HAPPY EASTMAS

This is the last in my trilogy of Chrismas poems for the year--Christmas has burnt me out this year--it seems to have been around forever--no sooner its gone it will be Easter and then it will be Christmas,and then it will be Easter-oh and a birthday and then it will be Christmas------ITS NEVER BLOODY ENDING--and how apt that I should be composing this at 11.30 at night,Christmas Eve 2006.Wife gone to sleep,turkey almost cooked--and I'm ready for bed. Happy Eastmas

IT WAS SOON,JUST AFTER EASTER
THAT SANTA SNUCK ON TO THE SHELVES.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BLOODY YEAR
WE SHOPPED,TO JINGLE BELLS.
THEY SAY,CHRISTMAS IS A HAPPY TIME
A JOYOUS ONE AS WELL.
BUT ITS NOT,NOT IN THEM BLOODY SHOPS,
IN THEM SHOPS IT BLOODY HELL.

"MUMMY,CAN I HAVE A DOLLY?"
"DADDY,CAN I HAVE A BALL?"
"IF YOU SOON DON'T STOP BLOODY NAGGING ME,
YOU'LL BE GETTING BUGGER ALL."
SO,I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF CHRISTMAS,
AND SO IT CAME TO PASS.
THE SHOPS ARE FULL OF LUNATICS,
AND YOU CAN SHOVE IT--UP YOUR ARSE.

BUT NOW,ITS CHRISTMAS EVE,
THE SHOPPINGS OVER,DONE.
IT'S TIME FOR HANGING STOCKINGS UP,
IT'S TIME FOR HAVING FUN.
THE OVENS ON,THE TURKEYS STUFFED
THE PUDDINGS MADE AS WELL
THE KIDS ARE SNUGGLED UP ASLEEP
AS FAR AS I CAN TELL.

AND SOON IT WILL BE OVER.
JUST ONE MORE SLEEP TO GO,
BUT FOR SANTA AND HIS REINDEER
THERE'LL BE NO REST YOU KNOW?
SO I GUESS I REALLY SHOULDN'T COMPLAIN,
BUT YOU KNOW WHAT ISN'T FUNNY
GO SHOPPING AFTER BOXING DAY,
THERE'S THE BLOODY EASTER BUNNY

"JUST A FLOWER IN A STORM"

You know what ? I'm 54 years of age,and thought I knew everything,infact I've told both my wife and my children so.Well,this week I've learnt three things.1) when a poem goes de dah, de dah, de dah,de dah etc etc--you know when in sings--it is known as scanning,I've been writing poetry for 44 years now,how did I miss that one.2) New cars these days have 4 good tyres,and one shitty one that you only put on while you get the proper one fixed--and then when you get the proper one fixed you change your tyre again--what wanker came up with that idea ?and 3) The Forget-Me Not flower is the poets "symbol of consistancy"--bet you didn't know that did you?--liar! I would like to dedicate this poem to a person who has become a dear friend of mine in Cyber Space-- Richard Of the Meek variety,an eclectic sort of person who haunts--sorry--hails from the leafy glades of Fakenham in Norfolk----he tells me I should write of proper things--like "What does it feel like to be a forget-me -not in a storm"--so I did.

JUST A FLOWER IN A STORM

I,AM A FORGET-ME -NOT
OF THE MYOSOTIS GENUS.
SOMETIMES KNOWN AS SCORPION GRASS,
TO THOSE OF YOU WHO'VE SEEN US.
I'M OFTEN SEEN ON RIVER BANKS
AROUND BROOKES AND PONDS AND LAKES
"THE POETS SYMBOL OF CONSISTANCY"
THOUGH WHY,FOR GOODNESS SAKE?

YOU MAY WONDER WHY I'M NAMED SO,
AS WELL I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT,
SO,I'LL TELL YOU HOW THE STORY WENT
OF A BRAVE AND GALLANT KNIGHT.
IT WAS COLD AND WINDY ON THIS DAY,
WHEN LOVERS CAME TO REST.
WHEN SHE SAW ME ON THE RIVERS EDGE
AND PUT HIM TO THE TEST.

"OH,I LOVE ITS PINK AND FLOWERING BUD,
YON FLOWER PICK FOR ME,
AND SHOULD YOU BRING ME BACK THE BLOOM,
I'LL GIVE A BIT-TO THEE"
WELL,THE KNIGHT DIDN'T NEED ANOTHER HINT,
HE JUMPED RIGHT IN AND SWAM,
"I'LL GET THEE BRIGHT AND YONDER BUD,
YOU'LL SEE HOW GOOD I AM."

OH,HOW HE LOVED THE MAIDEN.
ONLY HER,HE WISHED TO PLEASE.
PLUS,WOULD HE REALLY GET A BIT,
OR WAS THE WENCH A TEASE?
BUT ALAS,THE RIVER WAS A TEMPEST
A SWIRLING ANGRY RAGE.
AND,HE'D FORGOT HE COULDN'T SWIM
----NOT THE SMARTEST SAGE.

AS HE REACHED OUT FOR THE FLOWER,
WHEN HE NEARED THE OTHER BANK,
HE FELT SOMETHING IN THE WATER
GIVE HIS LEGS A YANK.
HE WAS TRAPPED IN ALL THE FLOTSOM,
AND THE WATER NEARED HIS HEAD.
HE KNEW THAT HE WAS DONE FOR,
THAT SOON HE WOULD BE DEAD.

SHE WATCHED HER GALLANT KNIGHT,
FIGHTING,FOR HIS LIFE.
NOW ALL HER DREAMS WERE SHATTERED
AND SHE WOULD NEVER BE HIS WIFE.
"I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER" HE CRIED
TO THE RIVERBANK ABOVE.
"FORGET-ME NOT,MY DARLING,
FORGET-ME -NOT,MY LOVE.

AND THATS HOW THE FORGET-ME-NOT GOT ITS NAME

MERRY DICKMAS FATHER CREASEYMAS

Wisbech Town,my football team.Are a team playing in the lowly divisions of football(soccer to the ignorant)in England.We've in the past had times of glory--with big crowds,and on occasions getting to 1st and 2nd rounds proper of the F A Cup.Town are having a pretty good year this year,we're well placed in the Ridgeons League-and at the time of writing still in the F A Vase--that's a trophy that the minnows of English Football fight for.The next round is due to be played the next Saturday to this date of writing-so I hope I don't jinx them.We also play in a high enough level of football,that calls for our boys to troop out on Boxing day each year,blow the cob webs ,turkey and brown ale from their systems--and go play football.For the purpose of this poem-you do need to know that the Manager/Coach of Wisbech Town Football Club aka "The Mighty Fenmen" is one Mr Dick Creasey,and we play at Fenland Park.

IT WAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISMAS,
WHEN DOWN FENLAND PARK
CAME SOHAM TOWN RANGERS
FOR THEIR BOXING DAY LARK.
THE FENMEN WERE HUNGRY
FOR THEIR DINNER THEY'D MISSED
THOUGH BLOATED WITH TURKEY
AND STILL THREE PARTS PISSED

"WHICH BALL SHALL I GO FOR?"
SAID OUR KEEPER TO DICK,
SEEING THREE HEAD TOWARD HIM
AND FEELING QUITE SICK.
"GO THE MIDDLE" HE REPLIED
"AND HOPE FOR GOOD LUCK"
THEN WE ALL HEARD A SCREAM
AND A LOUD "WHAT THE F*CK!"

"OOOPS" SAID THE KEEPER,
(THATS NOT QUITE WHAT HE SAID)
HE'D KICKED SOHAM TOWN STRIKER
FAIR IN THE HEAD.
WELL,A PUNCH UP ERUPTED,
A FULL ALL IN BRAWL,
"I COULDN'T HELP IT" SAID KEEPER
"I WENT FOR THE BALL."

"YOU'RE OFF," SAID THE REF,
AS HE PULLED OUT THE CARD,
"YOU MISSED OUT ON THE BALL
BY A GOOD HALF A YARD."
"BUT I DID WHAT HE TOLD ME,
AND IT WASN'T THAT EASY"
HE SAID,POINTING FINGER
AT MANAGER CREASEY.

OH!THE BOXING DAY FOOTY,
I WOULDN'T MISS IT FOR QUIDS,
ALL PEACE AND QUIET
FROM THE MISSUS AND KIDS.
AWAY FROM THE SQUABBLE
NOISE,NAGGING AND ALL.
TO WATCH GROWN UP MEN,
FIGHT OVER A BALL. "GO YOU MIGHTY FENMEN"

THAT'S THAT THEN--(they wonder why I'm so angry)

Everyone knows a cranky old bugger,these people that sit on fences and growl at kids when they go past,angry at the world,you couldn't do anything right for them if you tried.When I was a kid,the old sod nextdoor,Wal Courtman,had us kids shit scared-at times we'd be afraid to go out the gate-there he'd sit-on his fence--waiting.I think sometimes his poor wife used to tell him what an old bastard he was,because on occasions,we'd sneak past him,and he'd bring out a paper packet of those bon-bon type toffee's,you know? the ones with sugar all around them.On other occasions he'd just as leave turn the hose on us kids--you never could tell, you never knew which way he was going to go.Why was he so angry? and he's not the only one--old Gretta was the same,Gretta was the aunt of a friend, of a friend I've met on this wonderfull medium-the internet.So Gretta had very close connections to me.Well,she didn't did she?--but everyone knows Gretta,and everone knows Bloody Old Wal Courtman--But have we stopped and thought why they are so angry--and as we get a little older.do we find a little of Wal or Gretta sneaking into our make up ? Guess what ? I have.

THATS THAT THEN (AND THEY WONDER WHY I'M SO ANGRY)

I'M OLD,AND I'M GREY.
AND MANY WOULD SAY,
THAT I WON'T BE AROUND
FOR MANY A MORE DAY.
BUT I'M TELLING YOU,
I'M NOT FINISHED YET
I'VE GOT THINGS TO DO
AND I'LL DO EM.YOU BET!

I KNOW THAT I'M FRAIL
AND A LITTLE BIT SLOW.
I'VE GOT A FALSE PLATE
WHERE ME TEETH USED TO GO.
I WALK WITH A LIMP,
MY BACKS STIFF AND SORE,
AND MY EYES AINT AS GOOD
AS THEY WERE ANYMORE.

BUT,EACH DAY I GET BY,
YOU KNOW,I LIVE HERE ALONE?
JUST ME,AND ME DOG
AND OF COURSE,THERE'S THE PHONE,
NOT THAT IT RINGS MUCH,
ITS JUST NICE THAT ITS THERE,
JUST WAITING TO TELL ME
SHOULD SOMEBODY CARE.

WHEN THE NIGHTS SEEM SO LONG
I CAN'T SLEEP VERY MUCH.
HE'S BEEN GONE FOR YEARS
SO THERE'S NO ONE TO TOUCH.
I THINK OF IT THEN,
IN THE MIDST OF THE NIGHT,
"CLOSE YOUR EYES,JUST LET GO
AND ALL WILL BE RIGHT"

BUT BUGGER ME,COME THE MORNING
AND I FIND I'M STILL HERE,
I GETS UP,MAKES ME COFFEE
AND SITS IN ME CHAIR.
OLD DOG WADDLES UP,
SO I GIVES HER A PAT.
THEN GETS ON WITH OUR DAY,
AND WHY ? CAUSE THATS THAT!

THAT'S THE WAY THAT IT HAPPENS,
THAT'S WHEN YOU GET OLD,
THAT YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE LEFT,
THAT'S THERE'S NO ONE TO HOLD.
THAT EVERYTHINGS WRONG
THAT NOT A SOUL CARES.
THAT DEATH'S NOT THE WORRY,
THAT ITS THE WAITING I FEAR.

OH LITTLE CHILD OF BETHLEHEM

Well,its that time of year again.Television ads crammed full of toys and things for kids to wish for--a time of year when kids are told "behave yourself or Santa won't come"--a time of year when some kids can be as good as gold all year around and it will make no difference,because of people being put out of work by machines,or a person in New Delhi,doing your office work for 10% of what you used to do it for.A time of year when after the Christmas holidays,a kid can go back to school,and even though he was so good all year,and got very little from Santa,the little rich spoiled bastard,that teased him ,and was horrible to everyone--got just what he asked for.Who the hell invented this Santa Claus ? Really,he did no favours to anyone did he? just helped to push the faces of the "have nots" into the ground.

"OH LITTLE CHILD OF BETHLEHEM"

OH LITTLE CHILD OF BETHLEHEM,
YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU STARTED.
THE SHEPHERD CAME,AND KINGS THE SAME,
LEAVING GIFTS AS THEY DEPARTED.
YOU ARRIVED,IN SUCH A HUMBLE WAY
AMONG THE CATTLE,FEED AND STRAWS,
BUT PEOPLE,SOMEHOW MESSED IT UP
INVENTING SANTA CLAUS.

DON'T GET ME WRONG,HE'S A REAL FINE MAN,
AND HE'S GOOD TO GIRLS AND BOYS,
ON YOUR BIRTHDAY HE ENTERS EVERY HOUSE,
LEAVING GIFTS,LIKE FOOD AND TOYS.
HE HAS THIS TEAM OF REINDEER
THROUGH THE SKY,THEY PULL HIS SLEIGH
STOPPING AT EACH,AND EVERY HOUSE,
DROPPING PRESENTS ON HIS WAY.

THE CHILDREN THINK HE'S LOVELY,
AND,HE IS,BUT LET ME SAY.
THE ONE THING KIDS DON'T UNDERSTAND,
IS THAT PARENTS HAVE TO PAY.
ITS NOT THAT WE'RE COMPLAINING,
DON'T GET ME WRONG DEAR LORD.
ITS JUST THAT,WELL,IN THESE HARD TIMES,
SOME PEOPLE CAN'T AFFORD.

THEN T.V,LORD,IT DON'T HELP
SHOWING WHAT THE SHOPS HAVE GOT.
AND THE KIDS,THAT GET EXCITED,
THEY HOPE TO GET THE LOT.
BUT SOME,THEY WON'T GET ANY,CAUSE
DADS OUT OF WORK AND BROKE.
AND CHILDREN,- DON'T SEE THE REASON.
ITS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME CHOKE.

WHAT DO WE TELL THE CHILDREN,
WHEN SANTA DOESN'T COME?
HOW DO WE TELL THE CHILDREN,
WHEN THEY KNOW,HE CAME TO SOME ?
ON YOUR BIRTHDAY,CHRISTMAS MORNING,
NO TOYS,NO FOOD FOR FORK.
I KNOW WHAT YOU COULD DO DEAR LORD
TELL SANTA---"TAKE A WALK"

AN ODE TO ALFIE'S MATES

You know what I don't understand?I don't understand why people spend a fortune on dogs--"New Dogs"--dogs that some bastard on a doggie farm has bred in disgusting conditions just to make a quid.(although I must admit to having done it myself in the past--like 6 months ago when we got Lu Lu)People go there and hand over their hard earned for the latest fad dog,that sometime later when the novelty has worn off--dump them either in the bush or hand them in to dog pounds.Friends of mine just went one of these places and got Alfie--a very ugly scruffy dog,that only an owner could love--Oh,and anyone else that happens to see him.But he was one of these dogs-from a home ,not loved anymore.Until my friends rescued him.But Julie and Malcolm couldn't give them all a home,Alfies mates got left there.Go and rescue Alfies mates--before its too late.

