Australian Politics is tough stuff...!

“Gillard will call a ballot for the Labor Party leadership at 10am on Monday”

“I expect to receive the support of my colleagues when I do so,” ~ Julia

“Kevin Rudd has confirmed he will take on Julia Gillard at a party room leadership vote on Monday as he tries to make a comeback as prime minister.”

“Kevin Rudd as prime minister struggled” ~ Julia

“Ms Gillard is expected to comfortably win”

“Rudd had been “impossible” to work with and Ms Gillard was best placed to lead the government and party.” ~ Defence Secretary

“Rudd backers emerge as Gillard fights”

“The odds of Julia Gillard remaining prime minister after Monday’s Labor leadership ballot have shrunk to just $1.15”, Sportingbet Australia says.

Ms Gillard’s odds tightened from $1.28 during Thursday morning as punters piled in with some huge bets on the prime minister after she called for a ballot that she expects Kevin Rudd to contest after he resigned as foreign minister.

Well fight fans, after weeks of speculation and press priming it’s here, the battle royale, th’ royal rumble for the heavyweight championship of Australia… Kev “The Jackhammer” Rudd on the comeback trail versus Julia “Th’ Boss” Gillard… and the prize? The top job, the Prime Ministership of Australia… this is heady stuff… who needs soap operas, Neighbours or Days of our lives? We’ve got ~

AUSSIE POLITICS

“I have something to say… it’s better to burn out than to fade away. There can be only one…raaaarrrrgh…!”

~ The Kurgan from Highlander

The Stoush

Take your seat ringside,

Th' day has finally come,

One will come out on top,

One will come undone.

Fight of the century,

 It's Gillard versus Rudd,

At stake is th' top job,

One a winner, one will be a dud.

For Julia or Kev

Will it be the back bench,

Will it be retirement,

For th' boy or th' wench?

Back to Th' Lodge,

One will get the free pass,

One will get a swift kick,

In their political ass...!

Grab a deckchair and a can,

Monday is almost here,

As long as we don't end up with Abbott,

Coz that's our biggest fear.

Ooroo cobbers,

T.

Pic. credit ~ http://www.mix97.com/

Yes ladies and gentlemen, that’s right, visiting with “heroines” should be the title. You’ve been subjected to some of the all-round favourites of my musical tastes and now I’d like to take a little time out and focus on the ladies that have, and do, rock my world…!

Needless to say, in number 1 spot is my beautiful, kind, caring,

wonderful, sweet and awesome babe-a-licious wife Lady M…!

Now we’ll move onto the ladies of music that count as my favourites ~

PLAY                                          PLAY

PLAY                                     PLAY

                                                                                 PLAY

PLAY                                   PLAY

                                                PLAY

                                                                                    PLAY                                    PLAY

                                                                                    PLAY                                    PLAY

               PLAY                                 PLAY

                                                                                          PLAY

PLAY                                         PLAY

Like I said, some of the ladies that get this old blokes motor runnin’…

“Rock on”

T.

Pic. credit ~ http://free-extras.com/

It’s flashy, chaotic, frequently confusing, risky and it has a light side and a dark side…

Pic. collaboration ~ 'Steel Tee' & http://www.kandeej.com/

Have you ever stopped to wonder why horror movies, suspense and thriller movies and disaster movies are so popular? Is it because we enjoy watching people fighting insurmountable odds for their very sanity or survival or is it something deeper, is it something dark, something threatening, something primordial that imbues us with a fear of the “dark”, a fear of the quintessential “thing under the bed”?

How often have you lay in bed at night, in the absence of any light and just breathed in the darkness? Let it wrap itself around you until it almost feels like a silky shroud while your mind wanders along ever darker pathways in the inner recesses of your thinking?

There is no doubt, whatsoever, that the darkness in life is still one of the strongest and most intimidating things we face, just as our distant ancestors huddled in dank caves quivering in the darkest night so too our minds cringe inside our frame, from time to time, as we submit to terrors both real and imagined. Perhaps, secretly, there isn’t a man, woman or child amongst us that isn’t afraid of the dark still.

