| Silence echo still Fat f#$% ffffffffffffffffaaaatttttttttttttttttt fff#$% faT- f#$%- Fat fat- fat- fat- f#$% fffff#$% fat f#$% fat fat fatfatfatfatfatfat ffffu - f#$% - f#$% k k This is the town of fluffy dice. The ’rana’s rear window is where the action is. When you hit the Henry Street bridge your fate is bounced around in air thick from Winfield smoke. A pair of sixes swings to face the cops’ Commodore. Just keep your eyes on Saint Christopher when the siren goes. Don’t let the doppler lights distract you from your aim. At seventy-seven Slipshod Boulevard, striped umbrellas in a swirly Van Gogh light arranged askew against the noon blue, Inspector Venison Stag known as Stu waits She sidles into view along the curly lane, stilettos clicking on paving stones, suspect number one, the quarry, or so he would suppose. Inspector Stag known as Stu blows his nose a touch of flu and wonders Fat lady. She is a poem in blue her hips' swing sings her rhythms. He sighs and thinks about her thighs And sneezes. Water cool clean water, flowing through the forests, muddy brown water, flowing down mountain sides, into clean glasses and bodies healthy bodies turning into polluted people TREES 4 US TREES FOR PROFIT A world without trees Just imagine a global car park No trees,no shelter, no life Silicon begat life in the Achaean Clay wrapped in organic shell The butterfly is emerging Sending carbon to hell The glory of silicon towers Empowered by silicon thought Powered by virtual money Is beauty unbegot Essential Services In Launceston are different to Essential Services elsewhere In Tasmania. Launceston,the city with little concern for the poor and the environment. Invisible Recycling Services Welfare Services Somebody else's job Launceston does not want to know The People want recycling services The People need access to welfare The Federal and State Governments say it is a local government job Local Government in Launceston say it is a Federal or State Job. The People want services. The People want kerbside recycling The People will get better services But When??? Baaaa BAR b-b-BAHHHHH bomb bomb BAAAH Boooooo Booooo Bahhhh BOMB-BOMB-BOMB BARR BARR BOPP Borrr Borr ssshhhhhhh ssshhhhhhhHH DDDZZZZZ DDzzzz DDZZ Bup Bup-Bup Bup-BOMB ssssssttttt sssssstt BAn BAn BBaaaannnng BOMB Bang BOMB Bomb BOMB B-b-b-bomB BOMb BaaaanGG BOMB ssshhhhhhh BUNG sssstttt TTTssssttt BaN BaN Boooom Booommm Ban Ban Ban sssssssshhhhhh ssshhhhhhh ssssshhhhh SSSSShhhh Bangggggggggggggggg-BomB Random bit of Y cacttctagtagtttcttggtggagtctttaggtttttccaagtatgaga tcatactatctgcaaataagaacaatttgaattatttatttttaatttga aagccatttattcctatctcttgtttgttggctctaggtaatacttccag tgctacgtggaagaacagtggtgaaggtgggcattcttttcatgtttcag atcttaaaggaaagctttcagttttttcccattcagtatgataatagctg tgggtctgtcatatatggcttttattaggttgaggtatattatctctgtg tccactgttttcagggttttattatgaagggatatttaatgttatcaaat gccttttcagcatcaattgaaatgttcatataacttttgtgcttcatttt gatgatgatttatcacattgatttgtgcatgttgaaccatccttgcatcg cagtgacaaatcccactagggtatgatgaatgatcttttaaatatattgt tgaattatatttgctactattttcttgaggatttttgcatcaatattcgt cagggatatttgtctgtagttttattttgtggacgtgtctttggtttttg tattagggtaatactagcctcataaaaggaggttggaagtattttctccc cctctaactttcaaaattacttgaatatgattggtattacatcttcatta aatgtttggtggaattctgcagtgaagctatcatgtcctgggtttttctt tactgggataatttttattatggctctgatgtcattacttcttattggaa aattcaggttttggatgtcttcatggttaattattggtagattgtatgtg tctaggaatttttccacatgtggggagtactgccagactacctccgatgt tcccttatggcccaaaggctcttcaatcagcttgtggtaaatgctgcctc acttggactccccctttagggcagtaggttctcctctcacaaagagctgg tctagtaatgtcttccaagagcccagtcctagaactgaggactccaatag cccacttgatcctctacccttctgtgtttaagctgatatctaaagtgcaa Romance in Launceston is generally found against the stink of the river and under the cracked pavement of the alleyways beauty to the shadows lurking anti-matter snails radiate grass sings clouds make split rotations -nothing can spoil a perfect day not even the rude shoe shop saleswomen who hang in packs in the mall and steal old ladies' handbags The Japanese maples cover Norwood with an axminster of rotting stuff that used to be leaves. The silver birches do their bit, too, like some outdoor cork tiling waiting for the maid, whose name is June, to polish underfoot. They say there's this place up there in York Street! Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? Yep right up there at the top of York Street! You'd never know! You'd never know! You'd never know! They say they go UP there to York Street! Why so? Why so? Why so? To do business up there in York Street! Just so! Just so! Just so! Yes all kinds of business goes down up there in York Street! I didn't know! I didn't know! I didn't know! Strange things happen up there in York Street! Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? Curious things go on up there in York Street! Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? They say that this place up there in York Street Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? It's just the place to go this place up there in York Street! Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? Fun and games go on up there up in York Street! I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! 