GARDENS OF STONE

First of all,"Gardens Of Stone" is a title I cannot take credit for.It was something I heard that I liked.I googled it, and found various writings,movies and even a band with the same name.On April 25 1915 a great Australian and New Zealand tradition and legend was born--"The Anzacs" (Australian & New Zealand Army Corp)Together with troops from other nations they invaded Turkey at Gallipoli.An invasion which to this day is very controversial.Many thousands of Australian and New Zealand troops died.Many thousands more returned to Australia crippled.Two thousand Anzacs died on the beach the first day,after the battles, 8709 Anzacs lay in "The Gardens Of Stone" never to return to our wonderful land.

THE SANDS,HOLD THE BLOOD OF OUR BROTHERS.
IN THE HILLS LIE THE BONES OF OUR SONS.
DON'T YOU EVER FORGET THAT,THE SOULS OF THE ANZAC
ARE WATCHING AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE
THEY GAVE UP THEIR WIVES,SURRENDERED THEIR LIVES
AND NEVER RETURNED TO OUR SHORES.
SURROUNDED BY DEATH,MANY GAVE THEIR LAST BREATH
TO A WAR,SUPPOSED TO END WARS.

ON THAT FATEFULL MORN,THAT "THE DIGGER" WAS BORN,
THEY WERE BATTERED AND BLASTED TO HELL.
AS THEY JUMPED FROM THEIR BOATS,WITH LUMPS IN THEIR THROATS,
TO A STORM RAINING BULLET AND SHELL.
IN THE DITCHES THEY STAYED,NIGHT AFTER DAY,
TO THEIR ARSES WERE SUNK IN THE MIRE.
THE SICKENING STENCH OF THEIR LIFE IN THE TRENCH,
JUST A SHORT STEP FROM UNFRIENDLY FIRE.

SO NEAR DID THE ENEMY BATTLE,
THEY COULD HEAR THEM, SO CLOSE AT HAND.
BETWEEN ARMY'S ABODE,WHERE NOW IS A ROAD,
IN THOSE DAYS WAS CALLED "NO MANS LAND"
WITH VALOUR THEY FOUGHT,OUR CHILDREN.
FOR THEIR ORDERS THEY NEVER WOULD SHIRK.
THOUGH THEY KNEW NOT WHAT FOR,THIS WAS FOR SURE,
THEY FOUGHT WITH HONOUR ,BOTH ANZAC AND TURK.

SO TOLL THE BELLS,IN THE DARK DARDANELLES,
AND COME APRIL,WILL RING ONCE AGAIN.
AS WE SIT BY THE SHORES,AND WONDER ONCE MORE
WERE THOSE THAT SENT THEM INSANE.
THEY DON'T LIE THERE ALONE,IN THOSE GARDENS OF STONE,
BUILT IN MEMORY OF WHAT THEY HAVE DONE.
THEY WERE LIED TO FOR SURE,WE'VE HAD WAR AFTER WAR,
AND STILL THE FINAL BATTLES NOT WON.

DON'T YOU EVER FORGET THAT,THE SOULS OF THE ANZAC
ARE WATCHING ,AT WHAT WE HAVE DONE.
THE SANDS HOLD THE BLOOD OF OUR BROTHERS,
IN THE HILLS ARE THE BONES OF OUR SONS.

MY CANVAS OF" BEING"

Another one to think about,but at least in this one all get to keep their testicles,which is nice isn't it?A few weeks ago Julie and I went to a Garage Sale-not sure what my English readers call it,probably "a Garage Sale".It was a very sad garage sale-not the normal one where people are having a clear out--this was a deceased estate sale-in a very old run down house,which I should think will be knocked down when all is settled.Everything was for sale-and I mean everything,you could have ripped the doors off if you wanted them.Obviously by what was lying around a little old lady had lived there and had just passed away.
Her books were there,a few pieces of old crockery--a spoon collection,old photos,and everything was going very cheap.She had a few old chickens in a cage,an old Galah (Australian parrot)and other birds-all for sale.I walked around that place with a lump in my throat--everything that woman had loved--was being ripped apart like she had never been-----thoughts turned to what she might be thinking could she see us picking through her bones of life,her Canvas Of "Being".