Consider also, do ALL crimes happen at night? do ALL inhumanities confine themselves to just the moonlit hours? Are wars only fought at NIGHT? ~ Isn’t it more plausible to suggest that “darkness” is with us all the time, even hiding in plain sight in the light?

Thus, dear friends, when a poet looks out from his “intellectual ivory tower” is it possible that he will almost always see, and recognise the darkness?

Everyday I Die

 “Schizotypal Personality Disorder refers to a “pervasive 
  pattern of social and interpersonal deficits marked by 
  acute discomfort with, and reduced capacity for, close 
  relationships as well as by cognitive or perceptual 
  distortions and eccentricities of behavior.”* 

On dark and twisted roads
Encased in their electrodes
Fear and pain so erodes
Every day I die

No answers for my peace
This body? Just a lease
No, it will never cease
Everyday I die
 
“These normal fragments of personality 
   are often called ego states, a term derived
   from the clinical hypnosis work of John  
   and Helen Watkins. In contrast, 
   Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) 
   is an abnormal condition in which the 
   personality becomes so fragmented that 
   the various parts cannot even communicate with each other. 
 
   On the other hand, no one can understand 
   the process by which the human brain can create
   and hold separate, and distinct, each different personality.”*

Thunder rolls in my head
Crushing weight, cold dread
Lay me in your soft bed
Everyday I die

Give me pills to cure all ills
Take my picture, horror stills
Before this sickness fills
Everyday I die

“Starting with Freud’s (1925) definition of psychoanalysis
  as the science of unconscious mental processes I asked 
  the following basic question, "Is psychoanalysis about 
  unconscious reality or about unconscious fantasy? Is the
  patient responding to the reality of the therapeutic situation,
  or to something fantastical within the patient”*

Raise my shattered eye
See black hole in the sky
No angels song for I
Everyday I die

If there ever was a time
Long since I crossed that line
Recall my greatest crime
Everyday I die

“No matter what psychoanalytic school we belong to 
  we know that, at some point in therapy, the patient’s
  transference must be explained if we are to hope for 
  the patient’s lasting improvement.”*
 
If I had a tear to cry
If I had the will to try
All I manage is a sigh
Everyday I die

“This rule applies even to the most destructive and
  frightening personality parts—for these parts are
  usually the ones who bear the most pain and 
  therefore need the most help. A threatening attitude
  by one part usually serves as a defense  against a 
  feared betrayal of trust, as in “I’ll hurt myself before 
  I let you close enough to hurt me.” The whole 
  process takes courage for both the psychotherapist 
  and the client.”*
 
Everyday I die
Everyday I die
Everyday I………………

Copyright TB(except*) 2003~2012

Jagged

Life and time cover, a suffocating blanket ragged,
Staring into a broken, reflected image jagged,
Tenderly feel the ridged scars, on this sick brain,
Lost in Morrison’s “Roman wilderness of pain”.

Ozzy asked the question, pleading in refrain,
Shock word, “Help me people, am I going insane”,
Floyd cried, “Got to keep the loonies off the grass”,
Stumbling, demented, savage rage, will – it - pass?

Defend the indefensible, till worries claim no more,
Make up in the mirror, slashed, scarlet, whore,
Mistake the sigh of lovers, for a dying breath,
Coiled in sleepless blankets, praying for a death.

Destroy the innocence, that marks our lost way,
Brain expanding, too crowded – take them away,
Too much time to use, too many souls to lose,
Carter gave us the insight, “Falling on a bruise.”

Tear the flesh from my bones, too many unknowns,
Milling people pass me by, vacant eyed clones,
The last and finale, closing act of some sick play,
Emulate Sid Vicious – I did it all my way

Copyright TB 2003~2012

The Silence

I listen for the beat of my heart; there is nothing there to hear,
I listen for the sound of my breath; in silence I hear only fear,
I listen for your voice; I only hear the silent trickle of the tear,
I listen for the recrimination in the mirror, I only hear a sneer.

