APEC In Sydney

APEC

They have made this world so safe for us
That every time they meet
They travel with security
And never walk upon the street
So, now they are in Sydney
Behind a high steel fence
And like rats within their cages
They will talk about defence
And things like climate change they will discuss
Within their compound’s walls
Their safety is their main concern
While ours is not at all.

poem by David Keig
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Feathered Wings

Was i ever someone that you could call your own?
was i ever somewhere that i could call a home?
was i ever crying and you my tears would kiss?
was i ever freed from this painful loneliness?
was i ever tired and you would wipe my brow?
was i ever worried and you would tell me how
we could both fly on feathered wings and soar to heights unknown?
is it that surprising that i should feel alone?

poem by David Keig
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The Nerd

I'm really quite a mad man
I'm so impetuous
I wear conflicting colours
And like singing on the bus.

I really am a rebel
I never do things right
I talk too much at parties
And play music loud at night.

I really am outrageous
There's no limit to my fun
I even finish crosswords
Before others have begun.

For i work with computers
The future i have heard
I really am quite tasteless
In fact i am a nerd.

poem by David Keig
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Fibonacci!

F.i.b..o…n…..a……..c…………c…………………i
i.b..o…n…..a… …..c…………c…………………i
b..o…n…..a……..c…………c…………………i
o…n…..a……..c…………c…………………i
n…..a……..c…………c… ………………i
a……..c…………c…………………i
c…………c…………………i
c……… …………i
i

poem by David Keig
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It's Quiet Now In Kansas

We had Taliban for breakfast
and then bin laden broth
some muslims ripe for dinner
i couldn't get enough
and then some koran crackers
for late night nibblies
we were hungry after dinner
and craved idolatry
next day we ate the holy pope
and while we were in rome
destroyed the sistine chapel
and then we headed home.

Its quiet now in kansas
its quiet on the news
now i really really must insist
i click my magic shoes.

poem by David Keig
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We Were Waiting At The Station

We were waiting at the station
For we had a reservation
For some time that we'd spend on our own
And then all our plans for travel
Did immediately unravel
When someone shouted 'you're wanted on the phone'
It was our great aunt alice
Who without a trace of malice
Said the children should not be left alone
So our brief weekend of passion
Went quite quickly out of fashion
We kissed and sighed and then walked slowly home.

poem by David Keig
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Glyndebourne

Cucumber sandwiches there on the lawn
soft English summers down at Glyndebourne.

Stage sets designed by David Hockney
slow summer evenings with some Earl Grey tea.

Driving slow back in the darkening light
narrowing lanes, the glow from twilight.

Magical music, clipped grassy lawns
these were the times when the day i was born
seemed special and sacred and all that could be
was whole captured by that one pot of hot tea.

poem by David Keig
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Sub-atomic Particles

I dreamed i was a neutron
inside an atom's heart
surrounded by electrons
their force pulling me apart
i met a pair of bosons
got assaulted by some quarks
found my quantum levels jumping
when something made me start
could i be sure of all this?
in my subatomic world
or would statistical mechanics
introduce a kind of blur
of uncertainty to all things
and so it wasn't clear to me
if i really was a neutron
or just a probability.

poem by David Keig
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The Little People

Every culture tells us of little people living
We've discounted such mythologies
Without for a moment giving
Any credence to such tales
We've seen them as pure fables
Now little people fossilised
Have been found and it seems that man is able
To develop into different forms
Not just the form we've taken
For a different evolution makes
These tales no longer fancy
So let us celebrate folklore
It will surprise us what we can see.

poem by David Keig
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Mrs. Murphy

I’m sad, Mrs Murphy, I’m sad
At a time when I should be glad
I’ve got me a wife for the rest of my life
So why sad, Mrs Murphy, am i?

I’m shy, Mrs Murphy, I’m shy
Now I guess you are wondering why
On my wedding day I confess that I’m gay
That’s why shy, Mrs Murphy, am i.

I’m bad, Mrs Murphy, I’m bad
That’s the reason I am so sad
Last night with the boys I discovered new joys
That’s why bad, Mrs Murphy, am i.

poem by David Keig
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