'He' meets 'her' up in there York Street! Really so? Really so? Really so? Yes they do it a lot up there in York Street! How so? How so? How so? But maybe its 'her' that meets 'him' up in there York Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! Whatever do they do up in York Street I don't know!! I don't know!! I don't know!! It brings no glory to York Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! They say they have fun up there in York Street! How so? How so? How so? They say favors are exchanged up there in York Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! They say deals are done up there in York Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! They say you can really do things up there in York Street! I don't know!! I don't know!! I don't know!! Well it's like this up there in York Street! How do you know? How do you know? How do you know? Big deals go down up there in York Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! 'He' goes up there to York Street! Is that so? Is that so? Is that so? He takes her up there to York Street! I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! Who owns this place up in York Street? You don't know? You don't know? You don't know? They say he owns that place up in York Street! Really so! Really so! Really so! Who else goes up to there to York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! Do you think he goes up to that place in York Street? I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! Do they talk politics up there in York Street! I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! Do they cut deals up there in York Street? I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! I wouldn't know! What business goes down up there in York Street? You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! Do they smile much up there in York Street? I guess they do! I guess they do! I guess they do! What do they DO up there in York Street? You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! They say 'he' owns this place up there in York Street! I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! It's a room or a house up there in York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! You can bet it’s a room up there in York Street! Why so? Why so? Why so? If it was a house up there in York Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! Who else goes up to this place in York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! They say quite a few go up to this place in York Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! What is it that they do up there in York Street? You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! You wouldn't know! What debts do they fall into up there in York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! Who does what to whom up there in York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! Now 'he' went a lot up there to York Street! How'd you know? How'd you know? How'd you know? What do you reckon he did up there in York Street? Oh yes I know! Oh yes I know! Oh yes I know! They say they smile a lot when they back from up there in York Street Oh yes I know! Oh yes I know! Oh yes I know! Really, what is that they do up there I York Street? You couldn't know! You couldn't know! You couldn't know! When do they go up there to York Street? I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! They say it's lunch they go for to York Street! I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! Did he ever take 'her' up to York Street? I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! Why would he take her up to York Street? You'd never know! You'd never know! You'd never know! It’s a silly place this bloody York Street! I guess so! I guess so! I guess so! What the hell goes on up there in York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Is it anything like what goes on in Wall Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Just who is it who goes up there to York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Does he take her up there to York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Or does she take him up to York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Can you make money up there in York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Who screws who up there in York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Just why do they go up to York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! What's going on up there in York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! Who knows what's going on in York Street? I want to know! I want to know! I want to know! What the hell is it all about up there in York Street? I must know! I must know! I must know! Well they say it starts out in St John Street! Why so? Why so? Why so? It's all so cosy down in St John Street! Why so? Why so? Why so? They do deals down there in St John Street! How'd you know? How'd you know? How'd you know? They say that they meet up in St John Street! How so? How so? How so? There's all this