Saturday, January 31, 2009

SEEING RED, TURNING GREEN

It was hard yakka labouring for Labor
for thirty years or more
handing out how-to-votes and erecting signs
since Bass Hill for Paul Keating all those years ago
Determined to see the party govern
after arriving in Queensland in 1976
embroiled in the pangs of labor
booth captain at Capalaba, learning new tricks
But the cabals, apparatchiks and factions
dimmed the light in our soul
for Labor in government in '89 was ...
stolid, near-neanderthal but never bold
The party machine ha's and hum's
'Popular Pete' is all the cry
but like the bush and its diminishing returns
Labor is surely drinking it's well-spring of popularity dry
But there's the rub ..... does anyone care?
they're seduced by the games at the big-end of town
busy hacking out positions from the body-politic
for temporary gain while bringing Labor down
IT'S TIME ... to move on with family and friends
into the fold of a different scene
for years we'd believed in the light on the hill but now
I'm blue, I'm seeing red so I'm turning green

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

THE FIRST B L

I've seen the family photos of the first BL
a mystery man from history that photos just can't tell
my grandma was his widow, my father was his son
the stories about him ... he sounds like a son-of-a-gun

Some of them apocryphal about how he made his pile
legendary tales abound, none committed to pen or file
memories of the man recount how he rose and fell
like trying to hold on to mercury ... that's the first BL

They say he was mercurial like that Roman God
eloquent, a newshound,,he wasn't strange or odd
a horticultural man, he made his mark upon the land
and enterprising contrarian, a man considered grand

We're told he loved his whisky, a cigar and his cards
enjoyed a game and a bet with his card-playing pards
high up in the cupola, having meals dumb-waitered to them
in the White House he'd built where he'd moved from the Log Cabin

Now, I've heard the occasional story from Dad, the second BL
I sensed a reserve between them but for sure I couldn't tell
like the sun and the moon, had they been locked into a pugilist's dance?
or were they both in harmony? ... in apposition and concordance?

My brothers and I have this legacy from both of those BLs
gardening is my thing, ditto for Dave and John as well
Rog is showing some promise with salads, herbs and other plantings
my sisters ... 'nuff said ... to them growing things are like alien landings

Mortality beckons me as I ruminate about that first BL
Nannan and he broke down barriers, told 'em all to go to hell
Pauline says I'm my fathers son, growing old like the second BL
I'd like to think I'm much like them but I didn't know the first BL

Monday, January 26, 2009

HOW MUCH CAN AN URSINE BEAR?

We know there are big 'uns and small 'uns
in the ursine department of the family named bear 
the most feared, the grizzly, inhabits North America
while black and brown bears are found elsewhere
Now the polar bear, the largest of 'em all, lives in Alaska
where there's no shortage of fishy substances
but lately, they've been faced by some serious problems
a rootin', tootin', shootin' woman named Palin f'rinstances
Bears get grumpy when out fishing for din-dins
they get discombobulated, like you and I, if the fishing's lousy
they dine out on the salmon run which they rely on to get fat
for hibernating when the weather gets blustery and blousy
While this may be food for thought for us humans
(perhaps fish oil may be a cure for the obese)
the PBs and GBs face a dearth of these protein-rich fish
thanks to salmon farms that also breed lice, fatal to these ....
Wild salmon swimming past of their way to spawn
in the upper reaches of Alaska's roaring, unruly rivers
which that hoary old scapegoat, global warming is yet to disrupt
where the cycle of nature revolves and every species shivers
The future's grim for the GB sans those piscatorial goodies
it's a bear market that's looking increasingly bare and barren
bears need to eat 170,000 kjs a day to prepare for winter
while us humans eat almost 12,500 kjs in the same time span
Spare a thought for the bears as we graze on food, fast or slow
(a Big Mac contains about 2010 kjs .. we'd have to eat 90 a day!)
let's shoot Palin or consume less of all the other species
leave the fish to the ursines, let 'em do it natures way

 

Sunday, January 25, 2009

THE LAST MUSIC FESTIVAL AT TAABINGA

Like the last rose of summer
this astounding happening is about to fade
for lovers of fine music past and present
its musical bon mots and aural delicacies are overlaid ....
gems over the years from traditional music chamber music
to romantic music dramatic and beautiful
or humourous baroque to palm court supreme
glorious music by superb musicians in an atmosphere full
of music lovers and folk like ...  me
who couldn't fathom the sounds that first Taabinga year 
violins, sweet in the morning
voices, wonderful and pure to my neophyte ear