AN ODE,TO ALFIES MATES.

I,AM A DOG,AND I SIT HERE ALL DAY,
'CAUSE I'M LOCKED IN A CAGE AT R.S.P.C.A.
I HAVEN'T ALWAYS LIVED HERE,I BELONGED TO A BOY.
AND HE USED TO TREAT ME AS HIS FAVOURITE TOY.
WE'D GET UP EACH MORNING,OVER PADDOCKS WE'D ROAM,
AND,WHEN HE WENT TO SCHOOL I'D FEEL SO ALONE.
BUT WITH TEACHING FINISHED,HE'D COME HOME WITH HIS BAG,
I'D HEAR HIS VOICE,AND HE'D SEE MY TAIL WAG.
THEN OFF WE WOULD GO,AND BELT DOWN THE STREET,
HIM GOING FAST WITH ME AT HIS FEET.

ONE DAY,ALL THIS STOPPED,AND HE CAME HOME LATE.
I HEARD HE'D BEEN OFF,DOWN THE STREET WITH HIS MATE.
HE SAT,ATE HIS DINNER,THEN OFF HE WOULD GO
I JUMPED UP TO FOLLOW,BUT HE SHOUTED ME "NO"
WAS HE TALKING TO ME? NAH,SO I WENT OFF AGAIN.
HE HE BROUGHT ME BACK HOME,I GOT PUT ON A CHAIN.
THE DAYS SLOWLY DRAGGED,NO MORE PLAYING OR FUN
AND I WISHED THAT MY DAYS HAD NEVER BEGUN.

ONE DAY,DAD CAME HOME AND I GOT PUT IN THE CAR,
HE DROVE FOR A WHILE,BUT NOT VERY FAR,
AND WE CAME TO THIS PLACE,SURROUNDED BY CAGES
A LADY THERE TOOK DOWN MY DETAILS ON PAGES.
I HEARD HER WHISPER,IN A QUIET LITTLE VOICE,
"I'M SO SORRY SIR,THERE JUST ISN'T A CHOICE,
PEOPLE LIKE YOUNG DOGS,ON THAT THERE MINDS SET,
SHE'LL BE HERE FOR A WEEK,THEN GET SEEN BY THE VET."

THEN,THEY TOOK ME AWAY,TO A CAGE AT THE REAR.
I COULD TELL BY THE NOISE,THERE WERE OTHER DOGS NEAR.
THEY BARKED DAY AND NIGHT,IN A SAD SORT OF WAY,
MORE DOGS CAME TO JOIN US,THERE WERE DOZENS EACH DAY.
WELL,TIME PASSED REAL SLOWLY,I'D BEEN THERE FOR A WEEK,
WHEN A GIRL IN A WHITE COAT,CAME FOR ME-DIDN'T SPEAK.
AND SHE LED ME AWAY,THROUGH A DOOR AT THE END,
WHERE BEYOND IT STOOD MY VETINARY FRIEND.
HE GAVE ME A STROKE,AND A PAT ON THE HEAD,
THE SLIGHT PRICK OF A NEEDLE,NO MORE DOGGIE--I'M DEAD.

FROM LOVES ASHES,GREW A ROSE

NOVEMBER 14 IS MY DAUGHTER KELLY'S BIRTHDAY.21 THIS YEAR,TIME FLIES IT ONLY SEEMS LIKE YESTERDAY (WELL,THE DAY BEFORE) THAT SHE WAS BORN.I DON'T THINK IN 21 YEARS I HAVE EVER WRITTEN A POEM FOR KELLY--NOT DIRECTLY TO HER,WHEN SHE WAS YOUNG I USED TO WRITE SILLY SONGS THAT WE WOULD SING WHILST DRIVING ALONG IN THE CAR.BUT I'VE NEVER WRITTEN ONE FOR HER,NOT A NICE ONE--PROBABLY BECAUSE I'VE NEVER HAD TO GROVEL TO HER,OR TRY TO WOO HER,OR GET HER BACK,OR SAY SORRY,OR IMPRESS--BECAUSE FOR THE TWENTYONE YEARS OF HER LIFE ,SHE'S BEEN THERE.IF I WANTED TO TELL HER HOW MUCH I LOVED HER--I COULD GIVE HER A BIG HUG AND A KISS AND TELL HER I LOVE HER.I'M SO VERY PROUD OF HER AND WHAT SHE'S DONE--SHE DIDN'T LIKE SCHOOL MUCH,INFACT SHE GOT KICKED OUT,WORKED AS A SHOP ASSISTANT FOR A WHILE,BUT THEN DECIDED SHE WANTED BETTER,PUT HERSELF THROUGH TECH COLLEGE AND MADE LIFE A WHOLE LOT BETTER.SHE MET DAMIEN,AND THEY HAVE BOUGHT A HOME TOGETHER AND EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE GOING WELL FOR THEM.I OFTEN SEE IN COURT REPORTS " HE/SHE CAME FROM A BROKEN HOME" WELL,WE HAVE FOUR CHILDREN THAT CAME FROM A BROKEN HOME AND WE'RE PROUD OF THEM ALL--ITS NO EXCUSE FOR BAD BEHAVIOR

FROM THE ASHES OF LOVE,GREW A ROSE

NOVEMBER FOURTEEN,NINETEEN EIGHTYFOUR
JUST AFTER LUNCH,AROUND ONE.
OUT POPPED YOUR LITTLE BALDY HEAD
FROM YOUR MOTHERS TUM.
AND WHAT A SCREAMING THING YOU WERE,
YOU CRIED AND CRIED,AND WORSE.
YOU MADE SUCH A BLOODY RACKET THAT
I WENT AND SAW THE NURSE.
"WHAT'S THIS BLOOMIN SQUARKING THING
YOU'VE GIVEN US " I SAID,
"THAT'S YOUR DAUGHTER MR NORMAN,
AND ITS TIME THAT SHE WAS FED."
SO IT WAS,FROM DAWN TILL DUSK,
FROM RISING SUN TILL NIGHT.
IF IT WASN'T WANTING FEEDING-
YOU'D DONE ANOTHER SHITE.

BUT,THAT WAS THEN

LOOK AT YOU,JUST LOOK AT YOU,
YOU'VE GROWN SO FAST,AND HOW.
JUST YESTERDAY A LITTLE GIRL,BUT
YOU'RE A LADY NOW.
AND ITS HARD TO SHOW JUST HOW I FEEL.
BUT,I'M TRYING HEAVEN KNOWS.
HOW OUT OF LOVES BURNT ASHES
GREW SUCH A LOVELY ROSE

A ROSE THAT KNOWS JUST WHO SHE IS,
AND SAYS WHAT'S ON HER MIND.
A ROSE THAT STOOD AND WEATHERED
LIFE'S STORMS OF EVERY KIND.
A ROSE THAT WARMS A FATHERS HEART,
WITH A TRUE AND HONEST SMELL.
A ROSE,I FEEL SO LUCKY TO
HAVE GIVEN LIFE AS WELL.

SO,AFTER BABIES BOTTLES,
THE TANTRUMS,SCREAMS AND TEARS.
I VALUE EACH AND EVERY ONE
AND HAVE,THROUGHOUT THESE YEARS.
I WOULDN'T TRADE A SINGLE DAY,
EVEN PUTTING UP WITH MUM,
TO SEE MY LOVELY,BLOOMING ROSE,
THE LADY YOU'VE BECOME.

I LOVE YOU,AS I ALWAYS WILL,AND
YOU NEVER WERE THAT BAD.
IN FACT,YOU'RE THE ONE THAT KEPT ME GOING.SO
HAPPY BIRTHDAY--------------DAD. XXXX

A FATHER'S GENTLE LOVE

It's been a while since I've written--working on a few projects that I've been finding hard to put words to.Knowing what I've wanted to say,but not been able to twist the words into the message.Those that don't know me,I am the middle of five boys,the sixth child my sister Angela.I'm sure the reason there was five boys,is because Angela didn't come along sooner--so I guess some of us have her late arrival to thank for our being at all.Angela was everything Mum And Dad had wanted,but sadly Dad,who I could never remember being a well man,died before Angela was two years old.I know Dad would be so proud of his girl,how she's grown up into a wonderful woman.How she's been a very special daughter to Mum,with whom she has a relationship that has to be seen to understand.Angela has found a very special happiness.Angela who celebrates a birthday soon,is also getting married in April next year to a lovely bloke called Mick,and,I reckon if Dad were around today he would also be chuffed to see her so happy,----------infact he told me so in,

A FATHERS GENTLE LOVE

AS WINTER,TURNED TO SPRING,
IT WAS THE AUTUMN OF MY LIFE
WHEN I SAW YOU IN THE ARMS
OF YOUR MOTHER,MY WIFE.
THEN,I WAIVED GOODBYE THROUGH THE WINDOW,
BLEW YOU KISSES FROM MY BED.
AND THAT,WAS THE LAST YOU SAW ME.
BUT ME? I'VE WATCHED FROM OVERHEAD.

WE TRIED SO HARD TO HAVE YOU,
BUT IN A ROW WE HAD ALL BOYS,
AND THOUGH,WE LOVED EACH ONE OF THEM
YOUR ARRIVAL,WAS JOY OF JOYS.
YOU,WERE OUR LITTLE GIFT FROM HEAVEN,
ALL WE WANTED, SO IT SEEMS.
YET THE TIME WE'VE SPENT TOGETHER,
HAVE BEEN IN MAINLY PRAYERS, AND DREAMS.

BUT,YOU KNOW THAT I'VE BEEN LOOKING,
I'VE SEEN YOU BLOOM AND GROW,
INTO A VERY SPECIAL WOMAN,
THIS I THINK THAT YOU SHOULD KNOW.
HOW YOU'VE WATCHED AND CARED FOR MUM
FOR SO MANY, MANY YEARS.
SEEN HOW CLOSE YOU'VE GROWN TOGETHER
THROUGH THE LOVE,THE LIFE AND TEARS.

AND ANGELA,I'M SO PROUD OF YOU,
WITH EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE.
I LOVE YOU FOR THE WAY YOU ARE,
AND OF ALL THAT YOU'VE BECOME.
I SEE BIG DAYS AHEAD OF YOU,
SO I SEND FROM UP ABOVE,
ONE ANGEL TO ANOTHER,
A FATHERS GENTLE LOVE.

PARANOIA

HAVE YOU EVER FALLEN ASLEEP AND HAD A DREAM SO REAL,THAT YOU FELT IT REALLY HAPPENED,SOMETHING THAT WAS GOING ON AROUND YOU (WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING)THAT IT BECAME PART OF YOUR DREAM.TODAY JULIE AND I HAD BEEN BUSY AROUND THE HOUSE,WE THEN WENT FOR A DRIVE, CAME HOME AND HAD A SLEEP.I WAS WATCHING THE WRESTLING ON TELEVISION--JULIE LOVES THAT,SHE LOVES IT SO MUCH THAT SHE WENT IN THE OTHER ROOM TO HAVE HER SLEEP,WELL,ACTUALLY SHE WENT IN THERE TO READ BUT WITHIN 10 MINUTES I COULD HEAR THAT SHE WAS ASLEEP( WE'VE SPOKEN OF THE RACKET SHE MAKES WHEN SHE'S ASLEEP) AND THEN SHE STARTED WHIMPERING IN HER SLEEP---I THOUGHT "THAT BLOODY TOM CRUISE" BUT,NO IT WASN'T THAT KIND OF WHIMPER--SHE WAS UPSET IN HER SLEEP--TURNS OUT IT WAS SOME WOMAN THING--YOU KNOW, A DOG GETTING RUNOVER OR THE CREDIT CARD'S OVER ITS LIMIT,THOSE THINGS THAT WOMEN GET UPSET ABOUT---BUT CAN'T DREAMS BE REAL ?

I SLEPT ON THE FLOOR LASTNIGHT,
HAVING HAD MY FILL OF BEER.
I'D JUST DOZED OFF,WHEN I AWOKE,
SHAKING,WET WITH FEAR.
I'D HAD THIS REALLY ROTTEN DREAM
ITS STORY I WILL TELL
AND WHEN I'VE FINISHED TELLING IT
YOU'LL FEEL MY FEAR AS WELL.

I DREAMPT THIS GREAT BIG FUNNELWEB,
WAS CLIMBING ON ME BED.
IT HAD GREAT BIG FURRY TENTACLES
AND A MASSIVE HAIRY HEAD.
IT HAD EYES AS BIG AS SAUCERS
AND TEETH LIKE A MONSTER SHARK,
AS IT SLOWLY CRAWLED ALL OVER ME
IT LET OUT THIS FRIGHTENING BARK

IT STOOD THERE,TOWERING OVER ME.
GOD,DID I FEEL SMALL
ITS LEGS, THEY STRADDLED OVER ME BED,
AND IT WAS TWICE AS BLOODY TALL.
I HAD NO CLUE OF WHAT TO DO,
I JUST LAY THERE, I WAS FROZEN.
IT DIDN'T SEEM,IT WAS JUST A DREAM
AND I WAS ONLY DOZING.

ANYWAY,I DECIDED
TO GET ON THE ATTACK.
BUT TELL BE FOLKS WHAT COULD I DO
HERE LYING,ON ME BACK?
BUT I HAD ME TEETH,
SO I BIT IT.
WHAT A BLOODY WAIL.
AND PEOPLE THATS WHEN I AWOKE,
CHEWING MY DOGS TAIL.

