The last one of the year, in any case. Goodbye, 2014.
It took about a week to draw, but it’s finally finished… or maybe not.
I don’t even know anymore. MY EYES
Give me a damn warning
Sits massive, seated on the furry faux far down the couch
He is swatting swapping looks
Furtive glances steal the books
That lie unread
It can be said
That dreaded heads rock rolling beds
All over, this dry drover falls off four by four to dust
Where he blamed the camp
I don’t like this, I think it’s a game
I think it’s the same
Flow now unpretending
Stop tending amending
Miles away unattending
Fine is pending.
Your brain decay
Your same delay
You’re sane today.
Hip hip hooray!
And seeming this small torture
Bending backwards for debaucher
See the thistles popping into frame to remind you you’re from Away.
Such a dreary place
And a chaos of mace
Tanning beds for white race
Stumble in and out trace
Slim figures stalking streetline
Where the skyline meets the pie-line
There, the queue that tiptoes right across the footpath near the pub
They want coffee
Stopping short of blocking court proceedings withered
Hither thither to and fro
Pretend they’re early.
I liked the party
I wagged to be arty
I tagged myself in photos or it never happened at all.
There goes the white light honesty
The cost of honour, modesty
And honestly, can we really find the truth in any case?
Not today we can’t.
It’s a vote not an aunt
Not a singling out tone
Knot the rope not the phone
Draw the line on the dots
Or the fine from the cops
Stop the mine for the crops
Blotto mind from the hops
Godot blinded by shops.
I rode past singing
Blurting out to boys and zinging
Flinging my safe space to kingdomtown and voiceless prizes thatched
The rooves and hoofless hoppers
Striding down, the armoured coppers
Chuck their chin up high to melt away humanity onsite.
The kestrels swooping over
Think that they’ve got til October
Til the shooting guns are smoking
Cigarettes and butts are drowned
And the crowded site remaining
In this cesspool pit constraining
Concertina doored the floorway far beyond your wall or hall
Sat upon, some thrown before you
Or decry a moan for gore view
but thank god you’ve got your Netflix
And your armchair
It’s your drug.
Far beyond your wall the yellow
Crushing beasts tear up the earth
Fuck those people tonight
Fuck them all high and might
Strength is gone when one can no more eat;
The food is dried and wasted.
The tiniest drop of glitter
Bitter sitter on the edge of the shitter
Sees the drivel path, the vapid bath
That we all cluck and soak in
Vile creature, you before me
In your beauty, your adoring
nature feeble in its fickle realm
The poised and sitting still.
Heady eddy, water pacing
Fast and whips the mind is racing
Calm below the magic placement tasting richness is devoured
Flinging hours past incitement
of the violence of the Whitement
Concrete sets below the canopy of corporate spies and foes
Flies that whip around are treated
With much more respect than people
Who have lived this earth
And loved this earth
Til their bodies were taken and robbed.
Such slobs their captors howling
The befouling hours growling
With a beer in hand they’re slamming down the schooners four by four
And the blazing eyes are slowing
It’s anointment to be glowing
It’s an oi oi oi! to fertilise the mind and protect from pests
And the boy boy boys! in their virtual world
Whose wheezing cough envokes smoke whirls
Grimly hold on, senseless
Hurl abuse, chipped tooth to boost their grin.
Stave off the crises
Grave put off Pisces
Caved into heist sees
No other vent.
I wish you had the fortitude
To see past the ribbons, the cattle commute
And see there before you the wily confused
Whose fuse stews and simmers, who cannot refuse.
I don’t know how to wade
How to stave off, calve or save
But I’ve got friends who’ve won
Did a simple flatpack goodbye.
Packed up, bolts, and drive
Turning, screw and screw
It was never easy
We should’ve drawn instructions
Before the packdown.
She’s a fucking clown
And ace of brown
All Britishness blocked.
Hocking furniture gems
Thoughts thrown into blend
But the wind turns again
Thoughts stymie low on stove.
Back in baffletown
Why waste them
To be breathed in
Playing mirthfully with wonder
As we dance, I see its smile.
Sticking in the throat
Sinking into bloat
The ass time
Kicking stay afloat
Catharsis baked in tray
The treats are warming.
Just as globe is a mess and is storming
Warming probed by this pest
The mileage has entered a phase
But you’re not fazed
To accumulate knowing.
Even though we’re past our glowing
While we dither
Creatures blink past existence
Neath your feet
But the quiet pain is splintered
Nothing more than mild winter
Hear the clever child talk about the trees and be amazed
Doubt about the flouting characters
Who flaunt their clout and barristers
With their made-up tricks they force their way
Into fertile farms and fields.
Who could care about
The acid rain, the students’ shout?
The blasted feigning politics
Whose faceless fire threatens.
The letters sent from over sees
right through the lying rover
Needing prying blockhead shoulder
On whose power is surely leant.
Unkempt, the wild gratitude
The misspelt word
The false prelude
The meaning stinks of vile whim
Grim sinking ships assail.
The tacit net, the carrion
The corvid’s cry, the carry on
Of weeping mothers
Filtered through the journalists and him
Murdoch press he wrote
Sanctioned murder on boats
How fucking dare gloat
Over raw rocky lives
Newly ruined here in situ
Rolls hit you
Gold to shimmer in crevasse that widens
Neath your petty bleats.
I care for crickets
Not ashes to ashes
Load up babe with your cashes
Caches hunted by spies
Working hard overtime
Glowing orange with crime
Ill-defined time of thine.
