Yet More Thoughts

It’s a funny place an old man’s night

It’s a funny place an old man’s night
Funny peculiar I mean
Here you hang, tangled in all the might-have-beens
Things that now can never be done
Rapt yet in ended conversations
Smothered in kisses now trapped in dust
Together with the lips that gave them
You bang your head against your recollections
Of your own stupidity
Held captive in the intangible hold
Of a spectre boat
That sails across the emptiness of a sea of sameness
Until becalmed
As a tainted ship upon a tainted ocean
Then finally –  you sink deep
For no discernible reason
Into the twisted, troubled respite of sleep

The Lust For Power

Yes that is the way it is
Money is your god
Because it gives you power
Your measure of all things
So as you speak
I hear the stock exchange bell ringing
With approval from your lackeys
But your lucre is filthy
It colours constantly your thinking
In a plague of self interest
So every day is a marketplace for profit
Where affluence dictates your deeds
And finance decides your destiny
But be aware of this
You may rule my world
Where I live, what I buy, what I learn
Whom I serve and whom I obey
And who my enemies are
One thing stands supreme
Just a gentle axiom of wisdom
A ray of hope
A mirror of survival
A vision of destiny
A ray of light in troubled darkness
A fragment of music amidst discord
You will never
Ever ever ever ever ever
Decide which person or cause I will vote for


There it is
The black brute
Fiend beast ogre devil savage
Cause of war
Cause of climate change:
Tempest flood fire and drought
Cause of rivalry and deceit
Fuel for kakistocracies
Tainted with duplicity and trickery
Almost sacred in its influence
And still
A substance that reeks of disaster
Come with me
To share its dark history
Any agent you choose
To illustrate
The cataclysms it has caused
From fiasco to catastrophe
Oligarchs in the United States
British tycoons of shame
War mongers of Japan
And others too
Around this troubled world
Competing defeating cheating
To seize the market for oil
The folly leaps out at you from the history books
Troubles your mind
Invades your vulnerable purse
Invoking screams of rising frustration
So where does this lead us?
What is the destiny determined by this substance?
More warfare like Iraq?
More illicit markets?
More global warming?
More teeming profit?
The answer to these questions
For the good of humanity
May well be, as one last sanguine resort,
Electric engines

The Prison Industrial Complex

Contrary to the well known saying
Crime pays…
As with the military industrial complex
There’s money in it
For the chosen few who lobby
For approval
To help them go into business
With their privatised gaols…
For them
Unlawful acts
Leading to imprisonment
Are lucrative events
Profitable in many ways:
Prison construction
Food for the prisoners
Guardianship costs
Prison attire
And lessons for the guilty
All of these aspects of internment
Are linked to the income of the venture
And make the dividends flow
Felony leads to thriving commerce
A vast income
Stockmarket plausibility
Entrepreneurial success
Achieved with political finesse
With all the hallmarks of valid enterprise
Yet what of the prisoners?
How much of the profit
Of this massive enterprise
Is devoted to crime prevention?
How much
Leads to education outside the prisons?
Which invites one final question
That begins:
What shall it profit a man…
The task of finishing this enquiry
Is left calmly and confidently to the reader


Memories are unruly things
They disturb the peace at the oddest times
Catching you unawares
And not always to bring joy
And yet
In spite of this
They are an important part of your preset self
They help you live again a moment of triumph
On an otherwise bleak day
Or they may be a reminder of a folly
With a painful outcome
And you are careful
Not to travel on the same pathway again
Joy can be another outcome
A love you once shared with someone dead
That lives on in your heart
Despite the pain of present tristesse
A lesson perhaps from school
Or elsewhere
That has made you more aware of things
And gives you confidence in yourself
Here I am now
Alone with my computer
Rifling through thoughts of the past and present
Something has just happened
I’ve had another thought about memory
From me a simple soul
Still alive
Yet humbly thinking about my eventual demise
At peace
And remembering so many friends, loved ones
Even foes
Yes so many memories
So many people
And yet I am left with one fervent, passionate wish
That somewhere in the minds of that memorable crowd
Will be a memory of me


Wayward Thoughts

Quod erat demonstrandum

Ode to a media personage

Look at you
You cunning deceiver
Artful falsifier
Sharp-witted monstrosity of the airwaves
Choosing to question
Whose answers you already know
Questions flow from your lips
Like drivel
From the mouth of a circus monkey
Trained to make purposive mistakes
And so the show goes on
As you post the trash
For the sake of your own political agenda
Not in interrogation
But prompting
The messages you desire
Distortion of the truth
Support for the untrustworthy
False scruples for the unscrupulous
Sham ethics for the unethical
And repute
For the disreputable
But note this now
The themes of your memes
Define your reputation
As it lingers around the dark corners of deceit
That will haunt you
As you fade inevitably into ignominy

Voice In The Wilderness

Racist icon
Babbling away
With your non sequiturs
Gathering support
From the small minority
Just enough to give you a place
In the parliament of fools
How you rant
With your false allusions
That are really illusions
Whose crime is to be foreign
Who take away the jobs
Of the righteous others
Black people
Who divide the nation
With their pleas
To be treated as human
I hear you
As you speak on air to your fascist allies
Raving on
In your immoral quest for power
Ah yes
You seem successful
You, sheltering
Behind your democratic rights to speak
And yet I know
That what you say
Will eventually fade to silence
Simply because of what you are


That sounds interesting
A tale of woe
That gullible people like to know
A fairy tale told by mortals
Not pixies
A calculated deception
Designed to get attention
And make money
For the wanton perpetrators
Born of imagination
Served up with vehement audacity
To promote a sinister cause
For the credulous to believe
And act upon
In devious calculated ways
As a profitable outcome for the conspirer
So lies are dressed to kill
To warp reality
As a means to bring gold
To the cunning teller of fairytales
The scheming fabulist
The twister of reality
Dipped in the sauce of perjury
Until wars start
Rebellion haunts the streets
And chaos
Harnesses the power of evil-doers
As justice dies a pitiful death

Play On Midas

Sport it is a blessed thing
From Pole to Pole
But overcome
By entrepreneurs
It plays a questionable role
Money is now the reason
Sporting heroes play the game
Profit is thus the consequence
Of all your sporting fame
So look at that if you please
Lucre is the stupor
In the war we call competition
That motivates each trooper
Victory is essential
For investment to find fruition
Winning builds your balance
In the thing we call a bank
While loosing is disaster
That leaves your pay a blank
Come on down to the pitch
Where heroic deeds are done
So that corporate giants grow rich
While the obeisant mob has fun
But remember, yes remember
While the moguls count their cheques
Ordinary folk like you and me
Are riven by the hex

Tossing And Turning

I had a dream the other night
Everything was restless
What a powerful revelation!
The way dreams are
By your semi-conscious state
Frightening too
In the nature of an exposé
Spectres tumbled out of my mind
An identity
Suddenly came into view
In that chilling vision
A monster revealed
Cunning, clever
Calmly pitiless
He writes tales to start a deadly war
Influences political decisions
For his own financial gain
And infiltrates all lives with lies
For his own ends
What a monstrous entity this was!
In that torment of my sleep
Grievance oozed out of that incubus
Until I awakened
How glad I was it was but a dream!