TAKING TRIPS TO BALI

I WROTE A POEM SOME TIME AGO, ABOUT A COUPLE OF MY FRIENDS- CALLED "TAKING DOPE TO BALI"--BALI,ONCE AGAIN HAS BEEN ROCKED BY TERRORISTS-BASTARDS THAT DON'T WANT TO LIVE THE SAME KIND OF LIVES WE DO,AND WANT TO TELL US THAT WE SHOULDN'T LIVE THAT WAY EITHER.I'VE NEVER BEEN TO BALI,BUT PEOPLE TELL ME THAT THE PEOPLE OF BALI ARE THE MOST LOVELY PEOPLE YOU COULD EVER WISH TO MEET.THREE YEARS AGO THIS MONTH,EIGHTYTWO AUSTRALIANS WERE BLOWN TO PIECES BY TERRORISTS,AND AGAIN THIS MONTH,OCTOBER ONCE AGAIN,AUSTRALIANS ARE BRINGING THEIR DEAD HOME TO BURY.
A SIGN ON A RIVER SAID-"NO SWIMMING,CROCODILES LIVE HERE"-SOME SILLY BUGGER DIVED IN AND GOT TAKEN--AND WE ALL SAID "WHAT A DOPE"--"DON'T SWIM HERE,SHARK INFESTED" WELL,IF YOU GET TAKEN--I GUESS YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE GONE IN THERE."STAY AWAY FROM EDGE OF CLIFF--UNSAFE"---"ARE YOU SURE?I THINK I'LL JUST CHECK IT OUT AAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHH.ANOTHER SILLY BUGGER BITES THE DUST.-----"THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT WISH TO LET ALL ITS PEOPLE KNOW THAT THEY RECCOMEND THAT ALL NONESSENTIAL TRAVEL TO INDONESIA INCLUDING BALI--SHOULD BE AVOIDED"---THAT IS THE OFFICIAL WORD FROM OUR LEADERS--BUT STILL WE HEAR OF PEOPLE SAYING THEY ARE GOING TO GO THERE.WELL,WHAT DOES IT TAKE ? I KNOW THAT IF WE GIVE IN AND STAY AT HOME--THE TERRORISTS WIN--BUT ,THERE ARE MANY, MANY PLACES ON THIS WONDERFUL PLANET OF OURS THAT WE CAN GO FOR A HOLIDAY,WITHOUT THE NEED TO BE LOOKING OVER OUR SHOULDERS ALL THE TIME,WHERE WE CAN SIT AND EAT OR HAVE A DRINK,WITHOUT WONDERING IF THE FRIGGING PLACE IS GOING TO BLOW UP AND TAKE HALF OF OUR FAMILY WITH IT.THE PEOPLE OF BALI MAY WELL BE LOVELY,BUT SO ARE MY FAMILY,SO ARE MY FRIENDS AND MY ADVICE TO THEM IS TO STAY AWAY FROM THE BLOODY PLACE.
BUT SHOULD YOU DECIDE TO GO,LET ME TELL YOU,SHOULD YOU GET BLOWN UP,PLEASE DON'T BE CRYING ON TELEVISION,PLEASE DON'T BE SAYING THAT THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT ARE DOING NOTHING TO HELP YOU.PLEASE DON'T ASK THAT SPECIAL AIRCRAFT BE SENT TO PICK YOU UP BECAUSE YOU'VE SHIT YOURSELF AND WANT TO GET OUT OF THE PLACE.THE AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT HAVE DONE ALL YOU'VE ASKED OF THEM--THEY TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM THE PLACE.TERRORISTS--DRUG SUGGLERS--CHICKEN FLU--DEATH AND BODY PARTS--GIVE ME BUTLINS ANYTIME

OLD JIMS SHED

A COUNTRY SINGER IN AUSTRALIA, OR RATHER A BUSH BALADEER ,BY THE NAME OF JOHN WILLIAMSON A FEW YEARS AGO WROTE A SONG CALLED "ALL AUSTRALIAN BOYS NEED A SHED" AND ITS TRUE.AS MANY OF YOU KNOW ,JULIE AND I HAVE JUST MOVED INTO OUR FIRST OWN HOME,AND,ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS TO GET FIXED UP(AFTER THE COMPUTER) WAS THE SHED.IT ALREADY HAS A RADIO,FAN AND FRIDGE (WHICH ARE ALL VITAL TO AN AUSSIE MANS SHED.)ALONG WITH MY MEAGRE COLLECTION OF TOOLS (WHICH I'M BLOODY USELESS WITH ANYWAY).IT IS A "MASSIVE" 3M X 3M ERECTION--CHOCKERBLOCK FULL OF STUFF.BUT ITS "MY SHED". PROBABLY THE BEST SHED I EVER SAW,WAS MY OLD MATE,MY INSPIRATION IN MANY OF MY POEMS -"OLD JIMS SHED IN YOUNG" A PLACE WHERE OLD JIM AND HIS DOG "CUJO" SPENT MOST OF THE DAY.

THIS IS MY STORY,THE TALE HAS BEGUN
OF JIM,AND CUJO'S SHED IN YOUNG.
WHERE EVERYTHING'S METAL,CAUSE, JIM WOULD,IF HE COULD,
BURN EVERY SINGLE LAST PIECE OF WOOD.
WALK,AND BE CAREFULL,"DON'T TREAD ON THAT
PSSST---GO ON CUJO,GET THAT BLOODY CAT".
NOT ALL,CARE TO ENTER,THIS HALLOWED SHED,
AND YOU'LL NOT GET IN EITHER,LEST THE PASSWORD IS SAID.
"FOSTERS" THATS THE WORD,AS YOU KNOCK SCREAM IT OUT,
AND HAVE ONE OR TWO WITH YOU,CAUSE ITS ALWAYS YOUR SHOUT.

EVERTYTHING IS THERE,IN JIMS GREAT BIG SHED,
OLD PRAMS,STOVES,OVENS,DRIERS,SCRAP PIECES--A BED.
AN OLD DRUM IN THE CORNER,THAT SERVES AS A FIRE,
A GREAT PILE OF JUNK,AND THE MOUNTAIN GROWS HIGHER.
ON AN OLD UP TURNED CAN,THERE HE SITS ON HIS SEAT,
AS HE WARMS BY THE FIRE,HIS DOG AT HIS FEET.
"DO YA FANCY A BEER" IS HIS NORMAL HELLO,
"I GOT THIS FROM THE TIP,BUT THE BLUDGER WON'T GO,
PULL UP A CHAIR,THE BOTTLE TOPS PEELED."
AS HE DRAGS FROM THE PACKET,ANOTHER WINFIELD.

YOU CAN'T HELP BUT WONDER,OR CAN'T WAIT TO FIND
WHAT HE'S MAKING,AS YOU HEAR MACHINERY GRIND.
WITH THE ODD ANGRY OUTBURST,OCCASIONAL CURSE,
(AND WHEN THINGS GET REAL BAD,HE CAN DO EVEN WORSE)
BUT,WHEN CLANGING AROUNDS FINISHED,HE'LL OFT WANDER IN,
"HEY LORNE,LOOK WHAT I MADE,FROM THAT OLD PIECE OF TIN"
POOR LORNIE,SHE STUCK,TWIXED THIS,AND THE OTHER,
CAUSE IF SHE TELLS HIM ITS NICE,HE'LL GO MAKE ANOTHER.
"OH THATS NICE,WHAT IS IT ?" SHE SAYS SCRATCING HER HEAD.
BUT OLD JIM DOESN'T HEAR,HE'S BACK IN HIS SHED.

AS DAY SLIPS TO DARK,HE'S STILL THERE IN HIS SHED.
THE PATTER OF RAIN,HIT THE ROOF OVERHEAD.
HE SITS THERE CONTENT,WHAT MAN COULD NEED MORE?
THE OCCASIONAL DROP OF RAIN HITS THE FLOOR.
THIS SHED IS HIS CASTLE,THIS SHED IS HIS KEEP,
JUST ONE MORE BEER,THEN ITS OFF FOR A SLEEP.
"C'MON CUJO,THAT WILL DO FOR THE NIGHT"
HE HEADS FOR THE DOOR AND TURNS OUT THE LIGHT.
BUT,COME FIRST LIGHT IN THE MORNING,IT HAS TO BE SAID,
HE'LL BE STRAIGHT FROM HIS SLUMBER,AND INTO HIS SHED.

STUCK UP SANTA

Its coming towards the end of July.In Australia we do a funny thing,because its too hot at Christmas to have a traditional Christmas dinner,we have what we call "Christmas In July".Its the middle of winter so everyone welcomes the Turkey etc that you, in other parts of the world would enjoy in December.Not that all of this has anything to do with this poem,its just an explanation as to why Santa would come to my mind at this time of the year.

IT WAS HALF PAST ONE ON CHRISTMAS MORN.
WHEN,A KNOCKING AT MY DOOR
CAME THIS LITTLE SCREAMING GREEN DRESSED ELF,
"SANTA'S STUCK IN NUMBER FOUR".
SO,I WANDERED DOWN TO HAVE A LOOK
AND SEE WHAT WAS THIS FARCE.
THERE STICKING OUT THE CHIMNEY WAS,
BLACK BOOTS,AND SANTA'S ARSE.

"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?" I ASKED THE ELF,
"ITS NEVER BEEN BEFORE,
SANTA'S BEEN DOING THIS,"I SAID
"FOR A THOUSAND YEARS OR MORE"
"TOO MUCH PUD,"HE TOLD ME
"AND TOO MUCH CAKE AND BEER,
HE'S TWO STONE HEAVIER THAN HE WAS,
TWELVE MONTHS,THIS TIME OF YEAR".

"WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?" HE SAID
"THE CART IS FULL OF TOYS,
WE'VE STILL GOT A THOUSAND DROPS TO DO
FOR ALL THE GIRLS AND BOYS".
SO,I STOOD THERE THINKING FOR A WHILE,
HUMMING CHRISTMAS TUNES.
WHEN I SUDDENLY HAD A BRAIN WAVE,
"I'LL GO AND GET THE PRUNES"

WELL,I GOT THEM,AND I CAME BACK.
THEN QUIET AS A MOUSE,
IN THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW,
I CREPT THROUGH MY NEIGHBOURS HOUSE.
IN THE LOUNGE ROOM WAS THE FIRE,
BULGING,LIKE THE CHIMNEY'D BUST,
AND WITH ALL OF SANTA'S STRUGGLING,
THE PLACE WAS FULL,OF SOOT AND DUST

AS I LOOKED UP THE CHIMNEYS DARKNESS
OF THAT FIRE PLACE.
THERE,FIVE FEET ABOVE ME,
WAS SANTA'S SOOTED FACE.
"HI SANTA,HOW YA GOIN?"
"I'M STUCK HERE,DON'T YOU KNOW ?
AND I'M REALLY BLOODY GRUMPY,
THERE'LL BE NO HO HO HO."

"GET THESE INTO YA SANTA,"I SAID,
PASSING HIM THE PRUNES.
"YOU'LL KNOW JUST WHEN THEY START TO WORK,
YOU'LL BE PLAYING DIFFERENT TUNES."
FOR HALF AN HOUR WE WAITED,
THEN THE PRUNES BEGAN TO START,
AND SANTA ANNOUNCED IT TO THE WORLD,
WITH A GIANT ENORMOUS FART.

HE FLEW RIGHT OUT THE CHIMNEY
AND LANDED ON THE FLOOR,
HE QUICKLY EMPTIED OUT HIS BAG,
THEN SHOT OUT THROUGH THE DOOR.
IN A FLASH JUMPED IN HIS SLEIGH,
AND,AS THE STORY'S SINCE BEEN TELLED
HIS ROUND WAS FINISHED IN HALF THE TIME,
THANKS TO PRUNE PROPELLED.

ENAMAZING STORY

It was 32 years ago this August,that I decided to come to Autralia,which I did,in December 1973,obviously just before Xmas that year.I had been living with an Australian girl in London,who after being in England for three years had decided it was time she went home to Australia.As I said ,we lived in London,but she was born and bred in an arsehole of a place called Boggabri,a small town that sits on the river Namoi in country New South Wales.If ever there was a town that resembled the outback towns you hear of in T V shows or movies,Boggabri is it.It is a horrible town,dry ,red soil and within it lived who was at the time my prospective father in-law.He who will remain nameless, he was also horrible,and just as a bonus he hated Pommie Bastards--like me.As it was ,the girl that dragged me all the way from London to Australia---dumped me after being here a few days,and went back to the boyfriend she had before she went to England.As I said,Boggabri a horrible place,girls Dad a horrible man,and as for the girl-? funny enough 25 years later we hooked up again for a short while,and guess what ? She was a horrible person.I dedicate this song(yes folks a song) to the lot of em.


FROM LONDON BRIDGE,TO RIDGY DIDGE
I'VE LIVED A LIFE TO TELL.
FROM KEN STREET HIGH,TO BOGGABRI
FROM PARADISE,TO HELL.
FROM ENGLANDS SOIL,TO SHEARER'S TOIL,
I'VE SEEN IT ALL I FEAR.
BUT IF AUSTRALIA NEEDS AN ENEMA
WELL,BOGGABRI'S ITS REAR.

IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI
WHAT A PARTY I WOULD THROW OH BOY!
I'VE SEEN AS MUCH OF IT AS I CAN BARE
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE,
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN MY FACE,
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE.

I WENT THERE FOR A DAY,ONE HOUR
COULDN'T EVEN GET A BLOODY SHOWER,
ITS A PLACE WHERE BEER IS CHEAPER THAN THE WATER.
BUT THOUGH THE BATH WAS SADLY MISSED
I HIT THE PUB
GOT BADLY PISSED
TO END UP SLEEPING WITH THE FARMERS DAUGHTER

WELL,THAT KIND OF ENDED ALL THE FUN,
THE OLD BOY WENT AND GOT HIS GUN,
LOADED,PULLED THE TRIGGER,BOY IT BLASTED!
WELL I BELTED DOWN THE ROAD
AS HE STARTED TO RE-LOAD
SHOUTING "I'LL KILL YOU;
YOU ROTTEN POMMIE BASTARD."

IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI,
WHAT A PARTY THERE WOULD BE OH BOY !
I'VE SEEN AS MUCH OF IT AS I CAN BARE.
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE,
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN ME FACE,
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE

WELL,THE MAIL TRAIN LEFT QUITE LATE,
IT SEEMED THAT SYDNEY WAS ME FATE.
BUT I HAD ONE LAST MESSAGE FOR HER OLD MAN.
WE WERE TRAVELLING SECOND CLASS
DROPPED ME DAKS AND FLASHED ME ARSE
WHISTLING DIXIE AND SHOUTING CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

CAUSE IF IT SLIPPED INTO THE NAMOI,
WHAT A PARTY I WOULD THROW OH BOY !
I SAW AS MUCH OF IT AS I COULD BARE,
ITS AN ARSEHOLE OF A PLACE
SO PLEASE DON'T SHOVE IT IN ME FACE
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDNT CARE----
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE SHEEP
I WOULDN'T CARE
SHOULD AUSTRALIA NEED AN ENEMA
I'VE FOUND ITS REAR

STILL CRYING INSIDE

I don't know,I keep saying I should write a happy one,and then I start thinking,and things happen around the World,and so my thoughts turn to sadness.Maybe I'm just a miserable bastard thats destined to be the poor mans Leonard Cohen.I reckon when people die,or remove themselves from your life,there must be one hell of a void that we fill or ignore simply because its expected of us,you know,its ok to mourn for a while,but enough is enough,get over it,well I think some people just can't work that way,I'm sure they try very hard,but They're "Still Crying Inside"


HIS SLIPPERS,STILL SIT BY THE FIRESIDE,
HIS PIPE'S IN A RACK BY HIS CHAIR.
THE ROOM SMELLS OF ERINMORE MIXTURE.
ITS AS IF,ITS AS IF HE'S STILL HERE.
THERE'S A BOTTLE OF BROWN ALE,THAT SITS IN THE FRIDGE,
THAT I NEVER WILL DRINK,THAT'S FOR SURE.
HIS FAVOURITE VIDEO,SITS READY TO GO,
WHICH I WON'T HAVE TO WATCH ANYMORE.

HIS WASHING,STILL SITS IN THE BASKET,
DO I WASH IT,OR THROW IT AWAY?
AND HIS DOG ONCE MORE,SITS AT THE DOOR,
BUT THERE'LL BE NO WALKIES TODAY.
I DON'T THINK I CAN LAY IN MY BED ANYMORE,
ITS LONELY,AND NIGHTS SEEM SO LONG.
I DON'T SLEEP ANYWAY,UNTIL ITS NEAR DAY
AND SOMEHOW,EVERYTHING SEEMS SO WRONG.

NOW THE LAWNS NEED MOWING,THE HEDGE WANTS A TRIM,
THE HOUSE NEED A PAINT,BOTH OUTSIDE AND IN,
WHO'S GOING TO DO IT,WHERE DO I BEGIN ?
CAUSE HE,ALWAYS DID IT,IT ALWAYS WAS HIM.
BUT,I HAVE TO MOVE ON,THAT,I PROMISED,
AND I'LL SHOW A BRAVE FACE AS I GO.
MY SORROW I'LL HIDE,WHILST STILL CRYING INSIDE,
CAUSE I MISS HIM ,SO MUCH-----YOU KNOW?

