WHERE I’M FROM
I’m from peeling sunburned skin, summer hail and storms, where kookaburra’s munch on snakes, and cute little koalas make devilish sounds at night and squirt pee from the sky.
I’m from shrimp on the barbie, vegemite on toast, lamingtons oozing chocolate and coconut, and something I’ve never fancied to eat, called steak and kidney pie.
I’m from pungent eucalyptus gums, golden wattles in bloom, where many a poisonous spider live, and flying foxes swing upside down from trees.
I’m from infinite white sand that squeaks between your toes, and magical waves that sparkle like emeralds at night when your feet swish to and fro.
I’m from trips to Nanna’s where sand flies bite and mosquitoes swarm, where Pop and his spittle crusted pipe took us fishing in a put-put dinghy, and I brought my prize catch home.
I’m from the same home as my snoring little sister whose bed I would shake, a brother who enjoyed killing cane toads, and another who farted into jars then shoved under my nose.
I’m from hand-knitted sweaters and pretty summer dresses that my mother would make, but I always picked out the wool, and the fabric, the design too I would choose.
I’m from a primary school uniform made of checkered white and blue, and high school eyes that shed tears during morning parade from a sea of white blouses and the glare they made.
I’m from where we don’t sing I’m dreaming of a white Christmas on Christmas Day, we just curl up under trees from the sweltering heat and a belly full of lunch that I used to called dinner.
I’m from a Dad who’d yell, “Cut it out you bloody brats,” when us four kids would fight, the same man would lovingly tuck me in to bed and give me a kiss goodnight.
I’m from the tube of condensed milk squeezed empty into my mouth, and a Mum who roasted the most wonderful meals, but thanks to me, could no longer bake her sickly delights.
I’m from red hair and freckles, rebellion and fights, to love and appreciation for everything in my life.
I’m from the land down under, an Aussie true and blue.
I’m from Australia, fair dinkum mate.
MY LIFE AS A FEATHER
Delicate, soft and fluffy,
So tender to touch.
Oh adorable little feather I was once like you.
You cry in the rain,
Skip merrily in the breeze.
Oh cute little feather I was once like you.
You struggle for independence
While clinging to your roots.
Oh silly little feather I was once like you.
You fly high, floating, gliding,
Soaring free as one of the flock.
Oh darling little feather I was once like you.
Proud to be soft and no longer fluffy
You dream of what could be.
You cry, “I don’t want to be no feather in a duster,
Nor lining of a quilt.”
You blow away to find the life you are meant.
Oh adventurous little feather I was once like you.
Years go by. You wonder where they went.
Mortified, you wake up in a down filled pillow,
Stifled, cloistered, endlessly molded
And pounded into place.
Oh poor little feather I was once like you.
Now velvet in touch, you shine in the sun.
You are a quill, a whisperer to paper
Of stories as they are dreamt.
Oh gorgeous little feather I am now like you.
NATURE’S SYMPHONY
Nature is a symphony of delicate harmonies.
Eternity’s harp is both lyrical and soothing.
While man strums on his guitar as he pleases.
Tar-stained lungs spit up blood from disease.
Earth’s lungs too must surely be scarring.
Nature is a symphony of delicate harmonies.
Forests are plundered—animals lose their homes.
Elephants perish like virgins raped and dying.
While man strums on his guitar as he pleases.
Green pastures turn to dust, and glaciers unfreeze.
Earth is having a tantrum. Isn’t anybody hearing?
Nature is a symphony of delicate harmonies.
Species vanish from the earth and the seas.
Corporations ignore facts to keep the money rolling.
While man strums on his guitar as he pleases.
We must pay heed to Earth’s emphatic pleas.
Progress is mankind’s downward tumbling.
Nature is a symphony of delicate harmonies.
While man strums on his guitar as he pleases.
BLIND FAITH
I was strolling along a daisy-lined path with no place or time to be,
When a dark-skinned woman appeared and asked me to follow.
She shared tales of glorious vistas and made it sound so tempting,
I placed my hand into hers, believing she knew the way.
I saw fields of wildflowers and felt smitten with God’s grace.
Then the grass turned from green to brown and the landscape went bare.
The worst was yet to come I did not see it coming.
Around the following bend, my life plunged from spring into winter.
Years upon years, I then did spend in the deepest frost,
No ordinary man would consider. Alone in the company of many,
Fools most of us were, shivering, teeth chattering,
Toes buried in snow, so numb we thought we were warm.
From winter, it transitioned to summer. At first, the sun felt nice.
But there was not a tree to grant the slightest reprieve, let alone a drop of water.
I am thirsty, oh so thirsty I cried out to myself.
I am tired, oh so tired my limbs dragged from morning until night.
I finally began screaming, aren’t there four seasons to this thing called life?
From the depths of despair, I exploded like lightning.
Powerful, thunderous and charged with life, I let out a mighty roar.
I burst into spring, amid fields of gay flowers and seedlings galore.
Birds began to sing as sun-showers sprinkled the breeze.
Rainbows stretched their arms and lovingly embraced the sky.
Never again will I deny myself the beauty of autumn and spring.
Nor will I blindly follow someone who touts they know better.
Beliefs are only good, when they serve equally one another.
Summer, autumn, winter, spring let us join our hands together,
Raise our faces to the sky and rejoice for life forever and ever.
A COCKROACH AND THE MAN WITH A FROWN
It’s another miserable day outside,
The sky is gloomy and gray.
The forecast says it will likely pour,
Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle,
What else to expect from the sky.
“Good morning, Bill,” my neighbor chirps.