I look inside my mind, I see a thousand people that are blind,
I look inside my marble tomb, not knowing what I would find,
I look to you for any answer, find my death warrant is signed,
I look within this mortal cage, each day of my life does enrage.

I shout but no one seems to hear, truth never seemed so clear,
I shout until I am hoarse and faint, what is there to hold dear?
I shout until my voice cracks, in the wasteland of life so drear,
I shout until walls of Valhalla tremble, I still cannot draw near.

I fight until I cannot stand; the turmoil rocks my world and soul,
I fight any who will come near; this is my endless worldly role,
I fight until all battles are done, no more army in which to enrol,
I fight though spirit has gone; I fight from the blackest hellhole.

I whisper into deepest night, where the shadows merge with lies,
I whisper to your secret heart, where the softest songbird cries,
I whisper to the madness in my soul, where hope flickers and dies,
I whisper my dying prayers to heaven, but never get any replies.

©TB 2003~2012

City of…

Between faded brownstones,
In cold tenements of grey,
Minds dulled by social control,
Preside over hearts of clay.
Sightless eyes behold,
The weak and poor getting rolled,
Bundled rags seek shelter,
From cardboard tents in the cold.

The black and white’s slide by,
The night’s sullen cast,
No lights can penetrate shadows,
Where deals are made fast.
Time can have no meaning,
Except by the factory clock,
And boughs break under infants,
That never had a chance to rock.

The suits, crims and junkies,
Mingle in their scores,
To the mighty god ‘Dollar’,
We are all wretched whores.
Streets fill with desperate faces,
All counting up the cost,
Of having dared once to dream,
Then watch those dreams lost.

Or they sit at kitchen tables,
With the demands strewn about,
Before going to the garage,
And blowing their brains out.
Perhaps they’ll take the hit,
To get out of life’s rain,
A massive shot of pure horse,
Straight into hardening vein.

The sadness and the darkness,
No movie show can relate,
No television commentators,
Can adequately debate.
Shuffling home at day’s end,
Strong, rich or plain,
We all face the fears,
Of darkness descending again.

© TB 2012

Lords of Science

A vortex in the cortex,
Multiply rods in the eyes,
Volatile solution in veins,
Our science your God defies.
Haemoglobin through the heart,
Steroid enhancement supplies,
Genetic molecular anomaly,
To supply the perfect prize.

Skeleto-muscular rebuild,
Insertion of cerebral shields,
Hypo-dosed timed release,
To enhance the neural fields.
Instant plasmodesmatic bonds,
Endoskeletal molecular cover,
Wet-wired to synaptic cords,
Could be a bio-engineered lover.

Dampeners on biological function,
Electro-stimulate the reflex speed,
Hyper-metabolic rates increase,
90 percent decrease of  human need.
Our theories and our experiments,
They are growing ever bolder,
We will give the lucky world,
The ultimate genetic-soldier.

Copyright TB 2012

Darkness, I would argue, takes many shapes and forms and we can’t always recognise them until it’s too late.

Regards,

T.

Our Sun in extreme Ultraviolet Light ~ Pic. credit: http://solar.physics.montana.edu/

It provides the planet with life-giving warmth, energy and maintains a balance within our solar system.

“The Sun is a low mass star on the outer reaches of the Milky Way galaxy. The Sun is some 30,000 light years from the center of the Milky Way and lies on one of the spiral arms. At this distance, it takes about 250 million years to complete an orbit around the galaxy.

 Earth-Sun Distance: 150 million km (93 million miles)

Elemental Composition of Sun: 74% Hydrogen, 25% Helium, 1% other (by mass).

Solar Luminosity: ~ 4 x 10³³ erg/s. [As bright as 4 trillion trillion 100-watt light bulbs]

Age of Sun: 4.5 billion years.”