WHAT A WHOPPER

I can eat,and I mean I CAN EAT but a while back I went to the local pub for what we call in Australia a counter lunch,I ordered the steak,no real meaning in this poem,no worldly rants or solving lives problems,it was just a BIG steak.


I TELL YOU MATE,YOU AINT HAD A STEAK,
AS BIG,NOT FAT,ALL LEAN.
TILL YOU'VE HAD THE ONE LIKE I HAD,
AT A PUB CALLED "THE TOURMALINE"
YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN THE SIZE OF IT,
WHEN IT FINALLY DID ARRIVE,
READY TO EAT AT HALF PAST EIGHT,
ORDERED AT TEN TO FIVE

BUT,THERE WAS GOOD REASON FOR THIS WAIT.
THIS FINE,AND JUICY STEAK
WAS TOO BIG FOR THE BBQ
ONLY ONE AT A TIME COULD TAKE.
PEOPLE CAME FROM DARWIN,
FROM OUR NATIONS FARTHEST EDGE
TO THE PLACE THEY SERVE A STEAK SO BIG,
NO ROOM ON THE PLATE FOR VEG.

A GASTRONOMICAL DELIGHT
OF GIGANTUOUS PROPORTIONS,
YOU COULD NEVER FIT THE WHOLE LOT IN
DESPITE YOUR TUMS CONTORTIONS.
YOU COULD FEED THE WHOLE OF CHINA
WITH JUST ONE OF THESE FINE DISHES,
JESUS ONLY FED FIVE THOUSAND
WITH FIVE LOAVES AND THREE FISHES.

THESE ANIMALS CHOPPED INTO "FRIGHT SIZE PIECES"
ARE ESPECIALLY BRED,
KEPT IN LUSH GREEN PASTURES,
ON ONLY THE BEST GRAIN FED.
THEY SAY,IT IS A MASSIVE BEAST.
AND BRED THIS WAY WHAT'S MORE,
BY MIXING THE GENES OF A BUFFALO,
WITH THAT,OF A DINOSAUR.

CHERISH THE MEMORIES

Comes a time when the sadness has to stop,we can feel sorry for ourselves forever,or we can after a reasonable length of time say "Ive got to get on with it" and unless we've lived a totally miserable life (which surely some have)most of us have a tool that can help us get over, or through these hard times.Those of you that know me,would know that my Dad died when I was very young,leaving my wonderful Mum with six children,and I've often wondered how the hell she got through,and I reckon she must have used the tool,she Cherished The Memories.


MANY,IS THE TIME I'VE WONDERED,
AND I WISH,THAT I COULD SEE.
THE THINGS THAT REALLY MADE ME TICK,
THE THINGS THAT MADE ME,ME.
TO TRAVEL THROUGH LIFE'S BUMPY PATH,
WITH ITS UPS,AND ITS DOWNS.
THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY,
THE THINGS THAT BRING ON FROWNS.
LIFE'S GOOD,LIFE'S ROTTEN
SOME THINGS I'M SURE,
ARE BEST FORGOTTEN.
SO,LETS KEEP THE GOOD,
DEFY THE BAD.
AND CHERISH PRECIOUS THINGS
WE'VE HAD.
LET MEMORIES BE
OUR GUIDE THROUGH PAIN,AND
OUR PLEASANT TIMES
RELIVE AGAIN.
AND AGAIN AND AGAIN
IF IT BE NEEDED.
UNTIL OUR TROUBLED TIMES
RECEEDED. CHERISH THE MEMORIES.

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT-& THE SECOND LAST PAGE

YOU KNOW AFTER THE LOSS OF TED,AND WRITING ABOUT IT,I WAS READY TO CHEER YOU ALL UP,BUT AT THE MOMENT,CHEER ISN'T REALLY WHAT COMES TO MIND.IT SEEMS WHOEVER YOU TALK TO,EVERYONE KNOWS SOMEONE THAT IS GOING THROUGH A BREAKDOWN OR DEPRESSION OF SOME KIND.I MUST SAY I HAVE NEVER HAD SUCH A BREAKDOWN OR DEPRESSION,THE WORST I HAVE EVER FELT IS SAD,BUT I HAVE IN THESE TWO POEMS TRIED TO UNDERSTAND THESE THINGS.MAYBE IF I'VE NEVER FELT IT ,I SHOULDN'T WRITE ABOUT IT,BUT I'VE NEVER DIED, BEEN AN OLD LADY OR SHORN A SHEEP AND I WROTE ABOUT THEM--SO ?--"CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT-I DON'T CARE"

MY MIND,IS A GRAVEYARD,
MY HEART A DISEASE.
MY THOUGHTS ARE A MATTER
THAT NO-ONE CAN PLEASE.
MY LIFE ? ITS A MESS,
I CAN SAY AT THE BEST.
I,ON MEMORIES THRIVE
EVEN THEY STAND THE TEST.
EMOTIONS AND STANDSTILL,
MINDS WIDE OPEN DOOR.
AND MY VERY BEST THOUGHT,
"WHAT AM I HERE FOR?"
BUT,AS I LOOK AT MY LIFE,
LIKE A VIEW FROM A FUNNEL,
THERE'S A FLICKER OF LIGHT
AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.
MY LIFE MUST GO ON,
AND NO MATTER WHAT
I MUST TAKE WHAT I HAVE
CRAVE NOT,WHAT I'VE NOT

WITH WIDE OPEN ARMS
I SHALL TAKE ,WHAT IS GIVEN
AND PROVE TO YOU ALL,
THAT MY LIFE IS WORTH LIVING
IN OTHERS,I'LL FIND
THE COMFORT I NEED.
AND THROW AWAY THOUGHTS
OF MY OWN SELFISH GREED.
MANKIND IS MY FAMILY,
MY SISTERS AND BROTHERS.
THE EARTH IS MY FATHER,
AND LOVE ,IS MY MOTHER.
AND THERE'S NOTHING WRONG
IN LEANING ON THESE,
TO SEEK FOR THE COMFORT,
OUR SIMPLE MINDS NEED.


THE SECOND OF THIS DUO IS A POEM ABOUT ONE OF THE THINGS THAT TEND TO LEAD TO SUCH A STATE OF MIND--THE END OF SOMETHING,BE IT A RELATIONSHIP,THE LOSS OF SOMEONE OR EVEN THE LOSS OF A JOB,WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GOING TO GO NEXT. "THE SECOND LAST PAGE"

A PAGE OF MY LIFE,
WAS RIPPED OFF TODAY
BUT,ON THE VERY NEXT SHEET
THE IMPRINT WILL STAY.
TO START A NEW LIFE
REQUIRES A NEW BOOK.
'CAUSE THE IMPRINTED PAGE
IS THE LAST TO BE TOOK.
I'M TOO TIRED AND SHATTERED
AND IN NO CONDITION
TO OPEN THE FRONT
OF A BRAND NEW EDITION.
SO,I'M LEFT WITH THIS PAGE,
NOT WRITTEN ON YET,
AND THE MARKS THAT SHOW THROUGH
WON'T LET ME FORGET.
I CAN SEE WHERE I'VE BEEN
WITHOUT REALLY KNOWING
WHAT HAVE I GOT ?
WHATS LEFT FOR THE SHOWING?
I'D KNOW ALL THE ANSWERS,
AND I'D KNOW WHAT TO SAY.
BUT THE SECOND LAST PAGE
WAS RIPPED OFF TODAY.

TED

Ted was Julie's Uncle,sadly 26/5/05 Ted passed away after a long illness.Ted was a very much loved grandfather,father,husband and friend to many people.We worked it out one night, that possibly during Teds years in The Merchant Navy he may have been on the ship that rescued my Dad during the war.He came from the Isle Of Man and he had fond memories of the place.I only knew Ted for 5 years,but in that time grew to love him and enjoy his company.I'll miss him as will all that knew him,especially his Dark Haired Angel.

AND,I AWAKE ONCE MORE.

MY DARK HAIRED ANGEL,
SHE'S STILL THERE,
"SHHHH-SHHHHHHH
ITS O.K"SHE SAID,AS SHE STROKES MY HAIR.

AND I DRIFT ONCE MORE,
TO THE FIELDS SO GREEN,
THE FIELDS,MORE GREEN
THAN THEY'VE EVER BEEN.
I KNOW,AS A CHILD
I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE
AS THE TRAIN TRAVELS DOWN
FROM THE HILLS TO THE SHORE.

AND I AWAKE,I AWAKE ONCE MORE.

MY DARK HAIRED ANGEL,
SHE'S STILL HERE
"WE LOVE YOU" THEY SAY
OTHER ANGELS ARE NEAR.

AND I DRIFT ONCE MORE,
BACK TO DAYS ON THE SEAS.
NO WAR ANYMORE,
ITS TRANQUIL,ITS PEACE.
AND,AS I SAIL ON THE OCEAN
A MESSAGE "HE" SENDS
THAT THE CREW IS MADE UP
OF LOST FAMILY AND FRIENDS.

AND I AWAKE,WHY,DO I AWAKE ONCE MORE?

AND MY DARK HAIRED ANGEL,
YET,SHE'S STILL THERE.
"I LOVE YOU" I TELL HER,
WE BOTH SHED A TEAR.

ITS THE LAST TIME I'LL DRIFT
NOW I'VE SEEN WHAT I SAW,
AND,THE PAIN HAS ALL GONE,
I'M NOT SCARED ANYMORE.
I LOVE ALL I'VE LEFT,AND I ALWAYS WILL,
AND,I'LL BE KEEPING AN EYE,
FROM MY SEAT ON THE HILL.
AND TO MY DARK HAIRED ANGEL,
WHO TENDED ME TRUE,
UNTIL YOU ARE READY,
I'LL WAIT HERE FOR YOU.

"BATHIE TIME BABY"

This,is a poem I wrote a few years ago ,when my daughter Kelly got her first Maltese Terrier pup named "Twopence". Julie and I now have a new one called "Lu Lu".Lu Lu ,like Twopence hates her bath.and I don't blame her really,I mean,you and I decide when we want to have a bath,we also decide if we should have a hot bath,or a cold bath.The poor bloody dog gets its bath when we decide,it may have been totally inconvenient at that time,also if it was going to have a bath,I'm sure it would not have had it hot enough to cook it.or cold enough to freeze its balls off.This story is written,on behalf of the dog.

"OH-OH,HERE SHE COMES,
ITS THAT TIME OF THE WEEK.
SHAMPOOS OUT,THE BATH IS RUN,
SHE'S READY--SO TO SPEAK.
I'M NOT REALLY VERY DIRTY,
AND THERES NOT TO BAD A SMELL.
I'M COMFY BY THE FIRE HERE,
ITS NICE AND WARM AS WELL.
SHE CAN'T BE SERIOUS,SO
I THINK I'LL HAVE A DOZE.
AND THEN I HEAR HER SAY OUT LOUD
"THAT PUPPYS ON THE NOSE"
CHRIST,ITS TEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT,
GIVE A LITTLE DOG SOME PEACE,
ITS NOT AS IF A LITTLE SMELL,
COULD SPREAD SOME GREAT DISEASE.
OH WELL,HERE I GO
MUST DO AS I'M TOLD
FIRST I'LL DIP MY TOESIES IN
SHIT! ITS BLOODY COLD.

SO HERE I SIT,A REAL BURKE,
SOAKED,I'M WET ALL OVER
I'LL GET HER SOON,I'LL HAVE A SHAKE
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ROVER,
WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING WITH THAT COMB"
I KNOW THE NEXT SURPRISE,
SHE'LL COVER ME WITH SHAMPOO
"OUCH ! ITS IN ME EYES"
QUICK,SOMEBODY GET A TOWEL,
I'VE HAD A BLOODY NOUGH.
BUT YOU,YOU IDIOT,YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND
TO YOU ITS "WOOF WOOF WOOF"

SO,WE'RE BACK RIGHT WHERE WE STARTED,
IN FRONT OF OPEN FIRE.
PERHAPS NOW I'LL GET SOME PEACE.
OH NO,HERE COMES THE DRYER.
AS IF I HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH,
"NOW LISTEN MADAM,SIR
PUT THAT BLOOMING THING AWAY,
YOU'LL BLOW OFF HALF ME FUR."
STILL,SHE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE.
YET,SHE MAKES A FUSS,
"WE'LL HAVE TO GET THE KNOTTIES OUT"
OH SHIT HERE COMES THE BRUSH.
TUG TUG,PULL PULL,
GROOMING,THIS IS CALLED.
IF SHE PULLS MUCH MORE OF ME OUT,
I'M GOING TO END UP BALD.

OH WELL,BATTLES OVER,
PEACE AND QUIET AT LAST.
NEXT TIME I HEAR THAT WATER RUN,
I'M NICKING OFF REAL FAST.
NO WAY WILL THEY FIND ME,
I'LL HIDE UNDER A LOG.
TILL THEY LEARN,WHATS GOOD FOR PEOPLE,
IS LIVING HELL FOR DOGS.

IN SEARCH OF KITTY'S KIN(post natal depression)

In years gone by,if a lady suffered from post natal depression,chances are she was regarded as mad,and locked up.The subject of my poem is Katherine (Kitty) Miller.She was born in London around the year 1900,she came to Australia in 1910,married George Miller and had children.George died in 1920,two years after he had admitted Kitty to hospital suffering from "the madness" Total contact was lost with any other living relatives she had,and Kitty spent her remaining years in an Institution called "Bloomfield" in Orange (country New South Wales Australia) She spent over seventy years in this institution.Today we fix this problem with council and medication,not so in the past.

IN SILENCE,SHE SITS BY THE WINDOW.
FRAIL,CONFINED TO A CHAIR.
THINKING OF ,WHO CAN TELL,OR WHAT,
AS SHE HAS FOR MANY A YEAR.
GRIEF AT DEATH,WAS HER LAST,AND ONE SIN,
NOW AUSTRALIA SEARCHES,FOR HER NEXT OF KIN.

HER BABY HAD DIED,SHE'D TRIED TO BE BRAVE.
BUT EMOTIONS TOOK HOLD,WHEN,SHE SAW THE SMALL GRAVE.
DID SHE SEE WHAT SHE SAW?
"NO" THEY SAY ,WAS ILLUSION,
THEN REGARDLESS OF FACT,
WAS CONFINED,TO SECLUSION.
A LIFETIME AGO,YES THREE SCORE AND TEN,
COMMITED INSANE,BY THE STROKE OF A PEN.

THEY,KITTY'S LIFE WASTED,JUDGED MENTALLY ILL
BY SYMPTOM NOW FIXED,BY A SMALL YELLOW PILL.
IN SECRET FROM FAMILY,
HER HUSBAND,SHAME HIDES.
THEN HE,THE ONLY ONE KNOWING
TRAGICALLY DIES.
THE LONELY YEARS ROLL,JUST MORE FOLLOWS SAME.
WAITING FOR SOMEONE,BUT,NOBODY CAME.

NOW KITTY IS OLD,A CENTURY ON,
HER HOSPITAL FRIENDS SEARCH FOR RELATIVES, GONE.
WHERE ARE THEY NOW ?
ARE THEY SEARCHING IN VAIN?
IS THERE ANYONE KNOWINGLY BARES KITTY'S NAME?
IN SILENCE,SHE SITS BY THE WINDOW,
FRAIL,CONFINED TO A CHAIR.
HER EYES,HOLD THE TEARS,AS THEY HAVE DONE FOR YEARS
IS THERE SOMEONE THAT LOVES HER OUT THERE ?