Unaware of the glory that was to be unleashed
I said to Pauline "there's something happening next door
a piano being walked over by virtuoso fingers
cellos and flutes and clarinets and more ...."
Curious, we went along to this first concert in the barn
to be transported to nirvana in the South Burnett
Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi, Dvorak, Telemann, Biber, Koehne
Gershwin and the Beatles ... new dimensions in a wider net
Interpreted by some of the country's finest musicians
singers and instrumentalists of international acclaim
in our backyard at Taabinga, plying their magic 
fine music has always been the festival's name

The finale has arrived as it inevitably must
'Don Giovanni' or 'Porgy and Bess' will be heard no more
time may dim the floating voices among the eucalypts
while memories evoke moments of an ongoing magical flow

HIGH FLIGHT by John Gillespie Magee Jnr

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth 
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings
sunwards I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth 
of sunsplit clouds and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of .... 
wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence hovering there
I've chased the shouting wind along and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air
Up, up  the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
where never lark or even eagle flew
and while ........
with silent lifting mind I've trod
the high, untrespassed sanctity of space 
put our my hand and touched the face ... of God 

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

OYSTERS AND PEARLS

Some people love to lead and some refuse to dance
some play it safe and others take a chance
some work too hard and end up with backache
some attract trouble and cause me heartbreak
some make too much money and wind up lazy
their kids become indolent and drive others crazy
some try sex and drugs or music that rolls or rocks
others find religion or do things with books or socks
some watch their watches and it makes them hurry
some wait and ponder and fret and worry
some smoke too much they could die of cancer
others find that cocaine isn't the answer
some carry chips that bruise their shoulder
others find  too many birthdays make them older
some never fade away while others crash and burn
some make the world go round, others watch it turn
some travel far and wide and never get lost
others stay home , never count their blessings ... just the cost
some boys become men with an obsession for girls
many of them oysters, few become pearls
most mothers see their sons as capable of giving life a burl
I've got it from the highest authority, my Mother (of pearl)

THE INCIDENT

Taking a fall is as easy 
as falling off a log
which I did the morning after the Melbourne Cup Day
astride that huge tree trunk
legs curlicued to hold me firm
I swung hard at that stubborn bolt, missed and got thrown away ....

The sledge took me down
a rapid descent, surprised I was falling
no doubt though about my welcome to hard earth
no wonder its called terra firma
it was solid and unyielding and dry
it hurt as it must have hurt my mother giving me birth

Ray made a grab for me
and got my hat as it left my head
but I was gone sans parachute on a short base-jump
"Winded" is a polite term for this brutal landing
hyper-ventilating, trying to get some air into every crevice 
aching, distressed ...Oh Joy! my heart started to pump

Bycycled my legs, glad to feel them move
arms followed suit on command from my brain
I could nod my head, I knew I wasn't in too much strife
the fall of about nine feet isn't much
reality suspends, its like an out-of-body experience
until the jolt that awakens you or doesn't ... that's life

Sunday, January 18, 2009

THE GLOW

Dawn brought its warm light early
cast a red glow everywhere
the hovering mist on  the creek tinged pink
and the house's white walls softly red and bare

The field's have an intense colour and radiance
like a light without a flame 
suffusing us with an aura of warmth
on a cold Taabinga morn where every morn is not the same

even the birds are curiously quiet
while the cattle are on the move
soft reds turning to translucent pink
and life is about to slip into its daily groove

It's grand to sit here and gaze 
at a scene that's constantly changing
subtle differences to tone and colour 
and it happens every morning ... isn't it amazing?

FINALE by JUDITH WRIGHT

The cruellest thing they did
was to send home his teeth from the hospital
what could she do with those
arriving as they did days after the funeral?

Wrapped them in one of his clean handkerchiefs
she's laundered and taken down
all she could do was cradle them in her hands
they looked so strange, alone ...

Utterly jawless in a constant smile 
not in the least like his ... she could cry no more
at midnight she took heart and aim and threw
them out of the kitchen door

It rocketed out that finally-parted smile
into the gully? the scrub? the neighbour's land?
and she went back and fell into stupid sleep
knowing him dead at least and by her hand