READ MORE

“The Sun is currently traveling through the Local Interstellar Cloud in the Local Bubble zone, within the inner rim of the Orion Arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Of the 50 nearest stellar systems within 17 light-years from Earth (the closest being a red dwarf named Proxima Centauri at approximately 4.2 light years away)“

READ MORE

However, a look at the motions and the activity of the Sun paint a very different picture from our benevolent and life-giving companion star. The sheer ferocity of the conditions at its surface can only be imagined, and then, not easily…

Sun’s deadly dance caught on camera

Yahoo!7 February 18, 2012, 10:40 am

“Astronomers were given a spectacular show on the sun as a “solar tornado” made its way across the surface.

The footage, captured over a 30-hour period by NASA‘s Solar Dynamics Observatory. captures the slow-moving solar flares as they danced across the surface.”

READ MORE

If you want to take a fascinating visual trip to our Sun then visit the homepage of the NASA Solar Dynamics Observatory Mission and check out some of the videos and pictures… some of it is absolutely breathtaking.

LINK                  Video Gallery Link

When you’ve had your fill of visual stimuli come on back and let’s imagine the world without the sun, courtesy of one history’s greatest ever poets ~ 

~ Darkness ~

George Gordon Lord Byron

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went -and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light;
And they did live by watchfires -and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings -the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire -but hour by hour
They fell and faded -and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash -and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them: some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless -they were slain for food;
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; -a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought -and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails -men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress -he died.
The crowd was famished by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage: they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects -saw, and shrieked, and died -
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death -a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped
They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -She was the Universe!

Hope you enjoyed this ‘solar’ presentation…

Regards,

T.

I don’t know if you’ll recall these pictures, they were the pictures my dear wife originated as a challenge for the poet in me. The task before me was to write a poem for each of these pictures. It limits the freedom to move that this pet generally employs and forces thoughts in a specific direction… a handy exercise I think. Anyway, I thought on it all for a while and came up with the following: (All, naturally, copyright TB 2012)

1) The Panda

What should we call the bear,
A-climbing in the tree?
Should we bother asking,
Just what he can see?

Does he seek his friend,
The honourable mynah?
Or is he seeking out,
A suitable bear type diner?

If a bough were to break,
What would the Panda do?
Instead of being black and white,
He’d end up black and blue.

2) Marvin

We’ve been taught always,
About the end of days,
It’s all because of aliens,
That’s what Hollywood says.

They’re kinda green or grey,
With razor like claws,
Or covered in something slimy,
Or have odd misshapen paws.

They come in giant ships,
And terrorize the land,
Some don’t like salt water,
I barely understand.

We’ve the tricks to fight them,
We know just what to do,
We just send out Bugs Bunny,
POW…the aliens are through.

3) Mirror Shades

Mirror shades glisten,
With sights from a dream,
Of sun soaked beaches,
Or a sun dappled stream.

They watch sights in Paris,
In London and in Rome,
Some of the best sights,
Can be found right at home.

Wear them when walking,
Wear them out on the town,
Wear them out at night,
When you’re boogieing on down.

Wear them out at the races,
Wear them out at the game,
Don’t wear them in the office,
It’ll make you look quite lame.

And I hope you can avoid,
The mirror shades that annoy me,
The one’s on the traffic cop,
That was hiding behind a tree.

4) Zipper

The zipper my friend the zipper,
Mankind’s greatest boon,
No struggling with beastly buttons,
Means relief can come quite soon.
We can fasten swiftly jackets,
Zip up our patent briefcases,
The zipper’s advent means,
We can quickly be in more places.

There is nothing more delightful,
Indeed I really have to confess,
Than candlelight, music and wine,
And the sound of an unzipped dress.
The zipper my friend, oh the zipper,
There really is no equal contest,
When it’s zippers versus buttons,
The wonderful zipper wins the test.