MY WIFE

I love my wife very much,and I've gone to length to explain this before,And whilst she is the "perfect wife",she has her faults(as do we all).She smokes,she sometimes blows wind and blames the dog,and speaking of the dog,she always seems to avoid picking up its mess.But there is one more---fault

THE WIND KISSED THE LIPS
OF THE LEAVES ON THE TREE
AS THEY FLUTTERED ON HIGH
IN THE BREEZE.
THE CRASH OF THE WAVES
THROUGH THE MIDNIGHT HAZE
AS THEY BREAK ON THE SAND
OF THE SHORE.

THE HOOT OF THE OWL
THE NEXTDOOR DOG HOWL
AND THE NOISE THAT MAKE
ANGELS TAKE FLIGHT.
LIKE THE CREAK OF THE FLOOR
AS YOU WALK THROUGH THE DOOR
OF THE HOUSE,
IN THE MIDST OF THE NIGHT.

I COULD TAKE ALL THIS RACKET,
LYING SNUG IN MY PACKET,
WHERE I'D STAY IN THE WARMTH
TILL THE MORN.
BUT,INSTEAD IN MY HEAD
ALL I HEAR IN MY BED
IS THE SOUND
OF MY LOVELLY WIFE SNORIN'

HAVE YOU YET TRIED TO MUFFLE,
A PIG SEEKING TRUFFLE?
OR DOGS FIGHTING OVER A BONE ?
SHE MAKES SUCH A DIN,
THAT I USUALLY GIVE IN
AND FIND THE SPARE BED,
----- ON MY OWN.

LADY ASH OF LEIGH

GOD FORBID, IN DAYS GONE BY THAT A CATHOLIC BOY WOULD BRING HOME A PROTESTANT GIRL,THAT A JEW WOULD BRING HOME A MUSLIM.THAT A CELTIC BOY WOULD BRING HOME A GIRL WHO'S DAD WENT FOR RANGERS.IN THE WEST OF SYDNEY ITS RUGBY LEAGUE WE PLAY.MY COUSIN-IN-LAW AND I,ARE THIRTY ODD YEAR SUPPORTERS OF THE MIGHTY PARRAMATTA EELS.PETE'S DAUGHTER IS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE CHEERLEADERS FOR THE EELS.OTHER STRANGE PEOPLE IN THE WEST OF SYDNEY GO FOR THE PENRITH PANTHERS,MOST OF THEM ARE DEMENTED PEOPLE,THE KIND OF PEOPLE THAT WEAR PITT BULL TERRIERS AROUND THEIR NECKS FOR DECORATION AND CUDDLE THEIR OWN RELATIVES--NEVER MIND EACH TO THEIR OWN--BUT WHAT HAPPENED ? THIS VERY EDUCATED,ATTRACTIVE,UNTIL NOW VERY SENSIBLE GIRL---STARTED GOING OUT WITH A BLOODY PANTHER SUPPORTER.---GOD KNOWS WHAT THEIR CHILDREN MAY TURN OUT LIKE.PETE(WHO WAS A COP UNTIL HE FOUND OUT IT WAS BETTER PAY AND LESS DANGEROUS TO SIT IN AN OFFICE)MUST BE A VERY ,VERY SAD MAN,HE DOESN'T TALK ABOUT IT,HE SMILES-BUT I KNOW!

HIGH.IN THE TOWER
MIDST GLENMORE FOREST,
SITS LADY ASH OF LEIGH.
FOR SHE HAD BEEN A COURTING
A PENRITH LAD, YOU SEE?
SIR BENALOT,A HANDSOME YOUTH
(THOUGH DON'T HAVE MUCH UP TOP)
HAD SNUCK HER OUT THE BACKDOOR
TO AVOID"THE BALDING COP".

FOR THE WICKED,BALDING EX-COP
HAD FORBIDDEN THEY SHOULD MEET,
AND HE HAD CAUGHT THEM SNOGGING
IN THE BUSHES DOWN THE STREET.
"BUGGER OFF YOU LITTLE BASTARD,
SHE'S FOR A MAN OF CLASS,
AND IF I CATCH YOU SNIFFING HERE AGAIN,
I'LL KICK YOU UP THE ARSE."

HEARTBROKEN,SHE SITS IN THE TOWER,
FOR THE MAN SHE LOVED,SHE WAITED
"SIR BENALOT OF PENRITH"
THE MAN HER FATHER HATED.
"PRAY DADDY,TELL ME DADDY
WHY DO YOU HATE HIM SO?
WHY DID YOU TELL HIM BUGGER OFF?
DADDY,WHERE DID BENALOT GO?"

AND THE WICKED,BALDING EX-COP
LOOKED ASH OF LEIGH IN EYE.
A TEAR WAS ROLLING DOWN HIS CHEEK
"DADDY,WHY DO YOU CRY?"
"I HAD TO DO THE THINGS I DID,
THOUGH YOUR LOVE FOR HIM WAS REAL,
HE'S A BLOODY PANTHER,
YOU?-- YOU WERE BORN AN EEL!"

THE BATTLE OF SOUTH CREEK

This is a story from a friend of mine.John Tebbutt has lived his whole life in Windsor New Soth Wales,in fact being now in his mid 60's has always lived on the same rural property,formerly a vegetable crop farm,now a turf farm.He of course grew up there. It would have been a fantastic place to grow up.South Creek runs through the property and you can imagine the fun kids would have with home made rafts,tree swings and battles that would have been fought between local gangs of boys.So here is my poetic version of Johns story.

IN THE DAYS WHEN ROY RODGERS WAS HERO.
FIFTY OR SO SUMMERS GONE BY
TOOK PLACE"THE BATTLE OF SOUTH CREEK"
WHEN CAME TO WINDSOR -THIS GUY.
THERE WAS TEBBO,CAMAK AND HINCHEY,
AND THE OTHER A MULLINGER KID
OH,AND OF COURSE OUR HERO FROM MELBOURNE,
AND I'LL TELL YOU JUST WHAT HE DID

THE GANG WERE HOLED UP,IN A BARN BY THE CREEK,
DAYS GONE BY,AN OLD MILKING SHED.
BUT BOYS BEING BOYS,THEY'D MOVED IN,AND
IT WAS THEIR "FORT APACHE" INSTEAD.
THEY HAD HEARD THE WORD THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE
THAT THEY HAD BETTER BE ON THEIR JOB,
"FORT APACHE"WAS BEING INVADED BY,
DOOLEY MAYNE AND HIS SOUTH WINDSOR MOB.

THEY DIDN'T EVEN SEE DOOLEY COMING.
BY CANOE,THEY'D CREAPT UP STREAM.
"INJUNS-INJUNS" CRIED OUT HINCHEY,
AS HE LET OUT A BLOOD CURDLING SCREAM.
TO THE FORT THEY RAN FOR THEIR SAFETY,
MUD GRANADES FLY AS THEY RUN
BUT THEIR DOMAIN WAS SOON TAKEN OVER
OUT NUMBERED BY TWENTY TO ONE.

TO THE OAK TREE THEY FLED,AS THEY MADE THEIR RETREAT
AND TOOK STOCK OF THEIR LOSSES AND GAIN
OF FIVE OF THEM THAT STARTED OUT
ONLY FOUR OF THEM NOW REMAIN.
"WHERE'S BLAKELY ?" CRIED THE MULLINGER KID
DID HE FALL IN THE BATTLE,OR FLEE?"
"I DON'T KNOW" SAID CAMAK AND HINCHEY
"WE WERE RUNNING TO FAST TO SEE"

LIKE ANZACS.THEY FOUGHT ON IN VALOUR.
BUT LIKE CUSTER,THEIR EFFORTS WERE LOST.
MUD GRENADES WERE FAST RUNNING OUT,
AND ALREADY A MAN IT HAD COST.
"THE BUGLE" (WELL,IT SOUNDED MORE LIKE A TRACTOR)
ON THE HORIZON.RE-ENFORCEMENTS WERE NEAR.
IT WAS DESERTER BLAKELEY, AND TEBBO'S DAD,
AND DOOLEYS GANG SCATTERED IN FEAR.

AND,WANTING TO PRESS HIS ADVANTAGE
OF HIS VICTORY,WISHING TO GLOAT.
BLAKELY RUNS TO THE WATERS EDGE
AND JUMPS IN DOOLEYS BOAT.
WITH MOBSTER CHASING IN HOT PURSUIT
"GERONIMO" HE CRIED
BLAKELY NOW,WAS SAFE AND SOUND
HE'D REACHED BANK,ON THE OTHER SIDE.

AND FROM SAFE HAVEN,ON THAT BANK
TO HOME WAS BUT SHORT RIDE.
BUT THERE IS JUST ONE BRIDGE IN WINDSOR,
TO CROSS FOR THE OTHER SIDE
AND DOOLEY WOULD BE THERE WAITING
FOR BLAKELEY TO ARRIVE.
WHAT WILL OUR CUNNING HERO DO,
TO AVOID A BUNCH OF FIVE?

THEY EVEN HAD CARS IN THOSE DAYS,
AND THEY HAD HITCH-HIKERS TOO
SO.BLAKELEY-HE STUCK OUT HIS THUMB
(I WOULDN'T PICK HIM UP -WOULD YOU?)
BUT SOMEONE DID."TO WINDSOR PLEASE"
SAID OUR HERO,WITH A SIGH.
AND ON THE BRIDGE STOOD DOOLEY.
BLAKELEY WAVED,AS HE WENT BY.

LORNE,JIM AND HOUND

I've written before about Lorne and Jim the Sheep shearer and his wife who live in Young,Country New South Wales,Australia---I wouldn't be able to stand it myself,but they are among the millions of people on this planet,that allow their pet dogs to sleep with them,I think the only plus would be,that you can fart,and always have the dog to blame.Their dogs name was Cujo,and this is their poem.

JIM SAID "GOODNIGHT,I'M OFF TO BED,
I'M TIRED,AND CAN'T STOP YAWNING,
I'VE HAD ENOUGH FOR ONE DAY,
I'LL SEE YOU IN THE MORNING"
HE WANDERED DOWN THE HALLWAY
WITH SLEEPING ON HIS MIND,
THEN THE PATTER OF LITTLE FEET.
"JIM,THE CREATURE'S RIGHT BEHIND".

"C'MON YOU MONGREL THING,
HURRY UP AND DON'T BE SLOW,
I'LL LET YOU OUT TO HAVE A LEAK,
THEN ITS OFF TO BED WE GO".
THE CREATURE DID,WHAT HE HAD TO DO,
AND JIM CLIMBED IN HIS BED.
WITH JOBBIES DONE,THE DOG JUMPED IN,
LANDING STRAIGHT ON POOR JIMS HEAD

"GET OFF YOU UGLY CRITTER,
AND GIVE A MAN SOME PEACE,
HURRY UP AND SETTLE DOWN,
AND NO MORE SNORING PLEASE.
YOU'LL HAVE MUM HERE IN A MINUTE,
ITS GETTING PRETTY LATE,
MOVE OVER YOU ROTTEN LOUSY THING
OR THE SHED WILL BE YOUR FATE"

LORNIE CAME SOON AFTER
SETTLING DOWN,TURNED OFF THE LIGHT,
AND ALL WERE IN THE LAND OF NOD,
BUT WHAT A NOISY FIGHT.
WITH MUM AND CRITTER SNORING
JIMS TEETH,A GRINDING SOUND.
AND THERE THEY STAYED TILL MORNING
LORNIE ,JIM AND HOUND

THE NEVER ENDING MILE

I SAID TO MY MATE RICHARD THE OTHER DAY.I'D WRITTEN ALL SORTS OF POEMS ABOUT PEOPLE AND ABOUT THINGS,BUT I HAD NEVER WRITTEN ONE FOR JULIE, MY WIFE,AND AS I SAID TO RICHARD,I'D WRITTEN LOVE POEMS IN THE PAST FOR PEOPLE IN WHICH I SPEWED FORTH ALL SORTS OF STUFF,AND NOW THAT I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE ONE FOR JULIE,THE WORDS WOULD ONLY SOUND TRITE.BUT I HAD,I'D WRITTEN THIS A FEW YEARS AGO WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG,AND MY FEELINGS STILL REMAIN THE SAME.

WALK WITH ME,WALK WITH ME
FOR MORE THAN JUST A WHILE.
TOGETHER,WE WILL SET OUT ON
THE NEVER ENDING MILE.
NOW WE'VE FOUND EACHOTHER
AND KNOW ITS NOT TOO LATE
SOUL MATE- ANAM CARA
ANAM CARA,MY SOUL-MATE.
SO WALK WITH ME,PLEASE,WALK WITH ME
FOREVER AND A WHILE
TOGETHER,LET US SET OUT ON,
THE NEVER ENDING MILE

TAKING DOPE TO BALI

I DON'T GET IT,SCHAPELLE CORBY IS FACING A LIFE IN PRISON,OR EVEN THE DEATH PENANLTY,FOR TRYING TO SMUGGLE 4.5 KG OF AUSTRALIAN DOPE INTO BALI.DALE A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE MANAGED TO SMUGGLE AROUND 60 K G OF AUSTRALIAN DOPE INTO BALI-NO PROBLEM.ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE KATHY,SMUGGLED AROUND 90 K.G OF NEW ZEALAND GROWN DOPE INTO BALI-NO PROBLEM.WHATS MORE THEY BOTH MANAGED TO GET SIMILAR AMOUNTS OF DOPE -OUT OF BALI--SCHAPELLE WHAT DID YOU DO WRONG?

IF I EVER GO TO BALI,
NOT MEANING TO BE RUDE.
BUT I'M GOING TO FLY THERE NAKED
YES,I'M FLYING IN THE NUDE.
THEY'LL FIND NO DOPE ON ME FOR SURE
I SWEAR UPON MY SOLE
THEY CAN SEARCH IN EVERY ORIFICE
IN EACH AND EVERY HOLE

AND I'LL TAKE WITH ME NO LUGGAGE
I'LL BUY IT WHEN I LAND
AND EVERYTHING I TAKE WITH ME
I'M KEEPING IN MY HAND.
CAUSE YOU JUST CAN'T TRUST THE BUGGERS
YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'LL FIND
WHEN THEY RUMMAGE THROUGH YOUR LUGGAGE,
SET YOU UP,OR ROB YOU BLIND

JUST THINK OF SCHAPELLE CORBY
STUCK IN THAT BALI CELL
AND OF THOSE OTHER SILLY BUGGERS
STUCK IN THAT LIVING HELL.
DON'T GO THERE FRIENDS,STAY AT HOME
HOLIDAY IN OZ
YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE NO OTHER PLACE
WE'RE IN THE BEST THERE WAS

SWEAT(NOT SWEET. NOT WET) SWEAT DREAM

THIS POEM NEEDS NO ITRODUCTION OR EXPLANATION-----ENJOY (I HATE THAT,YOU KNOW ONE DAY I WENT INTO A SHOE SHOP AND GOT A PAIR OF BOOTS-UPON PAYING THE BLOKE IN THE SHOP SAID "ENJOY" ITS BAD ENOUGH IN A CAFE--BUT A SHOE SHOP?)