MY HOUSE ON THE HILL IS STILL STANDING,
SHUTTERS CREEK,AND SO DOES THE FLOOR.
ITS EMPTY OF ALL THAT I STOOD FOR
AND,ITS JUST NOT MY HOME ANYMORE.

THEY'VE PICKED THROUGH THE BONES OF MY LIFETIME
AS IT SAT THERE IN PILES ON THE FLOOR.
MY LIFETIMES COLLECTION,MY MEMORIES,
FOR A PRICE, HAVE BEEN TAKEN WHAT'S MORE.

THE THINGS THAT I MADE,WHICH ONCE WERE MY LIFE
LAY OPEN TO ALL FOR THE SEEING.
THE THINGS THAT I TREASURED,THE THINGS THAT WERE ME
THAT PAINTED MY CANVAS OF "BEING".

THE MUSIC I'VE CHERISHED AND BOOKS THAT I'VE READ,
THE PANS FROM MY KITCHEN AND SHEETS FROM MY BED.
ALL WERE FOR SALE,EVERY TOOL, STOOL AND KNIFE
AS THEY CHIP,CHIPPED AWAY ONCE AGAIN AT MY LIFE.

ALL THE PLANTS AND POTS FROM MY GARDEN
"TAKE FOR FREE IF YOU WISH"THE SIGN SAID,
"MAKE OFFERS FOR ALL THAT YOU SEE" SAID THE NEXT.
"AND YOU'LL FIND PLENTY MORE IN THE SHED".

THE OLD BIRD IN THE CAGE SAID "HELLO COCKY"
HE'D BEEN WITH ME SINCE NOT VERY OLD.
ANOTHER SIGN SAID,JUST OVER HIS HEAD,
"THIS BIRDS NOT FOR SALE,HE'S BEEN SOLD".

BUT MY HOUSE ON THE HILL IS STILL STANDING,
THOUGH ITS JUST NOT MY HOME ANYMORE.
NO LONGER MY CANVAS OF "BEING"
NOW MY SPIRIT HAS PASSED-----I'M NO MORE.

"ANNABELLA"

I'd just like to say from the start,I have no desire to have my testicles removed,and never have had.When I write I tend to write about things I know nothing about.It either works or it doesn't.I was talking to someone the other day,and they were telling me they had been having a chat with a bloke waiting to have a sex change operation.I remeber long ago around 1974 having a chat to such a person in an old boarding house I lived in--and what a tragic case he or she was.I was also talking to another friend who told me of a bloke that was married,had children,but even after all that time-left his wife and children to have such an operation and move on as a woman.
I have no problem with gay people,in the past I have been friends with gay people,and until they make it compulsory have no problem them living their lives the way they see fit.I do have a problem with faggy queenie type mincers-I think they give the gay fraternity a bad name--they are fashion queers and I can't stand them(but I have no wish to bash them)
But for those poor souls trapped in a body they don't belong in I really feel for.I can't imagine how it must be to be a woman trapped in a mans body,or a man trapped in a womans body.It would be a living hell.As it was for Annabella.


ANNABELLA,CAN'T COME OUT TODAY.
FOR NOW SHE'S LOCKED INSIDE.
SHE'D JUST LOVE,TO COME OUT AND PLAY
BUT FOR DADDY'S SAKE,SHE'LL HIDE.
DADDY DOESN'T UNDERSTAND
AND MUMMY STRUGGLES TOO.
SO ANNABELLE'S KEPT SHUT AWAY.
SEEN ONLY,BY A FEW.