However, there is one small thing,
One thing that could be better,
From the world’s poorest pauper,
To the billionaire jetsetter,
It’s the one thing sure to bring,
Tears instantly to the eyes,
When you get your John Thomas,
Caught up in your flies.

Now, while I was thinking about, and creating, in answer to this challenge I created another little “exercise” or poetic game. I took several of my favourite songs and created a haiku style poem for each one. I won’t tell you what the songs are, see if you can guess from the poem and if not then press the play button.

In many a house
When the days new sun is near
Men in moral fear

? PLAY ?

Stand by a red door
Watch winter darkness flow past
Time will end at last

? PLAY ?

The eve of the end
That is what they used to say
No change here today

? PLAY ?

Summer sun blazing
On mountain, on sea and streams
This the stuff of dreams

? PLAY ?

Goddess rarely seen
Oh she of the crystal eyes        
Bearing loves sweet lies

? PLAY ?

As you can see, my Muse has been a-visiting of late…

Kind regards and respects to all,

T.

Pic. Credit: NASA/CXC/MIT/Frederick K. Baganoff et al.

The supermassive black hole at the centre of our galaxy

“Sagittarius A* — or Sgr A*, as it’s more commonly described — is a supermassive black hole at the center of our Milky Way. It’s big and bad, containing about 4 million times the mass of our sun.”

READ MORE

…and here’s another Supermassive Black Hole for ya… a bit closer to home…

PLAY

Mwahahahahahahaha…

*Rox on*

T.

Five Oz cities among 20 most expensive

AAP Updated February 14, 2012, 6:45 pm

“Australian cities rank among the world’s 20 most expensive places to live.

They rank ahead of London, New York, Rome, Los Angeles, Berlin or Hong Kong, the latest survey by the Economist Intelligence Unit finds.”

“Sydney globally is ranked at number seven, slightly ahead of Melbourne at number eight.

Perth is the 13th most expensive place to live in the world, Brisbane is 14th and Adelaide is 18th.”

“It now costs more to live in each of the five Australian cities than London, New York, Rome, Los Angeles, Berlin or Hong Kong.”

“At the other end of the scale the least expensive city in the world is Muscat, in Oman.”

READ MORE

The only thing that’s sadder than that news is that wages aren’t keeping pace with anything anymore…! In Australia you’re either rich or poor, there’s no middle ground anymore.

Think I’m gonna be a…

Muscat Man  (To a blues beat…)

I'm hitchin' up mah load,
An' headin' down th' road,
Ahm goin' to Muscat man,
Tha's right, Muscat in O-man.
Gonna hook me up some brothers,
Form an Omani band,
We gonna play out our gigs,
In a land of sun and sand.

Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
A Muscat man in O-man,
Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
Tha's gonna be the plan.

They say th' livin's fine,
It hardly costs a dime,
To be a happy man,
In Muscat man, Oman.
Maybe jump a boat,
Might take a plane,
Anyways you know,
Ahm goin' jus' th' same.

Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
A Muscat man in Oman,
Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
Tha's gonna be the plan.

(Insanely brilliant blues guitar solo inserted here)

Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
A Muscat man in Oman,
Gonna be a Muscat man,
(Spoken) Tha's right,
Tha's gonna be the plan.

Oh yeeeeeah a Muscat man...
I said yeeeeeah, a Muscat man...
(Spoken) Said ahm gonna be happy,
(Spoken) Said ahm gonna be rich, y'heah what ahm sayin'?
Oh yeeeeeah a Muscat man...
I said yeeeeeah, a Muscat man, man O-man...

Can you dig it cobbers???

Cheers,

T.

Pic. credit ~http://www.plantbiotech.com.au/

Xanthorrhoea Preissii,

The Xanthorrhoea preissii, also known as the “grass tree”, is more commonly known to Australians as a “Blackboy”. This stems from the legend that each of these plants is actually the embodied spirit of a deceased Australian Aboriginal (indigenous person) that has returned to the land from which, it is said, they all come.