ROLLING SEAS,
WAVES,KISS THE SHORE.
BIRDS HOVERING ON HIGH
FOR MORSELS SCAN.
HORIZONS,HORIZONS SO FAR,
WHAT LIES BEYOND.
AM I LOST?
AM I AT ALL?
OR DO I JUST EXIST,IN ME.
ALAS,I KNOW NOT.

"TONE-----TONE--WAKE UP--WAKE UP"

"HUH?"
WOULD IT BE
THAT I SHOULD FLY?
COULD IT BE?
NO--NO NOT I

"TONE--WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?"

"HUH--WHAT?"

"COR BILMEY MATE,
WHATS GOING ON
I COULDN'T HAVE BEEN
ASLEEP FOR LONG"

"YOU WERE,
YOU WERE IN THE LAND OF NOD
RANTING A RAVING
YOU SILLY SOD."

"KNOW WHAT?
I DREAMED THE POETS CURSE
THE STUFF I HATE.
NON RHYMING VERSE.
IT KEPT ME AWAKE
HALF THE NIGHT,
WOKE UP IN A SWEAT
RECITING SHITE"

K.C ,THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER

HAVE YOU EVER GIVEN A JOB TO A BLOKE THAT SAID HE COULD DO THIS AND THAT,JUST TO FIND OUT AFTER THE INTERVIEW,AND YOU'VE GIVEN HIM THE JOB-THAT IT WAS ALL BULLSHIT? THIS IS THAT STORY ON AN AUSTRALIAN STATION."THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER" WAS AN ORIGINAL BUSH POEM WRITTEN BY BANJO PATTERSON IN 1890-(THE SAME MAN THAT WROTE "WALTZING MATILDA") I MEAN HIM NO DISRESPECT WITH MY VERSE.

HE,WAS THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER.
AT LEAST,THATS WHAT HE THOUGHT.
THE MASTER OF THE EQUINE BEAST,
A KNOW ALL-----SELF TAUGHT.
HE HAD CHARGE OF THE STATION NAGS,
'CAUSE,THE COCKY,HE WAS "FULL"
TOO DRUNK AT K.C'S INTERVIEW
TO RECOGNISE THE "BULL".
FIRST MORNING IT WAS OBVIOUS
AT MUSTER HE WAS THERE,
THE FIRST HE HAD TO SADDLE UP
WAS THE STUBBORN OLD GREY MARE.
"DOGS MEAT" WHAT THEY CALLED HER
FOR SHE WAS AN EVIL BITCH
YOU COULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HER
WITHOUT A STOCK WHIP AND A TWITCH.
K.C WALKED TOWARDS HER
IN HAT AND DUNGAREES,
"HEY BOW LEG,WHERE'S YOUR SIX GUN ?"
THE SHEARERS SHOUT THERE TEASE.
UNAMUSED AND UNRUFFLED
HE SAUNTERED TO HIS FOE,
THEN JUST BETWEEN THREE PACES
THE OLD GREY MARE LET GO.
IN THE AIR SHE WENT,
AND ALL FOUR LEGS AT THAT,
MIDST THE DUST ,THE TURMOIL
OFF FLEW K.C'S HAT,
HE DROPPED THE PAD AND BRIDLE
AND TOOK OFF LIKE A NARK.
BUT THE OLD GREY MARE THOUGHT "THIS IS FUN"
AND CHASED HIM ROUND THE PARK.
THE LAUGHTER WAS TREMENDOUS
AS THE SHEARING GANG LOOKED ON,
BUT THINGS QUICKLY QUIETENED DOWN
WHEN THE COCKY CAME ALONG.
"WHATS GOIN ON ?" HE SCREAMED
"WHY'S NOT THE SHEARING STARTED?
WHY AREN'T THOSE HORSES SADDLED UP?
AND WHY NOT THE EWES ALL YARDED?"
THEN HE LOOKED OUT IN THE PADDOCK,
FIRST HE SAW THE MARE,
AND,THROUGH ALL THE DUST AND STUFF,
SAW K.C,STANDING THERE.
"OLD GIRL" HAD GOT HIM CORNERED,
HE WOULDN'T MOVE,NO WAY.
AND IF IT WASN'T FOR THE COCKY,
HE'D BE THERE TO THIS DAY.
NO LONGER IN THE STOCKMANS HAT,
NO MORE IN DUNGAREES,
ITS SEEMS WHILE "OLD GREY" WAS CHASING HIM
THEY'D FALLEN TO HIS KNEES.
"YOU SAID YOU WERE A HORSEMAN"
THE COCKY OUT HE CRIED.
"PICK UP YOUR SWAG,AND MOVE ON OUT"
FOR THE COCKY KNEW HE'D LIED.
"GET YOUR STUFF,GET OUT OF HERE,
FOR YOU THERE'LL BE NO PAY"
THE OLD GREY MARE,KICKED HIS REAR
AND HELPED HIM ON HIS WAY.
THE MASTER OF THE EQUINE BEAST,
A KNOW ALL ,SELF TAUGHT.
THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER,
AT LEAST,THATS WHAT HE THOUGHT.

THE COCKY'S DAUGHTER'S PET

THIS IS ANOTHER POEM INSPIRED BY OLD JIM.FOR THOSE NOT LIVING IN AUSTRALIA IT MAY BE IMPORTANT TO KNOW,THAT THE COCKY IS THE STATION (FARM) BOSS &TUCKER IS FOOD.ON THESE STATIONS, THE COCKY LIVES WITH HIS FAMILY,AND AS ANYWHERE ELSE, KIDS FALL IN LOVE WITH PETS.ON A STATION USUALLY IT'S A LAMB OR YOUNG SHEEP,AND THEY MAKE SUCH A FUSS OF THE ANIMALS, THAT THEY BECOME IMPOSSIBLE TO HANDLE LIKE THE OTHER SHEEP.BUT LIKE ALL THE OTHER SHEEP,THEY NEED TO BE SHORN.

"ITS THE LAST ONE THAT I'LL SHEAR TODAY,
THEN I'M HANGING UP ME TOOL.
COME HERE YOU ROTTEN MONGREL THING
DON'T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL.
I'VE HAD TWO HUNDRED LIKE YOU THIS DAY
AND NOW ITS TIME FOR TUCKER'
I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT WITH YOU ALL NIGHT
COME HERE YOU WOOLEY BUGGER."

THE COCKY'S DAUGHTERS PET,
THE ONE HE LET HER KEEP
IT ACTS MORE LIKE A PUPPY DOG,
THAN ALL THE OTHER SHEEP.
EVERY STATIONS GOT ONE,
OR TWO OR THREE OR MORE
AND I'M SUPPOSED TO SHEAR THEM,
WHAT DO THEY TAKE ME FOR?

"GET OVER HERE LAMB CHOPS,
I'M NOT CHASING AFTER YOU.
I'LL SLIT YER BLOODY THROAT YER THING
AND YOU'LL END UP IN A STEW.
PET OR NO PET,
MATTERS NOT TO ME
I'LL HAVE YER COAT LIKE ALL THE REST,
THEN I'M GOING TO HAVE ME TEA"

HALF THE NIGHT I CHASED THIS THING
ALL AROUND THE PARK
AND BY THE TIME I CAUGHT IT
IT WAS NEARER MORN THAN DARK.
BUT I CAUGHT IT,AND I CLIPPED IT
NO BEATING ME,YOU BET.
YEP,EVERY STATIONS GOT ONE,
THE COCKY'S DAUGHTERS PET.

THE STUBBORN OLD GREY MARE

THE INCUBATOR OF MY SON,HAD A HORSE,THAT JUST DIDN'T LIKE TO GO ON THE HORSE-FLOAT AS WAS ITS OWNER,IT WAS STUBBORN AND ONLY WANTED TO DO WHAT SHE WANTED.THIS IS THE STORY.

THERE'S AN OLD GREY MARE IN THE PADDOCK,
THATS DECIDED SHE'S GOING TO STAY.
NO MATTER THE MEANS,AND WAYS WE TRY
SHE'S NOT GOING--NO WAY!
WE'VE POKED AND PRODDED WITH NEEDLES
AND FILLED HER FULL OF DRUGS,
BUT SHE JUST STANDS FIRM,WITH ROLLING EYES,
STARING,IS IF WE'RE MUGS.
WE'VE CRACKED THE WHIP,AND TUGGED WITH ROPES
AND STILL CAN'T MAKE HER NUDGE
YOU COULD PRIME HER ARSE WITH DYNOMITE
YET STILL SHE WOULDN'T BUDGE.

SO,WE BROUGHT THE EXPERTS IN,
FOR MANY A YEAR THEIR GLOAT
"THERE'S NEVER YET BEEN FOALED A HORSE
THAT WE COULDN'T GET ON A FLOAT."
THEY ARRIVED JUST AFTER SUNRISE,
THEIR CONFIDENCE WAS HIGH
BUT THEY HADN'T EVEN CAUGHT "OLD GIRL"
WITH HALF THE DAY GONE BY.
SHE GOT CAUGHT,WHEN SHE WANTED TO
AND ACTED QUIET AND TAME
LITTLE DID THE EXPERT KNOW
IT WAS ALL PART OF THE GAME.

SHE EYED THE FLOAT,FROM AFAR
THEN SAUNTERED UP,QUITE NEAR
THEN JUST WHEN THEY THOUGHT,THEY'D HAD HER BEST
ON BACK LEGS DID SHE REAR.
ONE WENT FLYING THIS WAY,
THE OTHER RAN OFF THAT.
THE OLD GREY MARE LET OUT A LAUGH,
AS ON THE THIRD ONE,THERE SHE SAT.

THE EXPERTS,THAT COULD NOT BE BEAT,
WHO SAID THEY WERE THE BEST,
TO THE OLD GREY MARE WERE NOTHING
WHEN SHE PUT THEM TO THE TEST.

WE DECIDED AFTER THAT
TO LET THE OLD GIRL STAY
'CAUSE SHE DIDN'T REALLY WANT TO GO,
OR ,SHE'D HAVE GONE ANYWAY.
BUT NOW,THE HOUSE IS UP FOR SALE
AND THE ADVERTISEMENT READS OF COURSE.
"THREE BEDROOMS,LOUNGE AND DINING ROOM,
AND A STUBBORN OLD GREY HORSE."

A MAN CAN'T DO RIGHT IF HE TRIES

I WAS FIRST GIVEN THE NAME "MAD TONE" BY RICHARD, A FRIEND OF MINE.HE MEANT "MAD" IN THE "SILLY AS A HAT FULL OF ARSEHOLES" WAY--BUT MY WRITINGS, AS DALE ANOTHER FRIEND OF MINE HAS POINTED OUT--HAS BEEN "MAD" IN THE ANGRY KIND OF WAY.SO BARING ANY NATURAL OR WORLDLY BUGGER UPS-FOR A WHILE WE SHALL BE DOING MORE OF THE AUSTRALIAN BUSH TYPE POEMS.YOU MAY FIND (AS IN THIS ONE) JIM AND LORNE POP UP,THEY ARE A COUPLE OF LOVELY DOWN TO EARTH PEOPLE I MET SOME YEARS AGO.JIM WAS A SHEARER AND FATHER OF FOUR,WHO SPENT MUCH OF HIS CHILDRENS EARLY YEARS TRAVELLING AUSTRALIA SHEARING.LORNE THE DILIGENT WIFE SHE WAS,STAYED AT HOME AND RAISED THE KIDS.JIM WAS THE KIND OF BLOKE THAT WOULD GO TO THE RUBBISH DUMP (TIP) AND COME BACK WITH MORE THAN HE TOOK,MUCH TO LORNE'S DISGUST.JIM HASN'T BEEN WELL OF LATE AND I RE-DEDICATE THIS "BUSH POEM " TO HIM

"WHATS THE MATTER PET" SAID JIM,
AS HE STRUGGLES OUT OF BED.
"WHAT YOU DOIN,WHAT YA THINKIN?
TELL ME ,WHATS A STIRRING IN YER HEAD ?"

"OH,DON'T WORRY JIM,
IT WAS JUST A SILLY WISH
I WAS PICTURING IN THE FRONT YARD,
A NICE POND,WITH SOME FISH."

"THATS O.K PET,SHE'LL BE RIGHT,
NO SOONER SAID THAN DONE.
YOU KNOW I LIKE A CHALLENGE,
BESIDES,THIS COULD BE FUN,
AND I KNOW THE VERY THING",HE SAID
"WELL BUGGER,BLESS MY SOLE,
I'M POPPING DOWN THE ROAD PET,
GET THE SPADE AND DIG THE HOLE."

WELL,LORNE GOT OUT HER DIGGING BOOTS
AND HER BEST CAR BOOT SALE SHIRT.
SHE WAS MUD FROM ARSE TO ARMPIT
AS SHE STARTED DIGGING DIRT.
AND BY THE TIME OLD JIM GOT BACK
SHE'D A TRENCH FROM DRIVE TO PATH
"YOU POOR OLD BUGGER,SILLY THING,
THATS TOO BIG FOR THIS BATH".

"A BATH ?" SHE SAID"WHATS THAT FOR?
YOU SAID I'D GET A POND
YOU COULDN'T MAKE THAT THING LOOK RIGHT
WITH A BLOODY MAGIC WAND"
"NO WORRIES PET,SHE'LL BE RIGHT
GO GET THE FISHING POLE
AND WHILE YOU'RE BUSY DOING THAT.
I'LL FILL IN HALF THE HOLE".

"BUT I WANTED A FISH POND,
NOT A BLOODY BATH,
NOT SITTING IN MY FRONT YARD,
EVERYONE WILL LAUGH.
AND WHAT YA MEAN,THE FISHING POLE?
WHATS THAT ALL ABOUT?
I WANT IT FULL OF GOLDFISH
NOT CARP AND BLOODY TROUT."

"WELL,THERE'S NO PLEASING SOME,"SAID JIM
"I CAN'T DO RIGHT NO FEAR,
I'LL JUST HAVE TO THINK ON THIS,
GET A SMOKE,LETS HAVE A BEER".
AND JIM STILL SITS THERE THINKING
FIVE YEARS DOWN THE PATH,
ITS THE ONLY HOUSE IN THEIR STREET,
THATS GOT A FRONT YARD BATH

TRUST ME (AUSTRALIA DAY POEM)

AUSTRALIA DAY HAS BEEN AND GONE ONCE AGAIN,AND EVERY YEAR ITS THE SAME-THE WHITE "INVADERS" CELEBRATE,AND THE BLACK (INDIGENOUS)COMMISERATE.

WE BLAME THE ABORIGINALS
FOR BEING BLACK,FOR DRINKING.
BUT DID WE EVER THINK TO STOP
AND WONDER WAHT THEY'RE THINKING?
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO WE CAME
WITH SWORD AND GUN IN HAND.
DESTROYING,KILLING ALL IN FRONT
AS WE RAPED THEIR SACRED LAND.
WE TAUGHT THEM THAT THEIR WAY OF LIFE
WAS DIRTY,CRUDE AND WRONG
BUT STILL WE COULDN'T BREAK THEM,
THEIR LOVE OF OUR LAND TOO STRONG.
WE TAUGHT THEM HOW TO READ AND WRITE
GO TO CHURCHES,PRAY TO GOD.
WHILST WE ,IN OUR HEDONISTIC WAY
OVER THEIR VERY CULTURE TROD.
YES,WE TOOK THIS SUNBURNT COUNTRY
IN CRUEL,ONE SIDED FIGHTS.
NOT CARING FOR THEIR DREAMTIME,
NO BLACK COULD HAVE LAND RIGHTS.
BUT NOW,A TWINGE OF CONSCIENCE SHOWS,
WE WANT TO GIVE SOME BACK,
BUT THEY DON'T SEEM TO TRUST US,
OUR BROTHERS,FRIENDS,OUR BLACKS.