Friday, January 16, 2009

AFTER THE BOOZING

The age of the new drunkard, boozers who drink to excess
the premature rich imitating vacuous celebrity
binge-drinkers with smart-arse comments on t-shirts like ....
"Instant Dickhead: just add alcohol" ...shit for brains 
to be nurtured for the future
to be forgiven for their trespasses, time and again
indulged to the hilt by parents with or without guilt
re-inventing words like  "cewl" while spewing out their guts
in binges of alcohol that fuel inchoate rages 
beating to a pulp the bloke who accidentally bumped into you 
or who you imagined had a go at your sheila
the ubiquitous phone camera recording the drunken act 
of a young couple coupling on a lawn at a backyard party
or a broken glass rammed into an unsuspecting face
for the most petty reason
alcohol is like a friend but an insidious one
we welcome it into our homes to imbibe it with ...
relief or glee or release or a sense that we deserve it for our labours
but, we don't know how it will behave when it's in us
it can improve or destroy our relationships sexually
make conversation stimulating or horrible
it's our companion at births, marriages and deaths
haunts every increment between love and lust
confidence and cowardice, reason and mindlessness
"There's a whole lot of truth in an empty bottle" .....
Boozing has always been a part of our culture since white settlement
barter or payment in rum was the go then
while there's nothing positive that extolls alcohol
perhaps we can encourage moderation .. by the carrot and stick
and beat this scourge that makes the young paralytic
who, as they grow older, only perpetuate the horrible cycle among their progeny
that results in the wired jaw, the broken teeth, the bloody face
together we can change this egregious part of our psyche together ... and we can 

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

NEW ENGLAND IN SUMMER

The rolling downs of New England have seldom looked more glorious
to my memory the last time it was so verdant was 1997
I can't say what the district looks like south of Armidale
I'd hazard it's as healthy .... a farmers idea of Heaven
There are so many bodies of water, ensconced in twinkling dams
I can't recall from many years travel along the New England highway
from the Warwick Plains to the Granite Belt and beyond
grasses thick and green, trap the wind and sway
And, cattle grazing, udders replete with the milk of kindness ...
of the variety that builds a nation and its people's health
It's a sweet stirring sight for anyone with an inkling 
of struggle with droughts and creating a commonwealth
The pipeline of towns that comprise the Fruit Belt
from Dalveen to Applethorpe to Wallangarra on the border
are resplendent in new clothes of painted fruit barns and wineries
attractive and beckoning to tourist and traveller
Tenterfield and Glen Innes looked invigorated on a day that was serene
(I thought for a moment that the Guyra meat works were killing and alive) 
Armidale was riotous in agapanthus, daisy, rose and dahlia
and a warm welcome from Des to end this country drive

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

IT'S A PLACE WHERE PARADISE AND TAXES COLLIDE

A place, idyllic, sundrenched where white folk in search of a tan would pay a motza to holiday at if they could find the accommodation?
A place where The Prophets birthday is accorded a day-off but the Queen's isn't?
A place with low crime rates and high school attendance?
A place where religion imposes a ban on serving pork products even to non-muslims?
A place where mosques, neat houses and paved streets nestle among coconut palms, pristine beaches and turquoise waters? 
A place where you can get cheap housing at $2500 a year for a 40 year lease and expenses?
A place where expectant mothers and a carer can fly free to the mainland and get free accommodation for up to 40 days due to unspecified "cultural requirements"?
A place where Australian taxes subsidise each citizen for up to $42,000?
A place where toilets are not trashed, alcohol-fuelled violence is non-existent and families take care of the elderly?
A place where locals move around in motorised buggies rather than walk?
A place where the women wear a hijab instead of flowers in their hair and the men dress in shirts and long trousers instead of singlets and shorts like they used to?
A place where English is the second language?
A place where muslims and non-muslims live apart on two islands separated by a lagoon but in terms of values are worlds apart?
A place where fewer than 30% of the locals over the age of 15 have full-time employment?
A place where the local community is becoming more orthodox in its faith due to exposure to the outside world via modern communication? 
A place where Islamic and Western worlds meet face to face?

Aaaaaahhhh!!!! The Cocos Islands, our unsinkable aircraft carrier in the Indian Ocean, a place for limited fun and frolic provided you dress appropriately and seek permission from the muslim community to do just about .... anything. 
It's a bit of hike to get there but well worth it once you do .... according to the locals who knew they were on to a good thing when they opted to become Australian citizens in 1984. After all, they've been there for nigh on two centuries when they arrived as .... well, not quite tourists, more like slaves to labour mightily for the masters of the island, the Clunies-Ross mob from Scotland, who to be fair, also laboured mightily but were better rewarded for their entrepreneurship.
Now, we own it and them (not to put too fine a point on it) and we must pay for the privilege. We have successfully spawned our own far-flung dependency but this one differs from our other external territories in that it is totally dependent on us for ...... everything.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