stuff going down in St John Street! Maybe so! Maybe so! Maybe so! They cut all their deals down there in St John Street! Really so! Really so! Really so! He met him in St John Street! How'd know? How'd know? How'd know? He does his thing in St John Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! She met him in St John Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! She does her thing in York Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! They had a fling in York Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! But it's really all about St John Street Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! But they made sweet music up there in York Street! Yes I know! Yes I know! Yes I know! She bent over backwards up there in York Street! I must go! I must go! I must go! i live in hagley it's a hole i wish i lived in york street that’s where i'd get busy come on babay i'm ready i'm ready but i'm not into stuff like that i might buy a big brown cat A country bike ride we did take For a place of beauty we decided to make Aghast, we spied upon the path The McDonalds junk meal aftermath. He said I love you She said I know He said I want you She said I know He said I need you She said I know He said I must have you She said I know He said how about it Then she said no Bullying in the schools Bullying in the workplace Bullying in the meeting room Why!!!!! Do they need to be dominant????? Are the bullies so lacking in self worth Do the bullies think they will be better What if the bullied cowers and falls? Does this make the bullied weaker? Should the bullied fight back so they can be strong? Maybe the bullied are the strong and powerful The bullied threaten the bullies with their strength. I've moved out, an obsessed seer, haunting the dark ether, most courageous at night; musing on evil, I have done my swoop over those ordinary places, flicker to flicker: forsaken thing, deformed, out of sight, out of mind. A presence like that is no woman, just so. I've seen her before. I have found her tender coven in the forest, I filled it with pans, images, racks, parcels, treasure, countless chattels; fixed lunch for the maggots and the pixies: nervously, rearranging the disarranged. A presence like that may never be understood. I've seen her before. I have taken on your chariot, outrider, I lifted my arms upwards at trees going by, accepting the final glistening direction, resister where your passion still draws me nigh and my bones break where you spin by. A presence like that is never unwilling to die. I've seen her before. :-)))))))))) :-))))))))) :-)))))))))))))) :--((( :--||||||||||| :-////////////// :-\\\\\\\\par:--[[[[[[ : -----(( : -]]]]]]]]]] :-]] :-)))))))))))) :-{{{{{{{{{{ :----[[[ ______ Her hands went a wandering, a wandering …… : -))))) And she touched him just SO just SO ……. : - ))))))))))))))))))) Then HIS hands went wandering a wandering … : -o)))))))))))) And he touched her like so, like so ……. : -0}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}} But her fingers went on a walking------- : - )))))) And she found him just so, just so ----- : --))))))))))))))))))))) Now he touched her more firmly ……. : -o)))) )) ) ))))))))))) And in ways you just couldn't know --- : - o((((((((((( Politely she asked him to stop it !!!! ~~~~~ :- ))))))))))))))) But still his fingers went on walking albeit with nowhere to go __ : - ))))) Then she cried just stop it, please stop it !!!!! ------- : -0|||||||||| Now I just don't want you - just go - just go!! ____ :-////////////////// Yet he persisted - you know, you know ….. : -]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] But again she called out - stop it - just stop it !!!!! __ : >\\\\\\\\parAnd he still wouldn't go ___ : -[[[[[[[[[[[ AGAIN she screeched out just stop IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! : - \\\\\\\\\\\\ And then he gave her a blow ….. : -////////////// Then she slapped him in anger !!!!!! …. : - \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\parHe just bloody well punched her and punched her <<<< : - ////////// Wouldn't you know - wouldn't you knowww !!!!! : - }}}}}}}}}}}}}}} Her nose was now bloody well bleeding (:)<(((((((((((((((( Now one eye was all black and the other one red and quite blue :- ((((((((( And still he just stood there as if he had nowhere to go :-- [[[[[[[[[[[ So she stood up there and she faced him ~~~~~ : - {{{{{{{ And STILLLLL he didn't know how to go ------- :- [[[[[[[[[[[ Then she smiled at him very meekly ----- : -)))) And she beeggggged him, please go!! pleeeeaaaase go!! ---- :- /////////////////////// With his hands on hips he stood there ------- :-|||||||||||||| Please God make him go!! make him go!!!!!! ---- :- (((((((((( With furrowed brow she beseeched him please go!! please go!! --- :- (((((((( He drew himself up, and clearly, he really had no mind to go : - ||||||||| Crying, she just asked him and asked him - just go justtttTT Goooo :-O((((((((((( Smiling slyly he bloody well told her, No! Bloody ! NOOO! Bloody NO! ... :- ) Spreading his legs he just stood there … :-))) And sadly she