I wave and mumble to myself,
“Just go back to your darling wife and leave me the hell alone.”
What’s so good about a morning like this?
Can’t the fool see it is raining like piss?
I grab the newspaper off the lawn.
The soggy grass that has once again
Been pooped upon by some stranger’s dog.
Why can’t the thing poop somewhere else,
Like on the doorstep of my neighbor’s house?
I go inside to read the paper
But first have a cup of brew.
God damn it. I’m out of coffee. What else is new?
I open the front page to read the headlines,
Doom, gloom, gloom, ain’t nothin’ but doom and gloom.
“Good morning, Bill,” the chirpy pest
Tap dances inside my head.
The kettle boils, I rise from my chair,
Shove my hand in a teabag box
And grab a cockroach instead.
Doom and gloom in the news,
Gray clouds loom in the sky,
Dog shit on the soggy lawn,
And a filthy cockroach
Goes splat under the paper
That lies on the lawn
Where the dog pooped
And my pesky neighbor
Standing in the rain chirped,
“Good morning, Bill.”
SIDE EFFECTS
Can I borrow your ears for a moment?
A news flash I will tell.
There’s a new drug on the market
The FDA calls it swell.
Daily pop a pill in your gob and
High glucose will be history.
How these drugs are even for sale
Remains quite a mystery.
When they rattled off the precautions
My jaw fell to the floor.
Who on earth would take such a pill
With side effects galore.
Your face and lips and tongue might swell
And cause you quite a fright.
Your private parts might sting and burn
And have you up peeing all night.
Now don’t forget confusion and rashes on the skin.
You might become bitchy,
Contract liver or kidney disease,
And forget what happiness is.
The add showed smiling faces
And women strolling by the sea.
They make it sound like this little pill
Will cure you instantly.
People, I hope you heed the warnings
For every FDA pill.
If your disease doesn’t actually kill you
The drug quite likely will.
LADY OF THE NIGHT
She leans on a streetlamp
That casts a misty glow.
The night is almost still.
Shivering all alone, with
Her bare legs on show.
Choice is but a dream.
Wheels slurp and spit
In the filthy snow.
A foggy car pulls up.
She hastily jumps inside,
And takes it nice and slow.
Anything to escape the cold.
She grapples with self worth
For her child that needs to grow.
She leans on a streetlamp…
ANGER
You’re an ugly old man,
Or so legend has it—
A hideous decrepit leper
Exiled to the edge of town.
“Stay away from that disgusting creature,”
Mothers spank and wag their fingers.
Grown-ups avoid you altogether
Afraid they will catch the disease.
At night you lurk in the shadows
Casting spells and causing harm.
Is it any wonder you have few friends
And are looked upon as foe?
In the daylight one can see beyond
Your rotting flesh and decaying knuckles.
You are a noble man, with kind heart
And make a wonderful friend.
Few realize the stench that reeks
Comes not from your puss-filled wounds
But rises from the pores of mankind,
from a disease called fear.
IS IT MY HAIRY LEGS?
I sat beside a little girl one day and she ran
Away in fright. No clue why I scared her so,
Maybe she thought I’d steal her food.
I eat bugs and insects, sometimes my mate,
Not whatever that goop was sitting in her plate.
Maybe she didn’t like my hairy legs,
The four on either side.
Can’t imagine why that should cause such fright.
Everyone in my family has hairy legs
And we all get along.
Maybe her mummy and daddy warned her
To stay away from creatures like me.
I am not a lowly creepy, crawly critter,
I have a job on this planet
And breathe the same air they do.
I began to wonder if my color made her flee.
But that doesn’t make any sense,
Because I heard about a lady on a bus
Who did the same thing and she is a hero today.
Beats me why that little girl took off,
There was plenty of room on her seat.
From what I hear at the web by the vine,
These humans are a peculiar breed.
We kill when we are hungry,
We kill merely for food.
Humans kill for silly things
Like religion, race, and greed.
Another possibility just crossed my mind,
Although she seems too young for this.
I hear that nowadays
Two women can walk down the aisle.
I no longer try to understand
Why I scared her so.
The only question that remains
Is why can’t humans co-exist?
BEYOND THE MOCK ORANGE FENCE
I awake in the middle of the night, yet again,
To the sound of my neighbors brawling.
Fists pounding flesh, sometimes walls,
Hurling words that could claw your eyes out.
My heart leaps from my chest, and tumbles down a cliff.
Rocks pound and gnaw, until I lie in a heap at the bottom.
I am nowhere near these disturbed human beings,
Yet I tremble and feel violated.
Aggressive voices claw through the mock orange fence.
Blood oozes from irate eyes as they trespass into my space.
I lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering how long the
Screaming will last, and whether I should find a new dwelling.
My eyes open. It is morning once again.
Life seems back to normal beyond the mock orange fence.
I can hear children laughing, and someone talking on the phone.
Memories flood of the night before. My heart picks up speed.
Although I slept, I do not feel rested.
I imagine how things could be different,
Were she a wife tapped into her power.
To her abusive husband she might calmly utter,
“I don’t need you to love me, but love me all you will.
The only thing I truly need is for you to fuck off out of my life.”
DIAMONDS IN THE SKY
The sky is black as night.
Clusters of diamonds are glowing.
As they have done
Since the world began.
A diamond is now falling
Brilliantly from the sky.
Leaving a shimmery trail,
Of evidence it is dying.
It scatters upon the earth
And becomes the salty tears
Of an infant who is crying.
She hugs a teddy bear tight,
While her mummy sings a song.
Her eyes are now sparkling,
Like diamonds in the sky.