THE PAST IS ANOTHER PLACE ALRIGHT

I arrived in Oz in the penultimate year of the sixties
at a time when man was exploring our galaxy, landing on the moon
a time when people were physically involved in their world
where virtual reality was unreal or unheard of
but the past is another place ....
This was a time when Australians were still Australians
rather than merely Americans 
who happen to have been born on the wrong side of the Pacific
and therefore have all their faults without any of their virtues
but the past is another place ....
It was a time for truth rather than ephemisms
before our vocabulary was hijacked by the artistry of wank-words
and acronyms spewed forth from mouths in vile bureaucratese
which defeated the purpose of the message being delivered to the people
it was a time when people spoke civilly to each other
acknowledged and respected one another as the young did then
but the past is another place ....
on your birthday or at Christmas you received a few treasured gifts
and when 12 years of schooling finally ended you didn't do 'schoolies'
instead you looked forward to finding a job or university
and saved like mad for a car or for an overseas holiday
lived at home until you earned enough dough to get a place of your own
or shared a place with others like-minded, enjoying your individuality
but the past is another place ....
A celebration meant something then, now we even 'celebrate' death
everything's 'win-win', even the 7 year old who came last gets an award
what are we celebrating? Mediocrity? Self-centredness?
today tenants have more rights than landlords who provided them a place to live
but that's "cewl"as the young would vacuously exclaim today
middle-class welfare? Hell, you were on the dole or on compo if you couldn't work
we were more of an egalitarian society then
there was a small rich class and the rest of us packed a work ethic in our lunchbox ...
when we set off for work 
but the past is another place ...
Give the financial lenders their due then, you got bugger-all credit
and only after the most stringent checks that tested your capacity to pay
you didn't spend more than you earned, a simple rule of thumb
simple basic tenets that paid dividends in life, much later
But the past is another place ....
Now current generations despise us, envy us and cry 'you had it easy'
without taking the mote or three out of their eyes
instead of perhaps thanking us for our foresight, our caution, our prescience
unequivocally, I declare that I do not hanker for it
but the past is another place and they do things differently there

Sunday, January 4, 2009

THE LOW COST OF HYDROGEN

Now we know that Jesus turned water into wine
because it says so in the Bible
what about turning water into hydrogen
by harnessing the powers tidal?
up in the Kimberleys where giant tides
pour vast floods of water through cliff-banked channels
whose horizontal waterfalls tantalise lateral thinkers
of boundless clean, renewable energy without parallels
hydrogen's allure has no carbon emissions when burned
its only by-products are heat and water
and, that it could end the worlds reliance on oil
would have a greenie willing to sacrifice a son or daughter
you use tidal power to make electricity
which is used to split water into hydrogen and oxygen
you can take as much as you need today ... for tomorrow
it re-appears with the tide just like 'the magic pudding'
we need to start today to make it tomorrows reality
by 2030 my annual petrol bill could cost more than my home
while we humans argue about fossil fuels versus alternatives
in languid indifference ... the giant tides daily flow and foam 

Saturday, January 3, 2009

THE BOARDROOM BLUNDERER

They've got the world on a string and in a mess
these non-executive directors of Australia's boardroom club
some them legendary for buggering-up good firms
in sinecures or through cronyism ... I kid you not, bub

The most unworthy of 'em all, Elizabeth Nosworthy
has sent three big, greedy non-performers to the wall
while getting shit-loads of lucre in directors fees and shares
under her stewardship, she 'directed' 'em to their fall

In an electoral rort that would make Robert Mugabe blush
she and her ilk are returned to boards with 90% of the vote
SallyAnne, Anthony, Mansfield, McGauchie, Ward, Dixon, Hegarty
Gorves, Stockdale. Eddington, Fell .. the share-holder's the goat

These unscrupulous Teflon people who keep getting invited back
have "strategies" that preside over joblessness and a declining nation
depart long before the results of their handiwork is apparent
to pop again in positions of power ad causing no consternation

This "Dishonour Roll" of immoral shits continues to take us all for a ride
they've no problems sleeping at night or snouting in troughs by day
it's nice work if you can get it (if that's what it's called)
while you and I will continue to pay and pay and pay and pay .....


Thursday, January 1, 2009

LIFE'S IRONIES

Isn't it one of life's supreme ironies
that the people who are paid the most
and endowed with the perks of the job
are the one's required to expend the least?
Directors, Chief Execs, Presidents, Chairmen
very few of them altruists in truth
many obscenely remunerated or in sinecures
courtesy of the old school tie, a club or by birth
And what of those paid the least?
truckies, nurses, check-out people, scientists
teachers, garbage-men, car assemblers all working Dickensian hours
no lurks, perks, tax-write downs .. there's the twist
Ford's wage-earners can't have a $20 rise but ...
The head sharang Jacques Nasser is forced to take a $19 million salary
shelf-stackers, bus drivers, petrol station hands get bugger-all
while Mr Eck at Coles get's a $4 million bonus as the top canary
There must be a moral to all this irony
share-holders, apparently, have lost the plot 
or so the talking-heads, grifters, suits or carpet-strollers would have us believe
their copy-books have absolutely no blot
In our ignorance we condone or help perpetuate
a system iniquitous and blatantly unfair
for there aren't too many of us with our snouts in the trough
why, even the pigs are flying .. they've left in despair