What Do YOU Think?


You want to build weapons
More powerful
Than we could ever dream of
Vast devices linked to fission
Perfect in every way
But O so costly
Not millions but billions is the prediction
So someone must be inspired to pay
Though what is the point in a peaceful world?
Of course, yes
Enemies are needed
So devise them, contrive them
Then stir the witches’ brew
With the spoon of twisted reporting
Devise tales to spread fear and anxiety
Spin to the right of you
Spin to the left of you
And everywhere in between
Next create tension linked to fear
As you twist that misleading recorded news
According to a plan
Politicians can then sound the false alarm
And so the wheels of warlike industries will begin to turn
With approval from the misguided populace
As those masses cheer
Reacting blindly to the carefully crafted fable
With tragic ignorance
That’s it then
Mad-dogs are barking
And something is wrong with the world

“Eternal Patrol”

April 10 1963
Nuclear submarine lost at sea
Pride of the nation
Latest model
Finest technical proficiency
The fastest
And quietest submarine of its day
A masterpiece of its time
Advanced weapons system
Missile equipped
Complex technology unmatched by foes
Whoever they might be
O can you see now
How the best laid plans of men and mice
Can falter
And fumble into disaster?
There it was
An ego trip to its creators
But esteemed as perfection
Yet failing
As man made things
So often do
And resting now
In a watery grave
Radiating death
For a half-life
Of too many thousand years

Never to be decommissioned
And said to be on “Eternal Patrol”
Thus manned by 129 ghosts

Jobs For The Boys

O how lovely is war
It makes the wheels of industry
Run faster
Even when a threat
Is merely implied…
Is so profitable
When the dogs of war
Sniff danger
And then bark loudly…
Jeopardy can be a blessed thing
For assembly lines
Even though it exists
In the minds of military industrial magnates
Blessed with weaponry
That is then turned into mission statements
So let us rejoice
As we arm to the teeth
See those dark satanic mills surging
Nice, nice
Look at that:
A dozen industries bursting forth
In the name of hypothetical conflict
Blessed are the makers of the instruments of war
See those shares multiply
In the market where lies are bought and sold
A golden upturn, upsurge, upswing
All a result of disinformation
Menace is the magic catalyst
So spread the word loudly
Find a threat here and there
Dwell on it
Twist the details
In a voice that reeks of fake integrity
Evoke the idea of peace with pious intonation
And then respectfully bless the fallen of the past

Liars Inc

Look at you
Spreading disinformation for profit
Tapping on people’s consciousness
Exploiting their dreams
With your cunning schemes
I know you well
As you’ve been twisting my awareness
As long as memory informs me
Glorifying pretence
Dressing up deception for money
In a world of make believe
But hear this
I press mute every time you speak
Each word you say
Wriggles into the dust of my apartment
My only sadness
Is the interruption of my viewing
And yet
There is a healing of my pain
When I vow
Never ever ever
To buy the goods you advertise
That is my choice
My power
My response to your guile
And in the end the source of a winning smile


They’ve caught up with him
At last!
That lying cheating icon of duplicity
That public figure of ill-gotten power
Who rules the roost like a rooster
Gesturing triumphantly every few seconds
With his fist
While babbling non sequiturs
Like an out-patient of Bedlam
A power crazed usurper he is
Searching for ways to rule
And now they’ve got him
Caught up with the crimes
He disguised as virtue
Pleading innocence
With his usual perfidy
And believed
Only by those deprived of logic
That’s it then
The trial is coming soon
Truth will win
As justice decides the truth
So be it
Who can this be?
Perchance you need a name
Not so
For his deeds define him
His identity is obvious


And The Rivers Rose


These poems were all written in May 2019. The poems are about people and the weather. The ideas each contains may be different but there is that common thread. Young people in particular these days seem to be passionate about global warming. Recent examples of this emotion in young demonstrators have actually helped inspire me to write. At the time of writing at least, the weather was fine. What lies ahead remains to be seen.

An Unexpected Journey
I caught a bus yesterday
To Davy Jones’ locker
The rain I must say was an endless patter
That was to my eyes a serious matter
It was the reason
The street became a river of no return
That torrent abhorrent defied all human concern 
As watery hands to my consternation
Changed the bus’s destination
Then it suddenly became a toy in a bath 
Bubbles on windows as the aftermath
As we swirled in the water to Fate’s decree 
White foam flew
Furrow followed free
Next I saw
A V-dub Beetle
Swaying and swimming like a boat afloat
Then unexpectedly like breakfast on toast
Our bus stuck fast against a post
Just as a cow a tree and a bin
Floated by midstream
We remained transfixed on the beam
So I fumbled towards the door
Through the water on the floor...
Just as those rescue arms reached me
I caught sight of
A house spinning past
Adrift like a swan
And then it was gone
As the little group of passengers set free with me 
Wondered what our next cataclysm would be
As the globe warms
It is so still lying there
Life gone
Almost alone and motionless on the cracked earth 
That spreads everywhere these days
On the treeless plain
The other creature hovers beside the body 
Sniffing the death
Motionless for a while
Sad eyes blinking in the heat
And then glancing suddenly afar...
With a despondent motion
The still living thing hops away
Like a torn paper tossing in the stale wind
Death is not unusual in these times
It touches many creatures
Especially the young
That kangaroo babe is stiff now
And linked forever to the past
Its mother accepting reality
Moves off in a hopeful quest for water
Two Kookaburras
Danger has no depth like blazing wildfire
A monster with dragon breath
Those flames leap fiercely torching scorching 
Glazing any protoplasm put to death
Two kookaburras are about to die in the pyre 
Birds turned to ashes
As the fire maims
Dead relics of life
Caught in the updrafts of the flames
The moving wall of heat-bound space
In its cruel vibrating race
Lashes flashes scorching every other thing 
Time disintegrates as fire bells ring
Can you hear them you gods of CO2? 
Do my thoughts scorch your minds? 
Global reflections on false dissections 
Longing for wise corrections

