

Where’s the bloody script?
The ranting’s encrypted and bound in Jezebel’s bra…

‘The trailer’s being towed for a blowjob on Sunset Strip
by a whore who pays her clients with her husband’s credit card’,

While the begging question rolls in with the angry sky,
Just who IS paying for this crap?


As the director spits on my cheek,
Spots polka-dot the pavement, Bambi style,

And a pound is dropped from the left,
Slowing down the reel with a matrix fashioned mind-fuck.

A single glimmer of gold sears through the gloom
Arcing, triumphantly, imposing it’s high pitched clink,

Sending a dozen petty thieves scuttling
With the juggling overspill that vomits down the drain

Before the water soaks through to my toes
And the silence is louder than the tyres hush

And I keep moving as everything shuts

And cut.

By Kiersty Boon 2009

4 thoughts on “New Podcast

  1. Now in the olden days when it was all fun. I would have said that is post-avante and cupercool. Framing the scenes, outward expanding context, rhythm and so forth used to lead the reader’s mind into little expectations which are fulfilled or not and you get a little mini drama. We used to think that was cool, back in the modernist days. All you can hope is that people actually read it before they judge it.

  2. Well, you know I get nervous about offering interpretations but that is of course a silliness on my part. The serious nature of the situation you describe in this piece really resonated with me in the written word. The podcast version seems to give a more optimistic flavor to the ‘cut’, as though the shackles have been rallied against and thrown off.

  3. I agree with you Brad. I think that’s why I called it Fairy Steps because if you don’t try giant steps you have time to readjust, stay calm, take it as another moment rather than another life. Saying it out loud makes a difference to the poem – the music changes it. When I read Bus Ride at the last Horseplay, two people said how different it sounded without the music – more dramatic and angrier. It’s nice that the poems adjust to their circumstance… and I think also it stops me being too much of a weirdo depressive with them, haha.

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