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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