O what did that scientist say?
The Wind Unseen
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I
But when it has you in its grip
That wind is flouncing by
This knowledge is my wont
Now you feel it now you don’t
No I have not seen the wind
Yet it must be there
Playing with air
As all that dust mummifies the sky
The wind does more than pass you by 
Yes it is really there
Glowering everywhere
No problem at all
When young leaves fall
The culprit remains unseen
At the pummelling of the green
But other upshots meet the eye
Of damage bills far more high
Invisible malpractice
Sins of the wind linked to coal
Now look at that house with a giant tree 
Thrusting through its roof
Roots embedded in the air
As the wind stays there aloof
No you cannot see the wind
However hard you stare
Though the world stands maimed
You know
The wind is always there – untamed
Hail Poetry
Old Jack was a farmer from ancient days derived 
Who understood the seasons and the reasons crops survived
But the times they were a’changing
And life needed rearranging
As past things had to give way to the new
The old man was an owner
And he was a loner
So no one ever told him what to do
No one that is till Ginger Mick appeared
So full of guile, a patron to be feared
Ginger was a cunning chap from the rich fraternity 
Who taught Jack what was needed
To catch up with modernity
Down came the gum tree that shaded the old dunny 
All pests were poisoned with a speed not funny
An additional plan so life could thus pass muster
Was a costly contract with a crop duster
Next came the bank
Old Jack not alone
Was helped by Mick raise a dubious loan
Clearly now farm life was going well
But good intentions line the road to Hell
Said Ginger Mick we’ve achieved the norm
But he ignored a violent storm
The hail came fast and never seemed to stop
Until in the end with a tragic trend
It had ruined the whole crop
Goodbye Little Yellow Bird
Goodbye little yellow bird
The branch of your tree is dead. 
Goodbye little yellow bird
There is little more to be said. 
Goodbye little yellow bird 
You are but two inches tall.
Goodbye little yellow bird
You tremble as you fall
Into the arms of dead things
Decaying on the ground
With the ghosts of Graylings and sweet Silvery Blues * 
While lifespans of extinct things do not make the news. 
Where the wind after felling those forsaken trees 
Now makes not a solitary sound, 
While you, little bird about to die, 
Are now to Heaven bound. 
* Graylings, Silvery Blues: butterflies facing extinction. 
Let There Be Light
“Damn and blast!” said Grandpa
As all the lights went out
He fiddled in the dark to find a torch
And felt an urge to shout
Then the air whistled
And all his hair bristled
As the wind blew the roof off the house
So Grandad in fright felt as weak as a mouse 
And then he let fly with a curse
That has no place in this verse 
That oath would have lifted the ceiling
Had not the wind with no fellow feeling
Done its job and got there first
So there stood Grandpa believing the worst
Under the light of the stars 
He shivered in fear till the storm had passed 
To the sound of his grateful hurrahs 
Plus the few subtle words he said at the last: 
“Our future is now our past.” 
A Hatter’s Matter
Mercury on hats is toxic
It renders the brain anoxic
No matter said the Hatter in his turn 
Our job rights are now clear
It’s our career
We must be allowed to earn
Arsenic’s a dangerous shade of green 
Once used on gloves to preen*
Don’t ban said the glover in his turn 
Our job rights are now clear
It’s our career
We must be allowed to earn 
Sandblasting of clothes may be a neurosis 
And a possible cause of silicosis
Don’t get stressed 
Stay well dressed
Said the clothier in his turn 
Our job rights are now clear
It’s our career
We must be allowed to earn 
Elizabeth I used vinegar with lead 
To cover her smallpox sores 
This rotted her teeth and thinned her hair 
And yellowed her ageing pores 
Said the Royal Supplier in his turn 
Our job rights are now clear 
It’s our career 
We must be allowed to earn 
* Arsenic was also used to make artificial flowers.
The Last Koala
Thirty-third tree on the left
Just past the big wattle 
Residence ideal
For a worthy community member 
Splendid dwelling place
Off the beaten track
No postcode here
Thus its beauty is well preserved 
Completely furnished residence
With appropriate fittings
Provisions easily obtainable
All timber construction
Excellent landscape views
Surrounded by a fine garden of natives 
Predominance of Eucalypts
Vacant possession
As the last koala is dead
Fire Alarm
Little boy with a grown up mind Jamie
An endless talker
No trace of guile or self praise 
Just trying to enrich his days 
Lots of questions out of the blue 
What is wrong with C02?
Why did all those river fish fry?
What is the reason good things die?
Some of those questions were answered at school 
Reading his homework’s my constant rule
I helped him a lot with sentence creation
And filled in the gaps of his punctuation
Read some stories with him too
Some were old and some were new
Some I chose and some were set
And we both shared time on the internet
Funny thing that
When you look at your son
You see yourself
In a new life begun
There is something free
With his POV
It becomes your destiny
You feel extended
Life is amended
As time stands still
Against your will
Since you enquire
I lost my eyes in a fierce bushfire
Read and write now only in Braille
Still keep trying afraid to fail
Lost the house too
And Jamie so clever
Now I’m alone
Alas forever!
Can you hear the winds a’calling?
Can you see the trees a’falling?
What you gunna do now man?
Can you hear the voices crying?
Can you see the people dying?
What you gunna do now man?
Over the mountains the fury rages
Not seen before in history’s pages
Along the streets everybody’s dashing 
Scared to death by the lightning flashing 
Can you hear the winds a’calling?
Can you see the trees a’falling?
What you gunna do now man?
Can you hear the voices crying?
Can you see the people dying?
What you gunna do now man?
Over the plains the air splits asunder
Ten thousand sheep go mad with the thunder 
Down by the river the dingoes seek blood 
But it’s all washed away now in that flood 
Can you hear the winds a’calling?
Can you see the trees a’falling?
What you gunna do now man?
Can you hear the voices crying?
Can you see the people dying?
What you gunna do now man?
The world’s unfurled and falling to pieces 
Trouble in the air and the pain increases 
Stop all the rain and end the pollution 
Get it right now and start a revolution 
Can you hear the winds a’calling? 
Can you see the trees a’falling?
What you gunna do now man?
Can you hear the voices crying? 
Can you see the people dying?
What you gunna do now man?
What you gunna do now man?
What you gunna do now man?
Can you feel it?
All around us
Changing existence against our wishes 
Cooking us like little fishes
In a packet waiting for the chips 
Temperature rising
How does it work
This ephemeral lurk
Known as global warming?
How is it forming?
This season of eternal summer?
Or should I say infernal?
Well is it or is it not the norm?
That appears to be the question
The answer seems likely to raise a storm
Frogs are musicians don’t you know? 
Love songs are their game
In the marsh at night
Where each species is defined by decibels 
All the sounds tell a story
Light and hoary
Of a quest in the night for a mate
Have you heard them? “Kok – Karock 
Darling will you be my date?”
Do you see what I mean about romance 
When the season’s alight
In the marsh at night
And each species is defined by decibels? 
It’s a chorus of love
From nirvana above
Just a quest in the night far and wide 
Have you heard them? “Goo – Garoo 
Sweetheart will you love me true?”
But things are not what once they were
In the marsh at night
When the season’s right
Where I recently had my fill
I returned to the place I used to go
And heard the silence roar
Yes all the cries were still
No musical encore
It seemed that the place was close to Hell 
Completely without a decibel
For the river was dry
And the marsh it was no more
Little Fish
Little fish
What are you doing attached to my line? 
You would bring me a sizeable fine 
Below the legal size
I am not slack
So I’ll put you back
Back into the troubled waters
I know it is hard for you
You who do not thrive
Who may not survive
Endure the drought
Or the algae
Or the cotton grower’s flout
But this I must do
Just wish you well
No other choice for you
So farewell little perch
May pure waters be your church
As I say for you with a sigh
Old Joe
Old Joe was a man of the plains