WILL YOU FOLLOW?

A FRIEND OF MINE ONE DAY ASKED IF I COULD WRITE A POEM ABOUT GOD.WELL I THINK MOST OF MY POEMS ARE ABOUT A GOD OF SOME KIND,BUT I KNEW WHAT HE MEANT,SO I HAD A GO AT WRITING AS IF I TRULY BELIEVED THAT THERE JUST MIGHT BE A SECOND COMING SO I SUPPOSE ITS MORE ABOUT JESUS REALLY ISN'T IT?

I WISH JESUS COULD COME HERE TODAY,
AND IF HE DID,I WOULD SAY,
"ITS SO LONG WE'VE WAITED,
NOW YOU'VE COME WE'RE ELATED,
NOW PLEASE,HEAL THE WORLD IF YOU MAY.

WE REALLY NEED JESUS TODAY,
FOR THE WORLDS IN A TERRIBLE WAY,
IF WE DON'T PULL TOGETHER
IT COULD BE LOST FOREVER
AND THE ULTIMATE PRICE WE WILL PAY.

WOULD JESUS DO JUST ONCE MORE,
WHAT HE DID TWO THOUSAND BEFORE.
COULD HE TAKE ALL THE PIECES,
AND SHOW US WHAT PEACE IS
THEN RID US OF HATRED AND WAR.

IF JESUS CAME HERE TODAY,
WOULD HE TAKE JUST ONE LOOK,THEN AWAY
OR WOULD HE THINK THAT THERE COULD
BE A GLIMMER OF GOOD
THEN FIND SOME DISCIPLES AND STAY?

WILL YOU GO IF HE CALLS?
WILL YOU FOLLOW
TO PLACES YOU NEVER HAVE BEEN?
WILL YOU HELP RID THE WORLD OF ALL EVIL
AND GIVE OUR CHILDREN A PLACE THAT IS CLEAN.

The Angel Of Charters Towers

Charters Towers is a town in Australia.Some years ago we had a nurse by the name of Pamela Rose who took it upon herself to do Gods work with the sick and dying in the local hospital-Following is my tribute to Pamela Rose who stood trial charged with the murder of one of her patients Ron Bucholtz.

SHE WAS THE ANGEL OF CHARTERS TOWERS,
SHE TOOK AWAY GODS POWERS,
VISITED THEM LATE,THROUGH THE NIGHT
SHE STROKED THEIR HEAD"IT'LL BE ALRIGHT"
BUT WHEN THEIR PAIN WAS TAKEN,
IT LEFT CHARTERS TOWERS SHAKEN
MANY PEOPLE LEFT TO SOB
"IS IT RIGHT TO DO GODS JOB?"

SOME PEOPLE SAY "ITS BEST TO BE
YOUR LIFE IN HANDS OF DESTINY,
NO THOUGHTS OF BEING WELL AGAIN
BUT THEY DON'T SEE THE PAIN,THE STRAIN
A PILLOW, CRADLE FOR THEIR HEAD
CAN'T MOVE,JUST WASTE AWAY IN BED.
TO SIT AND FEEL YOU BODY ROT
ALL THOUGHTS OF LOVE AND LIFE FORGOT.

YES,I BELIEVE IN DESTINY
AND PAMELA ROSE ,IS PART YOU SEE?
SHE COULDN'T SEE THEM LYING THERE
WHEN A MUCH MORE PEACEFUL ROAD COULD STEER.
SHE SET HERSELF AS JURY,JUDGE
A PUSH TO DEATH SHE GAVE A NUDGE
FOR RON BUCHOLTZ THERE'S NO MORE PAIN,
HIS FAMILY FREED,TO LIVE AGAIN

AND NOW HIS FEEBLE LIFE IS LOST
ITS PAMELA ROSE THAT PAYS THE COST.
STAYS IN HER HOME,SHE'S IN RETREAT
SHE CAN'T WALK DOWN THE CITY SREETS
THERE SHE STAYS,AND WON'T COME OUT
TO GIVE THEM MORE TO TALK ABOUT
BUT,PAMELA ROSE,DON'T GIVE UP THE FIGHT,
FOR THOSE WHO THINK YOU DID WHATS RIGHT.

AND PAMELA ROSE, SHOULD I EVER BE THIS ILL
I HOPE AND PRAY, YOU'RE NURSING STILL.

"MOTHER NATURE'S SCREAMING"

FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS NOW.MANKIND HAS BEEN RIPPING FROM ON TOP, AND FROM WITHIN MOTHER EARTH,AND GIVING NOTHING BACK.MAYBE SOME OF THE THINGS HAPPENING AROUND THE WORLD ,TELL US THAT MOTHER NATURE MAY HAVE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH.HERE IS MY SONG.

CH.
I HEAR MOTHER NATURE SCREAMING
"HELP,I'VE HAD ENOUGH.
YOU'VE RAPED AND SPOILED AND PILLAGED
NOW I'M GOING TO GET TOUGH.
I HELPED,WHILE YOU WERE GOOD TO ME
BUT YOU'VE TAKEN ALL I HAD
AND THE ONLY THINGS YOU'VE GIVEN BACK
HAVE SENT THE ACRES BAD"
1)
WELL I GUESS WE SHOULDN'T BLAME HER,
AS CHILDREN,WE'RE NOT GOOD.
WE HAVN'T DONE AS WE'VE BEEN TOLD
THOUGH WE KNOW WE SHOULD.
SHE GAVE US AIR THAT WE COULD BREATHE
GOOD LAND THAT WE COULD TILL
BUT WE POISONED EVERYTHING SHE GAVE
AND THE RIVERS ALL RUN STILL
CH.
2)
TWENTIETH CENTURY,MEACHANICAL MAN
WE STRIPPED HER BARE TO SWELTER.
FOR SHE HAD ALWAYS BEEN SO STRONG,
GAVE OUR FATHERS- FOOD AND SHELTER.
SHE'S BEEN HERE SINCE GODS CREATION
A MILLION ZILLION YEARS
BUT ITS ONLY SINCE WE MODERN MAN,
WE'VE HEARD OUR MOTHERS TEARS
CH.
3)
"IS IT TOO LATE,ARE WE FINISHED?"
AT LAST THE PEOPLE CRY.
"WE'RE SORRY MOTHER,FOR WHAT WE'VE DONE,
CAN WE MAKE IT BETTER IF WE TRY?"
WE'VE GOT TO LISTEN TO MOTHER NATURE
FOR,NO FUTURE IS OUR CHOICE.
BUT THINGS ARE NEVER GOING TO CHANGE,
TILL WE'RE SCREAMING WITH ONE VOICE.
CH
WE HEAR MOTHER NATURE SCREAMING
HELP WE'VE HAD ENOUGH.
WE'VE RAPED AND SPOILED AND PILLAGED
WE'RE NOT SUPRISED YOU'RE GETTING TOUGH
YOU HELPED WHILE WE WERE GOOD TO THEE,
BUT WE'VE TAKEN ALL YOU HAD.
AND THE ONLY THINGS WE'VE GIVEN BACK
HAVE SENT YOUR ACRES BAD. SORRY--SORRY--SORRY

TORTURED FROM THEIR BIRTH (STARVATION)

Seems a bit daft to me,European Nations stockpiling food whilst in other lands they can't get the next meal--this wonderfull world has its gardens and it has its sand pits-and I think its time we set out to make much better use of the gardens to help those living in the sand pits


THE WORLD'S A FUNNY PLACE,YOU KNOW
I'VE COME TO THIS CONCLUSION.
AND MANY DREAMS OF LOVE AND PEACE
AN OPTICAL ILLUSION.
I'VE SEEN THOSE SMALL,POT BELLIED KIDS
WITH HUNGER IN THIER EYES.
I'VE SEEN THEM HOLDING OUT THEIR HANDS
AND HEARD THEIR MOTHERS CRIES.
A GRAIN OF RICE,A PIECE OF CRUST,
ANYTHING WILL DO,
WHILE RICH MEN SIT,AND PLAY THEIR GAMES
DON'T GIVE A DAMN,ITS TRUE.
A FAMILY WALKS A THOUSAND MILES
FOR A SLICE OF BREAD,AND WATER.
A FATHER SITS,HE STROKES THE HEAD
OF HIS SICK AND DYING DAUGHTER.
THESE,ARE OUR FAMILIES CHILDREN
TORTURED FROM THEIR BIRTH.
OUR BROTHERS AND OUR SISTERS
PRECIOUS CREATURES OF OUR EARTH.
I REALLY FIND IT DIFFICULT
AND JUST CAN'T UNDERSTAND
WHY WE ALL CAN'T GET TOGETHER
ON THIS VAST AND FRUITFULL LAND,
TO SHARE THE SPOILS OF LABOUR
AND HELP FULFILL THEIR NEED.
FORGET OUR RACE,OUR DIFFERENCES,
SHOW PITY , LOVE , NOT GREED.

WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR(STREET KIDS)

It seems everyone I know has a story to tell regarding a family member or a close friend that has children that got caught in the dreaded drug trap.Lucky for me it hasn't hit too close to home,but it is obvious as we walk our streets and see the kids-at all hours of the day and night,wandering and lost.Where does the help come from?I suppose we do have to do all we can to stop the flow of drugs into our country,but meanwhile there's much work to do helping these kids.


IN QUIET CITY ALLEYS.AWAY FROM THE LIGHT,
OR ALONE IN THE PARK,LIVE THE KIDS OF THE NIGHT.
FROM BROKEN DOWN FAMILIES,OR PARENTS THAT BEAT,
THESE PLACES GIVE US,OUR KIDS OF THE STREET.
THEY THINK WE DON'T LOVE THEM,SO THEY HAVE TO BE TOUGH.
BUT TO LEAVE THEM OUTCAST,JUST ISN'T ENOUGH,
IN GRAVE MORAL DANGER,FROM PERVERTS AND THUGS
AND MORONS THAT CREEP THE STREETS SELLING DRUGS.
THESE ARE OUR CHILDREN,NOT SOMEONE'S MISTAKE
TO SHOW THAT WE CARE,JUST WHAT DOES IT TAKE?
TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRLS ,WAIT ON CORNERS FOR MEN,
A BOY,THE SAME AGE IN A STRANGERS CAR THEN
DISAPEARS OUT OF SITE FOR WHO KNOWS WHAT FOR,
COULD YOU SEE YOUR CHILD ANOTHER MANS WHORE?
POLICE SIRENS WAIL, AND SCREAM DOWN THE STREET,
ONE MORE OF OUR KIDS,LIE DEAD AT THEIR FEET.
SOUP KITCHENS ARE FULL,BUT NOT ALL GET FED
QUEUES AT CHARITY HOMES,IN NEED OF A BED.
THOSE THAT MISS OUT-- RETURN TO THE PARK,
ALONE,TIRED AND FRIGHTENED,OUT THERE,IN THE DARK.
THEY ALL MISS THE LOVE THAT A PARENT SHOULD GIVE
WARMTH,COMFORT AND PEACE,FROM THE PLACE THAT WE LIVE
WHERE LIES THERE FUTURE, AND WHAT LAYS IN STORE
THEY NEED OUR HELP-----WHAT ARE WE WAITING FOR ?

DIGGER 2004 (ANTI IRAQ WAR)

Through the years Australia has always been so willing to answer the call,to go to battle in wars that have very rarely reached our shores.We've sent away hundreds of thousands of our best and bravest men,to shed their blood on far away battlefields--Why ?


THE BOY STOOD ON THE WARSHIP DECK,
TEARS ROLLING DOWN HIS CHEEKS.
SADLY WAVING,TO HIS FAMILY
TOO AFRAID TO SPEAK.
"HE'S OFF TO WAR YOU KNOW,
THIS FIGHTING MAN FROM AUS,
HE DON'T KNOW WHY HE'S GOING THERE,
HE'S JUST GOING THERE-- BECAUSE (BECOZ)
WE'LL STAND BY OUR YANKEE FRIENDS
YES,WE'LL PROTECT THEIR OIL
NOT CARING FOR THE LIVES OF THEM,
OR FAMILIES THEY COULD SPOIL.

THESE "BRAVE YOUNG MEN FROM AUS"
NOT KNOWING WHATS IN STORE
AS THEIR SHIPS STEAM FROM THE HARBOUR
TO ANOTHER FOREIGN SHORE.
WE'VE BEEN THIS WAY BEFORE YOU KNOW,
AND ARE JUST TOO BLIND TO SEE,
HERE COMES ANOTHER VIETNAM
ONE MORE GALLIPOLI

PROGRESS

Gee we've come along as a civilisation in our ways of being able to kill,from the days when Ug would belt Og over the head with a stick,to the days now when some chicken livered arsehole that wouldn't stand up in a one on one fight,can blow up a nation on the other side of the world,I ask the question--is that progress ?


IN DAYS OF CAVES,AND DINOSAUR,
WHEN PEOPLE WENT TO WAR,
THEY'D HIT THEIR FOES WITH STICKS AND CLUBS
TIL BLOODIED,RED AND SORE.
AS TIME PROGRESSED,WHEN MEN GOT DRESSED
THEY BOWS AND ARROWS FOUND,
FIRED FROM TREES,OR ON THEIR KNEES
THEIR ENEMIES HIT THE GROUND.
WITH METAL,CAME THE MIGHTY SWORD,
FLASHING SABRE,BAYONET,
WITH VICTIM CRASHING TO THE FLOOR,
WHEN FLESH AND IRON MET

MAN GOT CLEVER,AS YEARS WENT ON,
WE MADE CANNONS AND GUN POWDER,
SAILING SEAS TO OTHER LANDS
AS BATTLE SOUNDS GREW LOUDER.
ON THE SEVEN SEAS THE CONFLICT RAGE
WITH CANNON BALLS SHIPS SANK,
WHILST ON LAND ARMIES WENT,
WITH RIFLES AND ARMOURED TANK

MAN COULD NEVER LIVE IN PEACE,
AS COUNTRIES FOUGHT WITH OTHERS,
AND TO THE AIR THE FIGHTING WENT
THANKS TO THE SMART WRIGHT BROTHERS.
MACHINE GUNS RATTLED IN THE SKY
AS FOLKS LAY IN THEIR BED
BOMBS DROPPED FROM A THOUSAND FEET
HUNDREDS LYING DEAD.
THERE'S MISSILES FLYING BY THEMSELVES
THERE'S THOSE THAT SPREAD DISEASE
AND THOSE THAT KILL PEOPLE,
BUT LEAVE BUILDINGS,AND THE TREES.
THEN WE GOT THE BIG ONE
WHAT A RIPPER,WHAT A SCREAMER,
A FLATTENED CITY IN ONE GO-
GONE NAGASAKI,HIROSHIMA.

