NOOSA - You’re leaning back after a few Christmas Day jugs saying to yourself ‘my work here is done, I can skive off for a bit’, when suddenly a long absent presence storms the inbox.
It has a name and its name is Patrick ‘Big Pat’ Levo, scion of the Gulf crocodile eaters, plantain procurers and sago suckers. Not to mention buai bashers.
Reluctant as I was to receive this missive from Big Pat on the birthday of Jesus (or, indeed, any day at all), I could not help but see that it contained a pome (poem) written in pottery (poetry).
I remarked to myself, because no one else would listen, that this was more than passing strange, it was high speed and reckless overtaking of strange.
A strangeness that begets a sudden and nervous, "What the feck is going on here".
So without further ado, as the man said after his 45 minute introductory speech, I offer you the blank verse of Big Pat, if not Papua New Guinea's leading journalist then surely its tallest, and wittiest:
Greetings oh merry ones,
may the angelic harp of Saint John's harpoon you,
with thy faithful tunes of Christmas by the fyfe,
that you may be merry and blessed,
as you feast on pork & boroma,
you teller of feisty legends,
roam on wild and unfettered.
your dear friend in the river
--- saint patricio
To which I saw fit to respond, under the pseudonym of Keith the Ugly in order to best disguise my true identity:
Greetings oh lost and begotten comrade
Who ditched high class living for the swamps
Now do you yearn for what was left behind?
A small bribe to plant a story benign, on page 9
A free feed for a minister’s pic (girlfriend absent)
A trip to Australia for a conference meaning nothing
But no, you are not a man of disrepute
You are a spirit of high thought and passion
A man of the clan who understands your kind
Who can see a place that is better than you know
Who espies the flaws like a dog espies fleas
A true man of his people, not a man of cardboard
That’s it, you can all go back to bed now….