Knew the land in drought and rains
Sheared the sheep with a willing hand
Was well known throughout the land
None of his sheep ever needed tar
But alas his wages were spent at the bar
Joe’s week’s work went for eighty hours
Didn’t have time for shaves or showers
As life went on, things were going well
Until the year the big rain fell
Said the boss it’s a blow alas and alack
I have no choice but to give you the sack
Now that was the way old Joe was dismissed 
So he searched for work with hand over fist 
Though nothing came his way
Save hunger I’m sad to say
Days went by and turned into weeks
Such a life is what no man seeks
Then jobs acquired a whole new range
As a consequence of climate change
So folk came running with the planet reforming 
To the halls of government all were storming 
While Joe old Joe got a fresh invitation
The chance to work in flood mitigation
Memories are flimsy things 
Frail as air
Yes air
How fragile it is
This invisible essence of life 
Entering our bodies
In every moment of our time 
Do you remember
Back in the good old days
The sudden joy of fresh air
Brought by the wind’s cool change
At the close of a sultry day?
Once in another time our air
Was as pure as a nymph is fair
Even though the wind was still
No molecules at Hades’ will
No particulate matter
Was in the scatter
And every breeze was a friend at play 
No tainted air to blister life away
That was true then no one denies
But now we sing another song
As smoke gets in your eyes
Bush Fire
I am old but still I have a tale to tell
Now walking brings me pain
And I cannot move too well
Heat affects my breathing in a nasty way 
Pain comes to stay
That is why fire’s a phobia for me
’Twas a grim foe in the past you will agree
Ask any saint
While In modern times it is not subtle
It tells you it is coming
First smoke on the horizon
A nervous thing to put your eyes on
Then it darkens the drab sun’s glow
Glowering over things below
You smell its breath like a garlic feast
Next you see the light of the beast
Gleeful fingers too big to miss
The hose of a fireman is a Manneken Pis 
Nullified by smoke, swishing off
And then with a scoff comes the wrath
The house cries out as it falls apart
Digits of fire strike through its heart
Throwing bits of what once was a home
Killing even the garden gnome
This fire is a rumble in the jungle
Even the world appears to crumble
Small pieces fly up one at a time
While the heavy wreckage completes the crime 
And turns the carpet of ashes
To smoky mist with a hundred crashes
And blooms of fumes that swiftly redden
Make the site an Armageddon
Until the rage goes free
Leaving behind the tattered remainders and me
Flight of Swans
See how they fly
Majestic birds
Helping each other in a pattern 
Of windswept ease
A V for victories
See how this one flies 
It’s V for venadium
Dust and fumes in the air
They cause pulmonary despair 
And oedema everywhere
Dear lovely birds
Why do you fly?
Is it attraction or distraction? 
Does the atomic number 23 
Turn turn the present into history? 
Can you trust the air’s rungs?
Is the steel they harden
More important than your lungs? 
Questions without answers
Are a part of life today
Answers without questions 
Mean the world has gone astray
Lonely Man
There is a man
We’ve been in touch for several years 
Though I have not seen him of late
He is forced to live in solitude
A pathetic victim of hate
Let us be more direct –
Internment without walls
That’s better
That meets the alignment
Of this man’s confinement
It’s the truth about him
For he is Left-Green
That isolated friendless one
Maligned as a clown
Cast aside by his family and others
In this mining town
His mind is crushed by unjust abuse
As he is blamed
For the ploys that others use
Forced to live on alone
Light years away from true allies
Where constant hate is his fate
As all his life dreams dissipate
Hate wins political contests too, thanks to 
The guile of torts
That conjure resorts
To villainous thoughts
And surface values
Back to him the solitary one:
Lonely man
Cast aside by your failure to conform
I want to lead you beyond the norm
And if I can visit you in your town
To help bring injustice crashing down 
And make your torture end
It will be my lasting joy
Just to be your friend
Footprints On The Floor
We lost the sky one day
Though the sun was shining bright
It was dust
And the morning turned into night
The birds flew away
Without delay:
White ghosts of drama
Sky cyclorama
Get inside quickly said Mum
Close the windows
Close the shutters
Close the doors
Close everything
This we did
Like well drilled men-at-arms
Before a battle
You could smell the urgency
Then the dust hit our noses
Unimpeded by the closures
First through the eaves
And down through the ceiling holes
Then past the windows shutters and doors
Were they really closed?
We began to cough as the dust
Debased our living space
Into eyes and nostrils throat and lungs
Then the wind rapped on our windows and doors 
As if demanding entry
Go away I thought
As I covered my face with a handkerchief
Not that it gave me much relief
But ’twas a good idea at the time
Time that ended in about an hour
As the dust storm moved away
Leaving grimy fingerprints in the kitchen sink
Dust marks in the bath and basin 
Footprints on the floor
Where we had scurried
Then as we hurried and opened the door 
The sun was peeping through
That was the time we young folk knew 
There was much more work to do
Spencer Tracy’s Ghost
Spencer Tracy
For me an actor unsurpassed
I remember in a film from the past
On a quest for the Northwest Passage 
When the coda came
Tracy made the claim
That the search would not be in vain
So he set off on his journey again
As the film ended
But failure was adrift in the air then
Hope died with the word
Everybody knew
Everybody knew
That his scheme was a dream absurd
Not so today
Let me say
By the views of aficionados
Everybody knows
Everybody knows
Tracy’s ghost would enjoy times changed 
For a hot North Pole and the ice rearranged 
Have proposed a pathway through
And the climate will make this come true
Benjamin Franklin’s Kite
Benjamin Franklin my teacher said 
Took electric shocks In a storm
My Dad
Wouldn’t let me fly my kite
That night
In the last big storm at our place
So I sat on the porch and watched
First the thunder comes
Like bugaboos playing drums
Then after that noise has rent the air
The lightning arrives
How it startles
With the thunder clashing
White sheets flashing
Like strobes with the staggers
And then come the daggers
Carving up the black sky
Hitting hard somewhere nearby
More sudden thunder
Tears me asunder
And after the flash the peal
That is so real
I begin to feel the fear
I know the strike is somewhere near
You are always afraid and glad it’s not you 
In your final hour 
Hit by the power...
I learnt things in that electric world
So small I had suddenly become
I shrank back into the night
In fright
Huddled scared beside the wall
Trying to get away from it all
As things for me were so adverse
Little me
Just a speck a dot in a hostile universe
Pen Friend
My pen friend Nasheed
Writes often to me
From his home in the distant Maldives 
He’s a true soul mate
So I long for his news
Whenever a letter arrives
We talk about life
In our two different lands
So often around global warming
He tells me his fears
About future years
And the sad way the world is performing 
I have learnt from my friend
How his land will end
Underneath the ocean’s dark waters
Just a mere thirty years
When his home disappears
According to reliable reporters
So what can I do
In my impotent way
To stop this evolving sadness?
Shall I tell the truth
Or just say, “Forsooth”
And accept the world’s current madness? 
So I meditate on the life we share
And I wonder what future is waiting there 
Scientia: How I worship science!
A true hope left to me
The powerful belief that has to be
As at skeptics I hurl my defiance
Dearly Beloved
We are gathered here to give thanks 
For lives alas departed
Though sadness fills our troubled minds 
We shall not be fainthearted
So let us all together
Give praise to those now gone
Today we wish for better times
For all creatures living on
The American Passenger Pigeon 1914 
The Barbary Lion 1942
The Mexican Grizzly Bear 1969
The Caspian Tiger 1970
The Asian Kouprey 1979
The Costa Rican Golden Toad 1989
The Fijian Levuana Moth 1994
Dear friends who will be next?
The tide is fast now rising for other deaths to come
Up to a hundred thousand soon may hear the fatal drum 
So let us work together as we strive to stem the tide
As we cast the unbelievers now and forever aside