Th’ story of Jackie Black

I remember back to the old station,
It was a ways off out th’ back,
Mum, dad, me brothers and sisters,
And a burly stockman name of Mack.
I remember a jackeroo to boot,
No finer fella you’d meet on any track,
No one could say his tribal name,
So we called him Jackie Black.

It was during my tenth year I recall,
During that wild time of storms,
Lightning seared the skies all ‘round,
Clouds piled in fantastic forms.
We were all out lendin’ a hand,
Cleanin’ up about the homestead,
When the smell of a bushfire,
Filled us one and all with dread.

We heard the distant cracklin’ roar,
Watched the smoke crest over the trees,
The sorta sight and sound,
Makes a bushie weak at the knees.
Dad and Mack were down th’ front,
They were roundin’ up th’ stock,
Mum came dashin’ out of the house,
She looked like she’d had a shock.

“Where’s Denny and Emmy” she cried,
She stopped and stood stock still.
“They was playin’ down the creek” says Stan,
“Where the billabong is by th’ hill”.
Well Jackie who was nearby looked,
And he never made no sound nor spoke,
Just turned his little pony about,
And plunged into that wall of smoke.

Dad and Mack came up an’ around,
Drivin’ the sheep in a flock ahead,
Pushed ‘em into the big yard,
Out th’ back of the shearin’ shed.
“Where’s that flamin’ Jackie”
I heard me dad shout an’ curse,
We told him what had happened,
He looked like he’d seen a hearse.

We sorta just stood frozen there,
Our panic we tried to restrain,
Just then a pony burst out of the scrub,
Two kids grabbin’ his smokin’ mane.
Denny and Emmy ran to mum,
And their hysterics she tried to tame,
How Jackie put ‘em up and drove ‘em off,
While he was beatin’ back th’ flame.

Two days before we could get in there,
When the weather came on more fine,
But of the valiant Jackie Black,
There wasn’t one solitary sign.
Curious thing though down by the creek,
Near the charred billabong scene,
A blackboy stood tall and strong,
Where we knew there’d never been.

For years after that fateful day,
That sturdy plant it firmly stood,
Reminded us of everything in the land,
That was hardy, brave and good.
And on certain days down the creek,
In amongst the clumping trees,
I coulda sworn I heard Jackie laughin’,
On the warm afternoon breeze.

©TB 2012

The slippery slide…

(Sub-titled: ‘Ere We Go Again)

There’s a new class of poor coming,
Not thanks to the Chinese or Yanks,
We couldn’t be that lucky,
It’s because of our flamin’ banks.
The RBA said “hold it”,
They kept the rates the same,
The banks are jacking theirs up,
They’re greedy and insane.

The interest rate stays the same,
That’s the official word,
Obviously the banks are deaf,
It’s like they never heard.
So now the lower end worker,
Is stuck with payin’ more,
We’re gettin’ s-----d again,
Just like so many times before.

So now comes pressure on wages,
Just to meet the cost,
More workers costin’ more,
Bosses tellin’ ‘em to get lost.
Cost of production goes up,
Cost of goods is on the rise,
We should de-regulate banking,
That’d open up their eyes.

So while the CEO’s get richer,
The worker gets the gong,
No wonder in th’ “lucky country”,
Only twenty percent get along.
Pretty soon you’ll find us,
Lying on the beaches by the sea,
The majority of people in Australia,
Living in unemployable poverty.

©TB 2012

Fate’s decree

Australia is th’ lucky country,
That’s what they used to say,
Always braving the hard knocks,
An’ bouncing back anyway.
Aussies rode the beach at Gallipoli,
We were in France back in ’16,
The flag flew in Greece in ’41,
And in Korea it was again seen.

We didn’t shirk in Vietnam,
Nor in The Gulf or Afghanistan,
Australia never dodged a duty,
We never cut and ran.
Ironic then that the end looms,
Not at the hands of enemy force,
But from our internal woes,
Bureaucracy gone mad of course.

