Visionary, editor, and publisher poet, Oscar Sparrow returns to the fray to fashion words into his own unique take on the world. He has a new venture The Virtual Cafe, you can also visit on Instagram.
More hopefully from the talented Mr. Sparrow soon.
All
Yesterday's Tomorrows
Karl
drives a sky blue zephyr zodiac,
big
and bold with wings like rocket fins,
on
the hunt for flying saucers.
The
urgency of Giant
Steps
spurs us up to Dartmoor,
driving
toward A
Love Supreme,
with
dreams of Adamski scout ships,
as
cool as Coltrane.
We
are on the moor, riffing off our dreams,
to
see the earth from space,
chat
with an alien, out there on a tor.
Or
a cigar shaped mothership above us,
that
would interrupt all electric fields.
Which
of us though really believes?
Night
descends.
A
clear, starry sky,
no
strange lights,
we
see no saucers.
Inside
the car, mid note the music stops.
Cassette
tape ribbons in my hands,
then
it's the death of jazz.
All
the silent way home.
When
he had fallen off that wall,
and
his eggshell fractured,
shattering
into who knew how many pieces,
the
soldiers made the mistake of looking inside his head.
An
army psychiatrist was hastily summoned, then a second.
They
conferred while privates jigsawed fragments of the shell.
Ministers
met to compare alternatives,
naturally
the King, who was bank rolling the rescue mission,
was
told in private, in hushed tones.
Suddenly
everyone in the loop realised
why
he had given Alice all that attention.
They
were agreed, there was only one solution.
So
a water cannon was called forth from the barracks,
and
the streets were swept clean of Humpty Dumpty.
I'm not sure the ending there yet with this one. I see it as a more of a performance piece and I think it needs to be spoken a couple of times before it gets there.
Here is a too brief clip of John Martyn and Danny Thompson.
And here's more John Martyn, the superb BBC4 documentary.
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