_____________** ______________


Boat People

Look at you
I’ve spoken of you before
Who hasn’t?
You with your innocence branded as a crime
Desperate souls
Seeking not gain but domain
Just a roof above walls of compassion
Where danger is a thing of the past
And kindness is in the air
With recognition of your humanity
To give you the rights
Even peasants have in this kingdom
No! No! No!
It is too much for me to bear
The way you are crushed by racist monologues
Fictitious virtue
Stained by the mythology of people smugglers
As the reason for your detention
While the inconvenient truth lies dead at your feet
The reality screams out at me
Cursing the air of your primeval lockups
Foreigners are our demons
Bigotry builds our prisons in this land of our approved fathers
Even children feel the consequences of our anger
And families are in tatters asunder
In the name of fake justice
Where the cries of our victims are suppressed
In profitable corporate prisons
Drowned by other cries of wild birds
As they fly away to the freedom
You will never know

Lost Child

See him
Thrown out of home by preoccupied parents
Too busy to understand him
Blame is hurled upon him
Like a Spanish Inquisition finding
Forced conversions
Not to faith but to drugs
See what they have done to him
Those failures as parents
Mauled his mind
Condemned his uncertainty about himself
As wilful criminality
And cast him angrily aside
Like embarrassing offal at a tea party
So he ran away
Finding shelter with guileful addicts
Who made him a source of their addiction
A carrier
Enslaved to their will and his own dependency
And so the moving pen of truth writes on
Inscribing convictions according to an indefeasible injunction
Therefore it was
In a court of law a condemnation
A blackening of the soul in the archives of the unworthy
But who was guilty?
Where lies the awkward truth
Amidst this travesty of ugly duplicity
And fission of contempt?
It is someone else
In fact two erring others
Who have smothered love with their own incompetence
And left their child lost
In a realm of iniquity
Where impatience is a virtue
And to err is inhuman

Friend Deceased

He’s gone now, my friend
Dead at last
After a long and eventful life
He was about my age actually
In other words quite ancient and past his prime
And yet
There is something about his passing
That leaves me for dead, if I might put it that way
Born in England he was
A child migrant to our land during the Big War
Life on an outback farm was his beginning here
Then he went to Teachers College
That was where I met him
We both became teachers but he moved on
To become a lawyer
So skilful he was in that profession
That he rose up through the ranks to great heights
Our friendship grew at Teachers College Reunions
And he wrote about his life for all to see
More than one marriage and lots of children
And finally farming
With one glorious product: cheese
And on his farm he died
I learnt of his death just today, of all days
My writing time for my book of poems
No tears from me
Although I am more than a little sad
As his joie de vivre was amazing and infectious
He taught me things
About myself, about the world, and about himself
One lesson we both have learned
Is that eventually
The only place we remain alive
Is in each mind of our loved ones and friends
And that is why I am happy to say
You are there David

Edith Emily Marjorie

She was very clever
Loved reading
Spoke passionately about beautiful things
Had a lovely singing voice
That brought many songs to life
Born far away from the city
Where homes had fuel stoves and dirt floors
And electricity was but a dream
Where mines, not then a thing of the past,
Were where your men worked and sometimes died
She loved horses and rode one to school
Where she did very well
To win a scholarship to a high school
A long way from home
There she was a star in the Western Sky
Captain of her school and distinguished in final examinations
With a readiness to rule the world
Not so
Was the decree of the Fates
She was to become not a ruler but a servant
A beck and call doll with a servile destiny
A lover
Moulded by Fate into a slave of others
Gentle, caring
Working willingly in the time of the Great Depression
Guardian of loved ones
Loyal to a husband who was a good man
Ever ready to overcome the blight of poverty
And so the years passed
Destiny manoeuvred by time into a mire of pain and suffering
Yet she was ever ready to ease the torture of others
With a kind word or a gentle deed
Long time passing
O how her deeds linger still as comfort
In my troubled world so much poorer without her
For she was my mother

A Last Post

He’s gone now
Such a character he was
Brimming over with kindness
When your spirits were tumbling down
Old he was
But in spite of the years
He made you laugh
Replacing your grimaces with smiling faces
And assurances
That a better world was looming
If only due to his grooming
So that was the way inevitably it was
Independent of the weather
The stock market or the cost of living
He would turn the tide of things
Mind you
He didn’t suffer fools gladly
Especially if they belonged to the Liberal Party
In what he called Terror Australis
He’s gone now
Long dead
Just a plaque in a crematorium
He had never heard the term neo-liberal
Although he had read George Orwell
QAnons were unknown to him
Yet he had perused Barnum’s Humbugs Of The World
And the violence of anti-vaxxers
Would have taken his breath away
So there it was
A voice clearly left of centre
Because he cared about people
And dared to dream of a better planet
Never faltering in his reproach of greed
Just a gentle little man who gave me so much
Alexander Cecil Royce
My father


Poems Still

Ein Reich

Look at you
Flaunting your racist catch-cries
Posing as well meaning but suffering heroes
While all that you desire is power
The ill-gotten gains from lies and subterfuge
The case you put for white supremacy
Rings around the firmament like auction patter
Stressing this, condemning that
Like witless herdsmen’s bellowing at cattle
While you pose as righteous
You punish the needy
With your violent antagonism to welfare and justice
I hear your voice
Strident, angry, devoid of integrity and endlessly wrong
As you go ahead building castles of deceit in the air
Trumpeting lies in a fanfare of deception
And shaking your angry fists at the virtuous and the needy
Yes we hear you
You with your blueprint for corrupt control of society
Contempt for justice and rejection of support for the needy
Stark resentment of all steps to end suffering
Amidst the heartless rivalry of modern existence
Very well then, so be it
The time has come for the rejection of your schemes
To cast aside your axioms and sordid dreams
And fill the world instead with love and guidance
That ends for ever your epiphany of hate
Go then; begone
And take your callous code of life with you

Let us hear no more or ever again
Your howl:
One People, One Nation, One Leader

Vox Populi

Your plan is obvious
To stifle vox populi by depleting funding
At the same time you force our public entity
Into privatised compartments
To save costs
As another surprise
You appoint to potent authority
Someone who is shaped relentlessly by private enterprise
A previous voice of right wing media
A child of that PRESS that controls the minds of the masses
So look at what you are doing
You and your henchmen of iniquity
What is unfunded, you hope, will wither away and die
What is privatised
Will be cheaper and tend to support a chosen point of view:
Mercenary and right-leaning
Even so, in your favour
It is true that you tend to air both sides of chosen argument
From time to time
True too
You importantly spread valuable information at times of disaster
A genuine service to mankind
But where are the plays and films
Created powerfully by a government owned facility?
Where is the leadership
That makes the voice of the people always heard
And where are the sports telecasts
Available to everyone and not just the rich?
Your aims are clear
Reduce the power of the people
Support the chosen upper classes you revere
Thereby foster the moneymaking of new powerful allies
Yes, yes, yes
It is not a commission but a corporation