had nowhere to go ------- :-//////////// He just stood there and stood there and stood there _____ : --||||||||||| With the door right there behind him you know you know ….. : -/////////////////////// And she reeeaaalllly had nowhere to go ….. :-\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Arms stretched out there before her ------ :- (((((((((( Again she asked him to go, pleeeease go, pleeeease go … :- 0((((( Defiantly he stood there before her …… :-||||||||||||| And stilllll she begggged him to go ------- :- 0(((((( Then suddenly she walked up there towards him ____ :-||||||| And he stood there before her - just so, just so ---- :-||||||||||||||||| Closer she move up towards him - just so, just so : -\\\\\\\\\\ Her feet moved left and right there before him :- /////////////// Heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe ~~~~~~~ :--|||||||||||||| With hands on her hips she stood there before him :-//// Where to go? Where to GO? Where to GOOOO? __ :--(((((((((((((((((((((( One day her dad had said how to sort him : -))))))))))) You know, you know, yes I know !!!!!___ :-- )))))))))) Now with one quick kick she just saw him - you know, you know :-]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] Now they're trying to restore him, you know !!! you know !!! : -((((((((((( Now his life's laid out there before him, you know !! you know!! … : -((((((((((( He's nothing like he was before she saw him, you know , you know … : -|||||| That's so!! That's so!! I knowww!! … :-)))))))))))))))))))))) silence to the world lest the magic be forgotten There's no way to predict that black cloud or the when the wind will blow it across the moon to casts its shadow over your feet having already sent a shudder down some far-off spine. And how can I forget? I ponder what must have brought it here, now and I search my consciousness for a glimmer, just something buried back there, and something to grant reason to mystery, and I cry deeply knowing that I may be deserted, hopeful that bliss may yet be saved in its most aromatic form, for us alone. No, bliss is you the one who flies in through the clouds into that melee, tall, striding elegantly past the crowd, you who stroll quietly up to the exit until you find that one who will let you pass because you're you, and as you so often do, just hours before we part again. It comes to destitute men in their doorways in flashes of soberness, It comes to that woman standing alone with her redundancy slip in her hand, to that child whose mother has given way to despair It comes to jilted lovers, to dogs reproached for a transgression, to the driver with nowhere to go, and to that girl who turns down that alleyway on the blackest of nights. Even the shingles rattling in the cove below the cliff seem to smell of it, its stench fills the forest as the mist consumes it, and the wineglass lying on its side, with its bloodlike elixir seeping into whiteness, fills the air with its menace. love flies like sands through the hourglass these are the days of our love On the corner of Brisbane and Bathurst these trucks roar through the lights Non-stop, night and day, morning and evening, on and on Sometimes they stop there rumbling away, hissing and burbling Waiting for the green, they wait, they rev and grind away They just sit there with their loads all exposed, stripped naked, split, shattered, twisted Yet another load dead trees from who knows where Yet more trees that once stood in a quiet valley somewhere Yet more trees that birds once sang in Yet more trees that possums used to climb Yet more trees that were once home to a million things Yet more trees that were once majestic Trees all dead, all laid out Shadows of what they once were Trees that people once argued about Trees people once cared about and still do Trees that have been wasted like the land Land that has been wasted because they lust for its trees And with the green the roar goes up again as it did yesterday The day before, the day before that and for so long back Almost like clockwork most times these lights change There on the corner of Brisbane and Bathurst Their engines roar, their brakes hiss And Yet another load heads down along a road Off to elsewhere so stories can be written all over it Or to be so much tissue At Murphy's a dragon we found with jaws agape, freed in the cause of primal defence. Truth its name and raging its heat, not the time to stand and reason. Hell is the place of its righteous rage, Afghani plains or Arthurian eyrie. So bold and so sure this shining beast , before which we all shrivel. With singed beards and smoking jackets, a few laughs and a tear or so. A glass of wine and a Guinness or two consigned it back to its epistemological cage. from afar the ancient cries of the swollen one did rise. the man walked across the mobile phone whispering to the people who never listened. old man carbuncular laid out like a patient etherized upon a table. Spent. Achtung! I come from England. Twenty3 flying hours is how far I've come. I jump to the end of poem and back again. Navigating the world with a one armed