Foreign investors buying up,
Our banks stickin’ th’ boot in,
Bleedin’ hearts erode our values,
The country’s in a real spin.
The people must be heard again,
Somehow somewhere and sometime,
The power pulled from th’ ‘fat cats’,
The rorts they pull are a crime.

It’s hard to have national pride,
When you’re being taken for a ride,
Someday the strata of the greedy rich,
An’ the workin’ class will collide.
An’ when the dust finally settles,
And equality is finally restored,
Then Australia will once again be,
A lucky country to be adored.

Th’ day when a man is paid,
For what he’s truly worth,
Th’ day when our pollies stop,
Tryin’ to please everyone on earth.
Th’ day when scheming financiers,
Are told to pull their head in,
Th’ day when we realise that,
Th’ way we’re treated is a sin.

Th’ day when they stop paying,
Our kids to leave their homes,
Th’ day when they take a hard look,
At th’ bureaucrats choking tomes.
Th’ day when people say “enough”,
Tell ‘em we’re awake to their game,
We’ll be a “nation” proper again,
And not one simply in name.

©TB 2012

Cadence Call…

Based on the concept of the military marching style of cadence that is called to keep time in the steps or speed of the movement. The Cadence is called by the drill instructor, hereafter referred to as DI ) and echoed by the rest of the personnel…(hereafter referred to as P ) here is a cadence I have written for us…

DI: I don’t know but I’ve been told,
P: Repeat
DI: The Labor Party is going to fold,
P: Repeat
DI: With them then the Greens will drown,
P: Repeat
DI: And the Liberals are led by a clown.
P: Repeat

DI: Sound off
P: Oz-ee in woe
DI: Sound off
P: ‘ere we go.

DI: Daddy told me it ain’t right,
P: Repeat
DI: Hear mum cryin’ in th’ night,
P: Repeat
DI: Fac-tor-y is closin’ down,
P: Repeat
DI: Dad’s laid off with half th’ town
P: Repeat

DI: Sound off
P: Oz-ee in woe
DI: Sound off
P: ‘ere we go.

DI: Think I’ll get me on a plane,
P: Repeat
DI: Set down in some foreign rain,
P: Repeat
DI: Get away from this farce,
P: Repeat
DI: Aussie government can kiss my a***
P: Repeat

DI: Sound off
P: one, two
DI: Sound off
P: three, four
DI: ONE, TWO
P: THREE, FOUR.

© TB 2012

Hoo-raw cobbers…!

Cheers,

T.

Pic. credit ~ http://fallout.wikia.com/

I was born in 1962, that makes me… let’s see… NO, let’s not… LOL

When most folks think of the sixties and music they will latch onto names like The Doors, Jimi Hendrix, The Mama’s and The Papa’s,  Donovan, The Animals, Herman’s Hermits and the like… but when I go back there it’s time to clear a space in the living room and crank up the volume… I like to think more along the lines of…

Pic. credit ~ classicpopicons.com

PLAY

 PLAY                     PLAY

Pic. credits ~ last.fm and blogg.org

PLAY                                PLAY

Pic. credit ~ last.fm

PLAY             PLAY

Pic. credits ~ findagrave.com & jasobrecht.com

PLAY          PLAY

Rock on cats…

T.

Pic. credit ~ http://www.everythingusb.com/

I refer, with great respect, to a poem by the exemplary Dennis N. O’Brien entitled “The Lone Ruddster” It is, perforce, an Aussie poem, about Aussie politics so if you’re not quite sure what he’s on about take my word for it ~ the bloke’s a genius and more than that he has inspired me to respond in like fashion…

Hi ho Ruddster – awaaaaaaaaay…!