The King Of Fake Diamonds

Look at me
O how I rule in my kingdom of pretence
Treated as a god
By the worshippers of gain
Have you heard me speak lately?
Twisting facts into convenient deceptions?
Hiding authenticity behind a mask of untruth?
Telling false tales that have the ring of reality?
Ah! What fun it is!
Murdering veracity with outrageous audacity
Surviving even in the face of legal restraint
Yes, here I am
Brazen, shameless, audacious, insolent
Hanging rivals with a battery of lies
That would send even a saint to Hell
That is the way you do it in this domain of mine
This, my realm
Is not a place for the timorous
The lily-livered, chicken-hearted, spineless souls
Afraid to praise my duplicity
So here I stand
Where no fabulist has dared to stand before
Weaving my wiles
The way a genius beguiles
For victory, conquest, mastery, supremacy
Stirring the crowd to adoration
Acclamation, commendation and a vast ovation
The reward I clearly deserve
But wait if you please; to end my tale
There is more to be said of my glory
Before I complete my story
One event talks better than I could
Another king to honour my deeds
Has awarded me a knighthood

On Love

Why is hate in the air so much
Ringing around the alcoves like a poisoned wind?
Can you hear it
Revealed so fluently by every news reader?
It is so sad
The way people are crushed by animosity
When they make a mistake
Or cast into Bedlam
When their minds run sightly astray with their reason
Do you notice the contempt
Expressed by some
For many new settlers from a foreign land?
Have you heard the abuse hurled at rivals
By political superstars as they clutch at fame?
Do you support a war
When innocents die
So that the powerful few may flourish?
Are you in tune
With the direful dirge
That promotes the use of guns?
If your answers to these questions
Reek of animosity
I condemn your bleak ferocity…

Having reached out for a better way to think
Yes, one more question stirred my troubled mind
As I strove to have pure happiness defined
For many many days I struggled with this task
Seeking here
Coming closer there
Until I found a solution
Back to my extensive past I had gone
Into my distant youth
Till I thought again of the magic of music
That once swept the troubled world
And the Beatles said: “All you need is love.”


O we are old yet we have no fears
And we face the world as the Pioneers
Other folk weaken and yield to strife
While we are unbeaten and in love with life
Lesser mortals will meekly complain
But we have pills to ease our pain
As the years go by it’s plain to see
We have found new life in a pharmacy
Commonplace people fall and fumble
But our walking sticks prevent a tumble
If you’re in for a penny and in for a pound
You’ll find all our details on ultrasound
Contemptuous opponents tend to lie
But we tell the truth with an MRI
In the face of every sham concocter
To end all doubt we call a doctor
Age is wisdom with another name
We dance to this tune in a walking frame
The hoi polloi have no money to mention
But we have a good life on our pension
So ride boldly forward you Pioneers
Let nondescript people shed their tears
Yours is a name that will ring down the ages
With your story a glory in history’s pages
Hip Pip Hooray! Hip Pip Hooray!
The girls and boys have come out to play!


More Poetry

Fascistic Mission

Make our nation great again
As in the good old days
Rally round the flag boys
Crush all dissent
Beware of the generalised others
Fight for our martyred middle class
Conspiracy is in the air, beware
Our foes are strong but we will always win
Pacifists are tools of the enemy
We are not spineless weaklings
But heroes born to rise and rule
Our mighty weaponry will control the world
It’s time to crush our foes who do nothing but cheat
Replace smart-arse language with steadfast simplicity

So there you have it
Fourteen Points to outdo Woodrow Wilson*
An echo of Eco**
What is the significance here?
Why, to condone villainy…
Fulfil the elite’s plans to rule
Onward ever onward now
To a victory for the chosen people
Declaration: opponents cheat to win
But if the chosen win the election this time,
They will end deception forever and never lose again
And they will forever be strong
Machismo will be the norm
All hail too, to a superstar leader
A champion, warrior, knight who is popular
A headman to claim victory now and evermore
And glory glory he will rule yer
With words of no more than one syllable

*The Fourteen Points were a proposal made by U.S. President Woodrow Wilson in a speech to Congress on January 8, 1918 as a vision for a lasting peace.

**Inspired by Umberto Eco’s fourteen qualities of fascism.


So here we stand on Remembrance Day
The deaths of the brave
Noting their sacrifice for those of us who remain
How sombre we are!
Keeping a ritual and depositing flowers
And standing tall in the conformity
Imposed upon us by authorities
Once a year
But where are the questions?
Cross examination to determine why so many died?
Was it oil that killed them?
A quest for a market share?
A need to exploit the cross of gold of weaponry?
The time for answers is now
For the sake of the young men and women of the future
Who may die for the same reasons
And be remembered annually
Millions have been victims of war again and again
Markedly down recent ages
So many were not soldiers too
Often killed but more often maimed
Or driven ruthlessly from their homelands
This then is the plea
Let us commemorate peace
Not only with bagpipes and trumpets and ritual
But with a commission of enquiry
A quest for knowledge
Led by the leading minds of our age
With a true incentive to determine reality
The reasons for the folly of each war…
Then age will not weary us
Nor the years condemn
And at the going down of the sun
And in the morning
We shall know the truth


It’s a common pejorative term isn’t it?
A term used to condemn a rival
You hear the birds chattering
Aimlessly it seems, and you disregard their sanity
Their wisdom
And judge them foolishly and wrongly
In fact
That chatter is true communication
In the evolutionary scheme of things
Those birds taught us to talk
So think again stranger as you denigrate
Remember they fly in aeronautical best formation
They build nests with the primeval skill of architects
They feed and protect their young
They warn each other when danger threatens
Some hide their food like magicians
And some have vision like radar
And hunt prey with amazing dexterity
Look again when that bird flies past you
Notice its mastery of the air
Unmatched by man
Above other things listen to the music
So many birds sing a distinctive melody
It may be a love call
A warning of danger
Or simply an anthem of happiness
A laughter that rings around the heavens
And exposes your inability to know and understand nature
Therefore dear friends
Should you be moved with disrespect
And seek to refer to me as a birdbrain
I will smile
And say thank you for the compliment

Validity Of Argument

Why does your argument
Always match a predetermined conclusion?
Every time you speak
Evidence for you is irrelevant
Existence in your world depends not on reasoning
But on chosen outcomes
And so you chatter away with a flowing discourse
To support a point of view already decided upon
Without a sprinkle of valid research
So all refugees will run off with our jobs
Tax concessions to the rich will trickle down
The gaoling of indigenous youth is valid and just
Budgets must never ever be unbalanced
Existing jobs are more important than global warming
War overseas is essentially our business
And free enterprise will save education and health
There, that’s it then
The misfit in control fumbles around like a monkey on steroids
Darting here
Swinging on branches there
Mumbling incoherently and totally ignoring forethought
As life changing decisions are made
Without the gift of reason
Thus time passes
Beneficial outcomes are rarely predicted
And even more rarely eventuate
Failures haunt each passing day
Yet the same feeble thinkers hold on to power
Aided by media that decide what news we are fit to hear
And desirable change is meticulously avoided
By an old order
That whistles cheerfully on its way to the bank

When will they ever learn?