NOW THE WORLD ALL LIVES IN FEAR
OF THAT LAST AND FINAL DAY.
THE MUSHROOM CLOUDS LOOM OVERHEAD,
AS WE ALL ARE SWEPT AWAY.
WE SURE HAVE MADE SOME PROGRESS
SINCE THE DAYS OF CAVES
BUT THAT JUST SHOWS THE STUPID WAY
"INTELLIGENT" MAN BEHAVES.
IN THOSE DAYS,IF MAN WAS ANGERED
IT WAS ONE ON ONE FRONTATION
NOW,WE'RE IN THE HANDS OF LUNATICS,
A RED BUTTON RULES THE NATION.

BLOODY TOOTHACHE

I reckon that toothache and earache are the two worst aches there are,both as unbearable as the other,I had one such toothache that drove me to insanity and thus this poem


I'VE HAD THIS BLOODY TOOTHACHE,
ITS DRIVING ME INSANE,
NO SOONER I GET RID OF IT,
THE BASTARDS BACK AGAIN.
I COULDN'T EAT AT BREAKFAST
MY LUNCH I COULDN'T TAKE
AND MY WILDEST DREAM AT THIS TIME
IS TO EAT A PIECE OF STEAK.
BUT THIS BLOODY ROTTEN, FRIGGIN TOOTH
WON'T LET ME TAKE A BITE
IT HURT ME ALL OF YESTERDAY
AND HALF THE BLOODY NIGHT.
I SIT HERE NUMB WITH CLOVE OIL
CAN'T FEEL ME FACE OR TONGUE
BUT THIS BLOODY ROTTEN BASTARD TOOTH
STILL THE MONGREL STUNG.
IF IT STILL HURTS TOMORROW
I'M CLIMBING ON THE ROOF
THIS PAIN WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME
THIS BLOODY ROTTEN TOOTH.
I'M HALF JUNKED UP WITH ASPRIN
AND OTHER BLOODY STUFF
BUT TRY AND TELL THIS BLOODY TOOTH
ITS E-BLOODY NOUGH
THEY CAN KILL THE PAIN OF PERIODS
AND IT WORKS,THERES NO DENIALS
HEART TRANSPLANTS--NO PROBLEMS
THEY CAN EVEN CURE PILES.
BUT THIS BLOODY ROTTEN TOOTHACHE
THATS DRIVING ME INSANE
NO SOONER I GET RID OF IT-
THE BASTARDS BACK AGAIN.

WHEN THE WORLD WAS GREEN

We humans made the mess of the world that it is today,and for all the stupid planning,raping and pillage we have done,we now pay the price,but long ago ,when the world was green----aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh


WHEN THE WORLD WAS GREEN,
AND NOT OBSCENE.
NOT COVERED WITH MANS SCARS,
BEFORE THE DAYS OF BIG MACHINES
OF TRAINS AND MOTOR CARS
A TIME WHEN WE COULD WALK AROUND
BREATHING IN FRESH AIR.
WHEN CHILDREN WOULD ALL LIVE THEIR LIFE
WITH NO NUCLEAR FEAR.
WHEN MAN WOULD TAKE FROM THE LAND
ONLY WHAT HE'D NEED.
BUILD HIS HOUSE,AND LEAVE THE REST
BEFORE INDUSTRIAL GREED.
NO THOUGHTS OF BIG MOTOR WAYS
CUTTING THROUGH OUR HILLS.
NO SPREAD OF AIDS,NO SEX DISEASE
OR ANTI-BABY PILLS
NO RUNNING FOR ABORTION
NO RIPPING LIFE APART
OR NIPPING NATURE IN THE BUD
BEFORE A LIFE CAN START.
NO WAY,WERE WE A NUMBER
PRIOR TO COMPUTER AGE
BEFORE THE DAYS OF BLACK AND WHITE
ANTI-APARTHIED RAGE.
NO SEX ,NO DRUGS OR ROCK AND ROLL
NO QUEUING FOR THE DOLE
NO LIBERAL,LABOUR ,DEMOCRATS
NO VOTING AT THE POLL.
THE DAYS WHEN LIFE WAS SIMPLE
THE WORLD UNTOUCHED AND CLEAN
THE TIME BEFORE MAN CAME ALONG
WHEN THE WORLD WAS GREEN.

To The Makers Of Purex Toilet Tissue

Dear Customer service department.
I wish to discuss with you my recent purchase of a six-pack of your Purex "Strong on Softness Toilet Tissue"
I must at this point state to you,that I am a folder of loo paper,rather than a scruncher.So therfore can attest to the number of sheets required so as not to be polishing ones bum with ones hand.Which brings me to my first point.Whilst using a double fold(threfore 4 layers)I was very impressed with the softness of your paper--until I realised that the softness was due to the soap I use on my hands,rather than the softness of your product---straight through it no less--thanks. Points out of ten? strength zero--softness--zero.
Your product information tells us that it is bio-degradable.But at what point is it supposed to "bio-degrade ?" I thought maybe when it hit the water--but no,not your product,it starts to bio-degrade as soon as it comes into contact with an arse.I would like to point out to the normal user,that is too soon.
Whilst I do not expect to be able to wash,spindry and re-use your product.I do expect it to be able to carryout the very menial task of wiping my bum.without it needing to be the thickness of the Sydney Yellow Pages. Hoping you can Rectumfy the situation------yours Sincerely Tony Norman

AN ODE TO MALCOLM

My Dear Friend Malcolm in his early forties and having his first mid-life crisis has joined the Australian Army Reserves

MY ODE TO COPORAL MANNERING ABBOTT.

"Corporal Mannering Abbott ?"
"YES SIR,YES SIR,"
"Attention if you please,
stand up straight,adjust your dress,
stop shaking at the knees."
"YES SIR,YES SIR."

"You're a pretty boy,aren't you Abbott"
"YES SIR,YES SIR."
"Did you know,we're all a little gay,
how will you cope,if you drop the soap.
Abbott--what will you say?"
"YES SIR,YES SIR"

"Think you're tough,Do you Abbott?"
"YES SIR,YES SIR"
"Well,get your rifle when bugle toots
Cause you're the man for Afghanistan,
Osama's shaking in his boots."
"YES SIR, YES SIR"

"High up here,isn't it Abbott?"
"YES SIR,YES SIR"
"Have you ever jumped before?
just follow me ,go one two three,
then out the fu+kin door"
"YES SIR,YES SIR"

"Abbott?"
"YES SIR,YES SIR"
"Pull your cord,you're falling much too quick
Hey recruit,wheres your parachute?
You aint got one,have you prick?"
"NO SIR, S H I T SIR"

ODE -TO THE FOX

"NA NA-NA NA NA "
SAID THE FOX,TO THE BEAGLE CROWD.
"WE'LL GET YOU,YOU BASTARD!"
"AH AH--YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED.
AND THEM ON HORSES,WHO SIT UP THERE.
WHO THINK THEY'RE HIGHER CLASSES,
NO TALLY HO-OR OFF WE GO
GO SHOVE YOUR BUGLES UP YOUR ARSES.
CAUSE WE ARE FOXES,WILD AND FREE
BY A PARLIAMENTARY STROKE OF LUCK
WE HAVE NO FEAR,THANKS TONY BLAIR"
OOOPS--RUN OVER BY A TRUCK.

YOU SUB-HUMAN PIGS

HOW SAD IT IS .THE THE PEOPLE CHILDREN ARE TAUGHT TO TRUST,ARE VERY OFTEN THE ARSEHOLES THAT DO THE HARM IN THE FIRST PLACE-WE ENTRUST OUR CHILDREN TO MEN OF THE CLOTH.TEACHERS.SCOUT MASTERS AND EVEN THOSE THAT SIT IN JUDGEMENT ON OTHERS THAT DO CRIME,SEEM TO HAVE MORE THAN AVERAGE NUMBERS AMONG THEM THAT INTERFERE WITH CHILDREN--YOU PIGS.

YOU PIGS,
YOU DIRTY LOW LIFE PIGS.
SOME OF YOU IN GODLY GOWNS
AND SOME IN JUSTICE WIGS.
YOU HIDE BEHIND THESE CLOAKS OF HONOUR,
PUTTING FEAR INTO THE HEADS
OF ALL THESE POOR YOUNG CHILDREN
THAT YOU LURE INTO YOUR BEDS.

YOU USE THEM,YOU ABUSE THEM
YOU DIRTY SAD SICK SOD
WHATS MORE,THE NERVE TO TELL THEM
"YOUR DOING IT FOR GOD"
I HEARD YOU,I HEARD YOU TELL HIM
"DO YOU BELIEVE IN JESUS?
WELL COME HERE SON,DON'T TELL YOUR MUM
JUST DO AS FATHER PLEASES."

"DO YOU SWEAR ,TO TELL THE TRUTH ?" YOU ASK,
AS THEY STAND THERE IN YOUR COURT.
BUT YOU'RE THE ONE SHOULD BE ON TRIAL
ONE DAY,I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT.
CAUSE,YOU LIKE LITTLE BOYS I HEAR
AND THOUGH YOU'RE OLD AND FRAIL
YOU MAKE THEIR LIFE A LIVING HELL,THREATS LIKE
"I'LL PUT YOUR DAD IN JAIL"

NOW,THEIR LIVES ARE IN RUINS.
AND, I BEGRUDGE EACH BREATH YOU TAKE
YOU ROTTEN PIECES OF HUMAN TRASH
-- JUST DIE, FOR GOD-NESS SAKE

YOU'LL GET YOURS YA BASTARD

SOME OF THE CRIME WE SEE AND HERE OF THESE DAYS MAKE ME SICK.LITTLE OLD LADIES AND MEN LEFT BETTERED AND BRUISED BY THUGS A QUARTER OF THEIE AGE--WHAT A HERO THEY MUST THINK THEY ARE,OR HOW SADLY DESPERATE ARE THEY? BUT,IF THE DRUGS THEY FILL THEMSELVES WITH DON'T KILL THEM FIRST,THEY TOO WILL GET OLD ONE DAY.

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE,
AND I SAW WHAT YOU DID.
YOU BEAT UP THAT OLD BOY
FOR A FEW LOUSY QUID.

OH! YOU NEEDED IT FOR DRUGS YOU SAY
AND SOCIETY IS TO BLAME.
CAUSE WHEN YOU WENT TO SCHOOL I HEAR
THEY WOULDN'T LET YOU PLAY THE GAME.
YOUR MUM DIDN'T LOVE YOU
SUFFERED FATHERS ABUSES
IS THAT IT MATE?
ARE THEY YOUR EXCUSES?

YOU ROTTEN USELESS BASTARD
WE ALL KNOW RIGHT FROM WRONG.
BUT THE JUDGE,WELL HE WON'T LOCK YOU UP
WHERE WE ALL KNOW YOU BELONG.
HE'LL LISTEN TO YOU CRY AND WAIL
THEN HE'LL SLAP YOU ON THE WRISTS
AND YOU'LL BE ON YOUR WAY AGAIN
TO KISS OLD MEN WITH FISTS.

WELL,I'M REALLY SORRY MATE
THAT JUST WON'T WASH WITH ME.
CAUSE I'VE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE YOU KNOW
AND I'M SICK OF IT YOU SEE.
BUT,THERE IS ON SOLE REDEEMING FACT
ITS LIFE'S JUSTICE ,IN A WAY
YOU SEE, YOU USELESS PIECE OF HUMAN DIRT,
YOU'LL BE OLD ONE DAY----

AND I HOPE YOU GET YOURS. TONY NORMAN FEB 2005

THE STATE OF ANGER

DON'T YOU WONDER HOW COME SOME PEOPLE CAN GET UP IN THE MORNING GET THEIR FAMILY TOGETHER AND GO OFF TO THE BEACH FOR THE DAY,YET OTHERS CAN GET UP,PLAN AND SCHEME TO GO OUT AND KILL PEOPLE,OR CONVINCE THEIR CHILDREN TO STRAP BOMBS TO THEIR BODIES AND GO AND BLOW THEMSELVES UP IN A CROWD OF PEOPLE FOR THE REWARD OF SEVENTY VIRGINS IN HEAVEN.GIVE ME THE BEACH AND ONE GOOD OLD SLAPPER DOWN HERE ON EARTH-THAT'LL DO ME.

I'D LIKE TO BUILD A BASKET,
TO ENCOMPASS ANGER STATE,
AND KEEP ALL THE PEOPLE IN IT
WHO ONLY LIVE FOR HATE.

I'D LET THEM HAVE THEIR LITTLE WORLD
AND THEY STAY OUT OF MINE.
AND IF I NEVER HEARD "OSAMA " AGAIN
WELL THAT WOULD BE JUST FINE.
JUST LET THEM LIVE ,THE WAY THEY LIVE
SURE,THEIR INNOCENTS WILL DIE
BUT THEY DON'T WANT TO LIVE LIKE US
AND DON'T EVEN WANT TO TRY.

SO ,I CALL UPON THE FENCERS
AND THE WEAVERS OF THE LAND,
TO GATHER AROUND THE ANGER STATE
WITH MATERIALS AT HAND
AND FENCE AND WEAVE,AND FENCE AND WEAVE
TILL THEY'VE FENCED THE BUGGERS IN.
AND THEN PERHAPS THE REST OF US
CAN HAVE SOME PEACE BEGIN

ALLOW NO STAMPS OF VISA
FROM WITHIN THE ANGER STATE.
LET ALL THE SOLDIERS GO BACK HOME
AND LEAVE THEM TO THEIR FATE.
PUT AWAY THE WARSHIPS
AND THE BOMBERS IN THE HANGER.
THEN MARK IN BLACK,ON EVERY MAP
"NO ENTRY,STATE OF ANGER" TONY NORMAN FEB 2005

Mad Tone Aussie Bush Poet 

What Became Of Yesturday ?

Do you remember when you were a kid? do you /wasn't life better in those days.and then we went and stuffed it all by growing up.Not that I regret growing up.the alternative wasn't very attractive,but life was fun,when I was young.

What became of yesturday?
the days when life was fun
each day a new adventure
long ago,when I was young.
When the yard was Sherwood Forest
Dad's shed the Nottingham Castle
the girl nextdoor Maid Marion
Me ? Robin Hood the rascal
my brother was The Sheriff
and we,for the Maiden fought
but we would both try to lose,for
from the winner, a kiss she sought.
and mum would tuck us into bed
the day too short it seems
and night had come to quickly
twas now the time for dreams.
When we awoke next morning
the forest was no more
instead the Arizona desert
where were trees the day before.
And my brother the sheriff,was long gone
as he jumped out of bed
Whooping ,wailing and screeching
with feathers in his head.
Robin Hood looked in his mirror
and behind him saw with fright
and quickly grabbed his six gun
There were "Injuns" there to fight
and mum would tuck us in our bed
our guns still in our hands
for night had come too quickly
out in the desert sands
"Get Up, get up" said Mum
"Jill is here to play
Her Mum has gone into town
and she is here to stay"
"But what about the Injuns"
I said reaching for my gun
just like a silly sissie girl
to come and spoil our fun.
Dad shed todays a hospital
midst our grizzles and our curses
for the only game she knows to play
is Doctors,Babys and Nurses
"Come on Patients,into bed"
Oh this game the worst
"I'll show you mine,if you show me yours"
"No,you show me yours first"
and Mum would tuck us in our beds
and ,in my prayers I'm wishing
that my friend Jill,would be well soon
for part of her was missing
What did become of yesturday,
the days when life was fun.
a life full of adventure
long ago,when I was young .