There’s a scuffling in Canberra,
Maybe a change in the wind,
P’raps we’ll find ourselves stuck,
With he whom has once sinned.
Long knives glint in backrooms,
The numbers are being counted,
Secret deals in the washrooms,
The P.M. mayhap stuffed and mounted?
Will Swanny keep his post?
Will he end up where he began?
Or will he spend the rest of his life,
As Australia’s ambassador to Iran?
P’raps they’ll bring ol’ Fitzy back,
To lead the nation’s forces,
One thing’s for sure they’ll need,
Some ships and a few more horses.
Did Bill get it right that day,
Was it insulation, tax and emission,
That downed the honorable Ruddy,
And led to our Julia’s ascension?
One thing’s fer sure we’re dazzled,
Whether Liberal, Labor or Green,
There’s more noise comin’ from Canberra,
Than from a flamin’ Collins submarine.

© TB 2012

Now then, while we are on the subject of poetry there’s a couple of other things I want to share. One of them is another work by Dennis O. It is entitled “Offensive Poets” and rings a bell with any poetic author I think, it certainly did with me.

Poets are offensive but only when the situation calls for it methinks. We are kinda like the “Batman” of every place, we remain poised for action in our secret hideouts and when the need arises we leap into action at our keyboards… our keyboards and our words are most certainly, to my mind, our weapons.

We can wield the sharp blade of satire and “black” humour, such as is to be found in the matchless adaptation by Dennis Lange, The Venerable Bard, entitled “Twinkie Twinkie Golden Bar“

We can draw such pictures of beauty and joy like “Hold this Dear Mountain” by Linda Willows and we can draw cerebral pictures of such sensational nature as the poem “Cyclone” by Maggie Mae I. Whatever needs be done we can do, without hesitation, without trepidation and with no guide save our muse and our imagination.

We are travellers in time and space, we can go

                                                                                                                                                                                  in the blink of an eye…!

It’s so easy…

It's so easy my friends, as you will see,
To perpetrate a rhyme all about me,
Comin' outta your screen, I'm on the attack,
Gonna roll over you, like a 60 tonne Mack.

I'll leave you on th' floor, screamin' for more,
Me an' my entourage, are headed for th' door,
Don't mean no disrespect, but you better get lost,
Keepin' up with me? You can't afford the cost.

I use my words like steel, like a new set of wheels,
Pure speed my friend, that's how it feels,
Just when you think you're there, I have the last laugh,
Fingers rippin' the keyboard, I cut you in half.

I ain't gonna lose it, I ain't gonna blow it,
Steely eyed and cold, I'm a master poet,
Watch out for the words, when I fire away,
My keyboard is my Uzi, if you're in the way.

copyright TB 2012

The Tryst

The Wood Lark softly sings,
I' th' shaded bower,
As afternoon drifts t'ward,
The gentle twilight hour.

Tranquil summer skies,
Where drift clouds o' white,
Young lovers now await,
The softest velvet night.

Beneath the starry dome,
To moonlit woodland glade,
There to pledge their troth,
Sweet promises are made.

Dreams o' life together,
Happy memories made o' this,
The pact once spoken,
Is sealed with a kiss.

copyright TB 2012

We can go anywhere, anytime, anyhow and we don’t need permission… to quote; or p’raps paraphrase, Rick Mayall…

“We’re just a bunch of wild eyed looners standing at the gates of oblivion trying to hitch a ride on the last freedom moped out of nowhere city… and we haven’t even told our mums what time we’ll be home…!”

POETS… LOVE ‘EM OR HATE ‘EM YA CAN’T IGNORE ‘EM…

And, if you’re looking for a challenge, try this.

Have a loved one, or friend, think up four words… completely random, off the top of their head. Now, go to the computer, go to Google and select ‘Google Images’. Type each word, in turn, into the search bar and then have your friend/loved one select ONE picture that comes up in the search images results for the word you typed in.

When you have the four pictures saved to your computer the challenge is on ~ you have to write a poem about each of the four pictures.

My beloved wife helped me, I think, and these are the pictures I have to work with:

Yep, that’s right, a Panda bear, Marvin the Martian, a pair of Glasses and a Zipper… four pictures, four poems…

Gotta go think a while.

Cheers,

T.