Just look at what they are doing
They make learning so expensive
Only the rich can do it
So the left-wing poor can stay ignorant
Shame on them!
University study
Is not a right but an investment these days
To study Marx or Shakespeare there
You will have to pay off a loan
So ignorance is chosen by so many
This is such an encouragement for the connivers
Who plan the economy
So that slavery exists
And will provide the ideal labour force
To keep the wheels of industry turning
The source of this sad resource
Is the bewildered herd*
So many of us have barely enough money to survive
And our family eats at McDonalds
What of schools?
Education interferes with capital investment
Tax concessions are deserved by the rich
And we must make the parents pay for learning
So that money can be saved for more important things:
Weapons should war arise
An open market for free enterprise
Mining to match the demand of world markets
And high rise replacements of our heritage…
When will they ever learn?
Long time passing
When O when will they ever learn?

*Walter Lippmann used the term “the bewildered herd” for those needing to be controlled.


Poetry Still Emerges


On Recent Troop Movements

Get to Hell out of my place
I don’t want bullies sharing my time and space
Peace and love are my partners
Not fanatical oppressors
Who march around the countryside
Flexing their muscles, flaunting their power
Looking for a fight
And threatening to destroy divergent spirits
Are you listening to me
Or is our pseudo friendship
Merely a device to promote your power
Forcing me to share your ambition
Your enemies
Your mission to rule the world?
What will others say about your intrusion?
You are never an agent of peace
You don’t shake hands you clench your fist
You breathe fire and brimstone
And every word you say is a mission statement
As you praise yourself
And set fire to your future
Still you stay in my land
Deaf to my passionate pleas
To my statements which you brush away
Like flies from your angry face
Leave those flies alone
They have been here far longer than the half-life
Of the nuclear fission
That is part of your weaponry

Election Lies

Look at you
Storming the barricades of truth
Like a Vandal invading Rome*
Promoting lies like the Devil incarnate
There can be no doubt that you lost that election
It’s written in the archives of integrity
So be off with you
Get thee to a place of veracity
Where validity reigns above self interest
And people such as you cannot lust after lies
Like harlots in the streets
Force is the unnamed child of fraud and corruption
It will misbehave in manner unbecoming
Begging for unhealthy food when it is not hungry
Seizing frail elegance
With clumsy destructive hands
Crushing fair opinions mercilessly
And so you demand satisfaction
Cry out for false syllogisms without a strain of evidence
Claim integrity
When deception haunts your every day
Threaten the truthful
With a voice of menace
That terrorises peace
And ends forever future longings
So hear this and heed it well
What you are
The truth of everything you do
The reality that lives on when all else dies
Is a danger signal
That must be heeded
Before the good life as we know it
Becomes a hallucination

*Under their leader Gaiseric, the Vandals captured Rome in June 455.

Aren’t We Lucky?

Aren’t they lucky?
While most people haven’t enough money
Some have more than they need
Their lucre is a tool that controls their lives
Sometimes conspicuous kindness pays dividends
And a sporting team will get money from a sponsor
To buy their uniforms and gear
Aren’t they lucky?
Now givers are choosers
And there’s gain in the donor’s overt virtue
As sponsorship is a lucrative trick
That can win friends
For the sponsors
And this could lead to other big deals
Aren’t they lucky?
But look, all in that team must wear the logo
To verify the patron’s brand
But wait a minute; what’s this?
One player, indigenous, has a moral dilemma
As the founder of that generous firm was a supremacist
A fact that does not trouble his surviving kin
Aren’t they lucky?
Aha! But wait another minute
That solitary player won’t wear the corporate logo
As a matter of principle
And Wow! Look at that: all funding is discontinued
But wait a third minute
A new, untainted sponsor is coming to the fore
Aren’t they lucky?
There will always come a time, note please
In the lives of the unkind
When their behaviour
Casts them aside
In favour of those motivated by love
So that wisdom and kindness triumph at the end of things
Aren’t we lucky?

Press Conference

So that’s it then
This government I lead cares about the people
Works assiduously for the good of all
With a strong economy, safe borders
And a market where industry truly thrives
Thank you Prime Minister–now for the questions
First I call Terry Blot
Terry Blot Sydney Evening Blurb
Thank you for your speech Prime Minister
My question: What is the future of education?
Mmm thank you Terry for the question
My answer is that other expenditure is more important
Next I call Larry Linger
Larry Linger Weekly Conspiracy
Thank you for your speech Prime Minister
My question: What is Australia’s future as a Pacific power?
Thank you Larry for the question
I ‘m afraid I’m unable to answer you until I ask America
I now call Willy Energeezie
Willy Energeezie of Last Post Weekly
Thank you for your speech Prime Minister
My question: How close to the Paris Climate Agreement are we?
Thank you for the question Willy
Ho Ho To be honest, we are still left out in the c-o-a-l-d
Now Lulabel Mingle
Lulabel Mingle Saturday Evening Plot
Yes. Thank you
What is the place Mr Prime Minister of women in the work force?
Ah! Yes. Thank you so much Lulabel
Yes. Yes indeed. Clearly there’s no place like home
And now the last question: Eddie Misanthrope
Eddie Misanthrope Independent Radio
Prime Minister where lies our future
Eddie, just now it’s in the fine hands of our corporate lobbyists
Thunderous applause

No Tax For The Rich

Look at me
See how I swagger with a spring in my step
And a glint of triumph in my eyes
It’s all because I am rich
And I don’t pay income tax
Keep paying attention to me
Notice the timbre of my voice
When I outline the profit of my business
As I have the Midas touch
And I don’t pay income tax
Mark well this too
As you read my mission statements
You will observe
I make my fortune out of greenhouse emissions
With political support
And I don’t pay income tax
Further study will reveal
My vast use of government goods and services
Provided to all citizens of my native land:
Free medicine
Family Court
Security in border protection
And consular services
To name but a few examples
And then to conclude
Let me reveal finally the reasons for my success
I am ingenious
I am industrious
I am intensely creative
I serve my shareholders brilliantly
I am held in high regard by the banking community
I donate willingly to several charities
I am a distinguished board member of numerous corporations
And I don’t pay income tax


Yet More Poems

Cracked Pot

You are a fool
A simpleton a moron a dullard
I stand by my definitions
Look at you
Masquerading as a genius
Au fait
With all the solutions the world needs
Giving patriotic speeches written by someone else
Gesturing grandly
And leading people astray
With the skill pf a misbegotten card sharp
Mouthing platitudes reflecting attitudes
That belong in the past
Medieval witch-hunts to be precise
Stirring emotions to win support
Creating fears
Of dangers that don’t exist
As you pander
To all the racists in your domain
That’s it then
All this
Explains your success
In a world you strive to create
So many people need the help
You do not give
As the whirlwind of poverty
Sweeps so many innocents away…
And now comes the final straw
Your last post
To defend itself
Our beloved nation
Must greatly strengthen and expand
Its nuclear capability
Quod erat demonstrandum

Voice Of Justice

Silence is a dagger of guilt
Stabbing the innocent
A honed blade of injustice
Cutting the speechless into chunks of insignificance
O First Nation
How I long to end that silence
To hear your voice
How you suffer from your imposed taciturnity
The oldest race known to mankind
Have been smitten asunder
By demons in civilised disguise
Riven by greed
Decimated by forces of contempt
Pilloried by racial abuse
And driven away from the Zion that once was yours
So here I am
A supplicant for you
A rebel on your side despite my whiteness
Solitary, but one of growing numbers
Pleading your cause
The land you once protected is now crying out
Echoing my pleas
It is today such a troubled place
So different from the one you knew
Now is its time
Yes a moment at last for change
For integrity
And evenhandedness for all
So speak up now
May the voice
Of the first guardians of our land
Be heard with appropriate respect
To become forever
Part of the second nation’s social code