Sink a shot
To take away
Brink, wave takes
I met this white man once in Europe, and have since kept him recessed online
to remind me why I think the way I think,
and respect those who I respect,
and revile those
whose words, spat with poison and written in blood
inject hatred, aggression and ignorance into Life.
It detracts from the discourse, the joy of the commune, so it’s time for simple poetry to address the malignancy of fear.
A Land Truly Girt
Shall I remind thee, human
Of our tiny tormented Blue Dot?
Should I iterate that irritations in noses get covered in snot?
Bear with me child;
Collective consciousness is just an airway
and racist dust does not last long; empty cells at the top of a stairway.
In this way you create your own prison
And scream at others to join you inside
Well, I’d much rather breathe in my Freedom
Having power with love in my stride.
See the movement of minds that are more than just matter
Overshadow the shallow dark waters you taint
and they’re cast from a mould that is forged in a mettle
where the torch is so strong that your image is faint
Overcast by the beings who soar high above you
you’re alone with your hatred in shadow on earth
For great heat dissipation takes place when damnation
grows a xenophobe mind in a being since birth.
Malignancy in tongue is more than cancerous to mind
You cannot sit with poison and expect all else to hurt
You’re blessed with eyes and ears and voice but use them all to bind
what could have been a resource in a land that’s truly Girt.
Til you find me one more planet to inhabit as a human
We are all a refugee and cling to life on the crumbling crust.
And these solid plates of agar, floating colonies on liquid
have been moving since Gondwanaland divided up in trust.
This behaviour’s kin to yelling at tectonics down beneath you;
“Get THE FUCK BACK ALL TOGETHER OR I’LL SHOOT YA IN THE CORE!”
No matter how you stamp your foot demanding all this movement,
Friend, you’re just a ball of atoms floating too on an infinite shore.
The robustness of your case to send back queue jumpers to sea
To keep your Straya drunk with fighting whites that’s right for you
Will be vilified, exemplar of the Racist Uptight Knights
and reminds me of a 3 year old I nannied- oh, wait, he was two.
You’re systematic in attacking what you fear will threaten your skin
Oblivious it cheapens all infinity to nought.
If aliens come to harvest some poor human for their sin
You’ll be the first to go my friend, and you can take your Thoughts.
My happiness was bubbling, I was on my bike again
No longer did I worry that my knee would snap and bend
I’d cycled several metres when I hit some broken glass –
Foreshadowing the people that I couldn’t cycle past.
I heard him first from faraway. It’s hard to miss that tone
The one that breaks into the night and makes you wish for home
I saw her then across the street. His gesture was a fist
A surge of panic rose within, this man was surely pissed
I watched in shock as 3 friends stood aside and down the road
As if this was just ‘another tiff’, and it wasn’t their Place to Impose
So I watched as the girl stood in silence, alone
As her boyfriend screamed into her face
And he told her to “shut the fuck up bitch I told you”, or he’d put her back into her place.
Little green man was lit, I was riding across, there I knew what my action would be
And I pulled up aside in my red floral dress… and where there was two, now was three.
But for just a quick moment I hated myself for engaging in what was not mine –
Then my courage returned like a jury spurred on by the potent injustice of crime
And I drew on the women in my life who’ve taken abuse at the hand of a man
“Are you OK?” I said to his back while his girlfriend cried into her hand.
Despite all the practice of centering self all my hackles were raised as he turned
to spit in my face “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!”
I stood bluffing, to seem unperturbed.
It was interesting. Holding his gaze was to call upon every. calm. cell. in my being.
But in those short few seconds I saw fire dampened by someone just sitting there, seeing.
He repeated his question, with less force but still force enough to dictate I’d be going
So I also repeated my question, imbuing my words with compassion and knowing.
And I saw this distraction from anger in action did soften his furious features
It’s so funny. Interactions with people on streets sometimes turn out to be the best teachers
Then I looked at the girl and saw shame in her tears and a sadness that this was a norm
And I cursed at the world that I had to encounter this violence in such common form
I felt 15 seconds was longer than weeks and I sensed my own tether was tight
By this time, 3 drunk men had caught up, deciding to yell and run after my bike
Instead of addressing depressing domestics in streets they put salt in the wound
And I spat on the ground and felt utterly shit that my courage imploded too soon
That this man in my face was abrasive enough to elicit a shuddering fear
Made me question how flimsy my stopping had been – sweet self deprecation had reared
Then I got home and chucked off my bag on the table and felt my whole thought process shift
Here I am feeling shit about stopping and caring and trying to settle that rift
Ain’t no man in a street will defeat my achievements of trying to live here and now
Holy shit look at what I can do with my body, I hula hoop with a big crowd
And I write when I can and I laugh more than most and I try to be good to the Earth
And I’m grateful for love and I’m happy to breathe and I’m thankful for my fleshy birth
There I realised that even though voices are loud one can win with a silence in sound
For the conquered are noisy and the angry lack vim, but the happy can never be bound.
We eat the cows that eat the grass
We mind the cows to eat their ass
We cheat the vows we made to last
We mined the earth in ages past
We beat the chimps to bigger brains
We wine and dine upon the trains
We fleeting people on the plains
We find it’s dry until it rains
We eat the grass and smoke it too
We kind of care but so do you
We sweetly love the food we chew
We pine for more, the lucky few
We treat the earth alike a buyer
We sign a contract: No to Fire
We greet the desert then perspire
We line for food and eat food prior
We earth the cable into ground
We mine the minds that come around
We mirthful creatures safe and sound
We shine when eating from plates round
An artwork in response to an amazing, earthing trip to the Australian desert in 2012.
The photographic prints were blown up, huge, on the wall.
The poem sat by their side,