ANDREW,HE'LL COME OUT TODAY,
AND THOUGH HE'S TRIED AND TRIED,
SO MANY THINGS HE WANTS TO SAY
BUT HE CAN'T BREAK DADDY'S PRIDE.
CAN'T KICK A BALL,OR HOLD A BAT,
CAN'T WRESTLE,BOX OR FIGHT.
HE MUCH PREFERS THE GENTLE THINGS.
BUT HE TRIES,WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.

ONE DAY SOON,HE'LL HAVE TO SHOW,
AND LIVE ANNABELLA'S LIFE.
HE'LL NEVER BE A FATHER,
COULD NEVER TAKE A WIFE.
"LET ME OUT,LET ME OUT"
HE HEARS ANNABELLA SCREAMING.
NO REST FOR HEAD AS HE LAYS IN BED.
NO SOLACE IN HIS DREAMING.

ANNABELLA'S COMING OUT TODAY,
ITS TIME TO KISS AND TELL.
AND THOSE WHO CAN'T ACCEPT HER?
THEY ALL,CAN GO TO HELL.
"I'VE BEEN TRAPPED INSIDE FOR LONG ENOUGH,
NOW ITS TIME TO SET ME FREE.
GOODBYE ANDREW,I'M ANNABELLE,
YES MUMMY,DAD,ITS ME.

BUT,SOCIETY JUDGES HARSHLY.
HOW HURTFULL,AND CRUEL THEY SPEAK.
ITS HARD TO BE ACCEPTED,
"YOU'RE A WIERDO,YOU'RE A FREAK".
BUT WHY? WHY CAN'T THEY UNDERSTAND?
PLEASE HELP ME,IF YOU CAN.
I'M JUST ANOTHER WOMAN,
IN THE BODY OF A MAN.

METAMORPHOSIS

Ben,my thirteen year old son,has just spent the last week or so with me.I only see him a couple of times a year.I speak to him at least once a week on the phone--and have noticed over the past few months he's growing up.But it was only the other day,when his Mum rang me and suggested that I take him to see a girl,much the same age,that he has played with all his life. Well you'd think he'd been asked to do the washing up.Ben seems to be at that age where he doesn't know what to do with them,so better off do nothing--stay away from them for a while.Well Ben got out of that visit, and he helped me write this song about the event of me asking him to go and visit a 13 year old female friend of his :

METAMORPHOSIS

WELL ITS "YO BRO" SOUL AND ROCK'N'ROLL
NO MORE HAPPY MEALS FOR TEA.
GIVE ME HORROR FLICKS,MTV CHICS
AND GETTING UP LATE FOR ME.
A ROD,A BAT AND CRICKET BALL
A SKATEBOARD OR A BIKE
DROPPING FARTS AND RACING CARTS
BUT GIRLS CAN TAKE A HIKE.

CAUSE I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS
AND SHE'S TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING.
THAT'LL KEEP FOR LATER ON,
BUT TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM,NOT A BOY
NOT A MAN,BUT SOMETHING IN BETWEEN.
GETTING HAIR NEATH ME BELLY,
HATE THE SHOWER BETTER SMELLY
AND TILL LUNCHTIME RARELY SEEN.
NO LONGER THE VOICE OF A CHOIR BOY
BUT THAT OF A DYING DOG.
I USED TO SING LIKE AND ANGEL
NOW I CROAK LIKE A BLOODY FROG.

YES,I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS
SHE'S SURE TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING
THAT'LL KEEP FOR LATER ON
BUT TILL THEN I'M GOING FISHING.

YES ITS "YO BRO" SOUL AND ROCK'N'ROLL
NO MORE HAPPY MEALS FOR TEA.
GIVE ME HORROR FLICKS MTV CHICS
AND SLEEPING LATE FOR ME.
CAUSE I'M TOO OLD FOR PLAYING DOLLS,
AND SHE'S TOO YOUNG FOR KISSING
WE MIGHT GET IT ON,MUCH LATER ON,
TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING,

TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING

TILL THEN I'M GOING MISSING