The Last Roundup

I’m headed for the last roundup
Words of a song sung by Gene Autry
Long ago
A sentimental euphemism for dying
As he saddled old Paint for the last time and rode away
So there you have it
There’s a degree of truth in it
Like Everyman
Gene and you and I
Have to face our past
At the far away ranch of the Boss in the sky
Even though he may exist
As a mere fantasy of the cowboy’s dreamtime
When that time comes,
The approach of your last breath,
If you have approved of mass killings
In Iraq or Vietnam
Have sanctioned persecution of refugees
Have profited from global warming
Or supported shady bank deals,
Things might be more than rough for you
What you are
Will thunder guiltily above you
The cattle at that final muster
Will stampede away from you
Raising dust to fill your lungs
And stifle your last breath
In a way that sees you banished amidst public shame
And then forgotten by all except your victims

The Jungle

Have you read Upton Sinclair?
You know
That honest man denigrated as a muckraker?
My point here is
There’s still a lot of muck around
I’ll rake over some of it here for you
The first pile of it is corporate care of the aged
Look at them
Cashing in on the ancients’ life savings for admission
And then
Profit based on pathetic low wages for staff
A second heap of slime is the tyranny of markets
Where shareholders are gods
Never to be offended
While all other citizens are an irrelevant nuisance
I would expose the accumulated profit of war mongers
The military industrial complex
That makes weapons a false requisite
While the gods of war are away on business
My next mound of grime
Is the indefinite detention without trial
Of innocents
Whose only wrong
Is to travel by boat to a foreign strand
And seek asylum
An infamy this treatment, now known as the Australian way
Enough! Enough!
Perhaps I should seek out children at play
To placate me
And redirect my mind from acts of evil
Better still if I were a monkey or more suitably an ape
More fittingly I might know how to behave appropriately
In the jungle that surrounds me

Here Is The News

Here is the news they say
But what they don’t say
Is here is the news we’ve decided to let you hear
And thus we carry on passively listening
Our enemies chosen for us
With all their virtues ignored
And their sins emphasised or invented
Favoured political leaders too are featured
You know
The ones who support the approved corporate money folk
And say things emphasising their fake morality
While the idealists
Those who care about the needy and climate change
Are commonly ignored or misrepresented expertly
Other reasoning replacements will also feature
Murder, rape, robbery and fraud
They are sure of a mention
Such iniquity is so easy to report
Grim facts only are needed
Not the erudite analyses
Of thought by reporter and listener
Needed for events of educational significance
Every so often too
Conspiracy theories will be reported
Not obviously supported
Just dog whistled
So there you have it
The revolution will not be televised
Nor will it be mentioned
If the newsmen have their way
All we have instead
Is the sanitised version
Of a history written by the winners
And then we are left
With a government chosen by others


Poetry Returns

Death Of A Queen

Time passes doesn’t it?
All the power and the glory
That once were yours
Now lie on and in a wooden box
Such a long time
For you to reign as the saying goes
You, with your face on our coins
A voice from the past
Preaching traditional values
As few others can
Managing parliament as you do
And yet forbidden entry
Giving your name to chosen institutions
To imply virtue and status
In a so-called manner royal, or as an icon
Leading people in world-wide religious activity
But what does all this tell us?
Where are the lessons
That endorse your validity?
Perhaps they are written down somewhere
In the archives of your sacred family
Unfurled in the flags flying today at half mast
Or possibly reflected
In the medals shining all around your corpse
Whatever the answers to these questions
One thing stands as stone
You were bound by a duty thrust upon you
To breathe justice on the world
If you did
And only if you did will I say
The Queen is dead; long live the King

11 November 1975

How dare you dismiss our leader
What do you think you are?
An omnipotent monarch’s serf?
Well of course in effect you are, aren’t you?
And the representative of the Queen
Who did the damage
Praised by the Prince of Wales
As a courageous act
Yes our Prime Minister was sacked
So democracy died
The Speaker of the House became an impotent icon
As the people’s voice sanctified by history
Is nothing but an impotent whisper
And what of the reports in the Press
Those chariots of ire
The PR tools of the Devil
The primrose press: primula vulgaris
Polluting the air with those calculated lies?
All’s well that bends well they say
As they apply obsequious approval
Of a deed that echoes in the halls of infamy
But hear me now:
We must analyse this crime for future generations
And curse it down the ages
I dishonour my God
I rebuke my Queen
I reject my flag
All hail
To whoever throws light on this villainy
Here endeth the lesson


Away with carbonised plant matter
The profitable igneous mined stuff
Burn trees instead
Even the ancient Joshua Tree
Found thriving in desert terrain
Can be killed in this cause
Biomass instead of coal
But hear the liars
Green energy pretenders
Describing what is not there
Machines are being made by industrial civilisation
To save us
From industrial civilisation
Solar arrays
Need coal
And steel
And graphite
And sulphur
And copper
And silicon
And cobalt
And nickel
And CO2 in vast quantities
Total sun and wind power today
Without supplement does not exist
But the cunning fraudsters
Create the illusion that it does
So the planet writhes
Into an ugly, tumultuous death

Comes A Time

It happens to us all
There comes a time when life
Loses its authenticity
Its value
In a sick and sorry world
And an earth emerges
Where love is eventually discarded
Or replaced by self interest
Where people suffer
And are ignored
By those whom they hold dear
So it is
It happens eventually
To everyone
The end to your own pathetic era
Then you lose heart
And give up the struggle
And fade away
Like laughter at a wake
Hey there!
Now it’s happening to me
I’m sick of everything
By dreams that never come true
Not mollified but horrified
By the narcissism that surrounds me
The grandiose enterprises
That belittle human emotions
Leave me faltering on chasms of regret
So what shall I do?
Give up and end it all
Or keep looking for someone who loves me
Enough to steer me away from utter despair
Ah! There she is…

Cowboys And Indians

The ground on which we stand is sacred ground.
It is the blood of our ancestors.

– Chief Plenty Coups (Crow)

When I was a whining schoolboy
I was very brave
I killed lots of Indians with my six-shooter cap gun
Just the way they did in all those movies
Especially the Apaches
But also the Cherokees, Cheyennes and Sioux
For they were fearsome creatures
Always in the wrong
Dangerous to us noble whites
They fired blazing arrows into wagon trains
And scalped innocent travellers…
In the Wild West that my mind created
I killed Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, Geronimo and Cochise
As well as
Countless other figments of my imagination
Until age
Taught me the folly of my ways
As the years passed
I learnt the army and not cowboys
Killed those Indians
To clear the way for white settlement
I learnt more indeed
For cowboys
Such as Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy and Jesse James
Preoccupied with crime
Were in fact a danger to themselves not Indians
So I have mended my ways
Guns are no longer my toys
I have learnt of the depth of Indian despair
And the ruthless replacement of their homelands
With alien reservations
How wrong I was
So involved in the fables at the bottom of my garden


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