haver-sack. apro po no fun sonnet under the thumb retentive behaviour reliving summer's stale crust apologetica nervosa intercontinental ballistic missile, salacious, subversive, rampant! meesrn gee This Is My Song. Mt.Arthur Free - a catchy cry - Where are they all, are they about - No one on line, oh my, oh my, Perhaps they really drowned in Irish stout? Mt.Arthur Yahoo also clicks, With audits and environment, Election wise and politics - A stepping stone to Parliament? Mt.Arthur has been good for us, Towards the peak, it did get tough - A lot of noise, a lot of fuss, The closing comments spoke of love? Nine cooks are cooking up a soup, They do mean well, don't get me wrong, A lovely feast for all the group, A fitting end to this, my song! I chase the bright elusive butterfly of metaphor. I chase the dull allusive moth of syntax. I chase the dappled illusive dragonfly of beauty. Bobby Lind, where are you when we need you? Nowhere between Relbia and Rocherlea. Bobby Lind was never invited to the Tasmanian Poetry Festival. Across Lake Trevallyn or Trev (Allan) Lake with nets of wonder he trawls for the bright elusive eel of aquaculture. main() {while(1);} main() {while(1);} And upon the golden plinth the purple leopard sat observing those below him with a disinterested stare, the green will always be green as the wise Holkehty said, and the white will ever redden so. no decision snotty mind giggle snort tooth grin (listen to the cars) [rain/wind background] vanilla malt swirl lips (kissy kissy) empty negative love hello? seasons greetings beauty forgotten In the heart of the Walt Whitman Mall Isn't he the guy who makes the chocolates? Lethargic sparrows - leave the last crumbs for tomorrow. Thanks for the lift. I'll walk from here. ravo chant drink more hops smoke more dope chicks look out RAVO! $800 from Microsoft gets a 3b Trojan and it gets you AIDS, the Antichrist and AOL4Free Year 2000 Update: You’re only a couple of years too late, baby: New Year Virus, Bad Times, be my Valentine. Be spooked, Big Brother, by the Blue Mountain Virus. Blueballs are underrated Budweiser is overrated California IBM Cellsaver Virus Warning: Coke.exe Dear Friends, Death69 Deeyenda Desi I love you Despite the Virus. Discount the Virus. Dr.Simon Wajntraub has E-Flu It’s in the eBook, an economic slowdown ever since Elecciones 2000. Evil the Cat’s family pictures: FatCat on February 1. Flashmaster G has a flower for you. and he has foot ’n’ mouth He goes forward with free M & Ms, free money and free pizza. Let us play: Frogapult, Elfbowl or the Y2K game. With GAP Email Tracking You get more money The ghost is a gift from Microsoft It’s a girl thing. Go hip for the Good Times, and have the guts to say ‘Jesus’. Hacky Birthday, Hacky Halloween, Happy New Year, Hello Dear. Help the poor dog with hairy palms. Hitler knew how to give a cat a colonic infilter. Information on SARC 'Virus Test': Irina had the Irish Virus on Jan 1st 2000. John Kennedy Jr, like a Trojan, joined the crew to launch nuclear strike now. Let's watch TV. Life is beautiful. In the Londhouse Lotus notes a lump of coal and throws it at the Macdonald's Screensaver. In the matrix of Microsoft the Millennium Time Bomb is mobile as a phone and the music panel’s nasty friend turns 99, the new Ice Age. New York, on the big dirt, was the scene where the Norman Virus (Ray) took on the Norton anti - virus. It was just like Osama vs Bush in the Outback Steakhouse, or a pandemic of penpal greetings surviving the Phantom Menace. It was better than playing pikachus ball with Playboy Girls. It was pluperfect. When the postal service email charge went on Red Alert (meaning Returned or Unable to Deliver, even to the Sandman) and the Sarc Virus Test given by that Scoutshacker, Simon Pugh, slavemaster and editor of the South Park Newsletter, gave the SULFNBK.EXE warning, which means that the Symantec ASDL Virus had hit the Teletubbies with a time bomb in Tuxissa, we proceeded to upgrade to Internet 2, acting very cool, to create a virtual card for you. This virus business means you wait 48 hours watching to see what’s up or if you win a holiday. Windows will fail on Jan 1 because the Wobbler Virus is a wooden horse and we all suffer from the Work Virus World Domination starts from being a WTC survivor, listening to Y2K on 2KY, watching only yellow Teletubbies and avoiding Zlatko ZZZZZZZ…… Get out your fat raygun and and cover the world in fat. Put your verse in here...fat boy: What’s the score down there now in St John Street? I don’t know, I don’t know. They say she’s got ’m by the short and curlies down there in St John Street. You wouldn’t know, you wouldn’t know. At first they kicked up such a lot of fuss down there in St John Street. I hear so, I hear so. They say she’s stolen the march down there in St John Street. You really wouldn’t know, you just wouldn’t know. But she’s got them on the run down there in St John Street. Maybe so, maybe so. Well she’s been down there 100 days now in St John Street I guess so, I guess so. They say she got the kind of garbage she wanted. I doubt that, I doubt that, but you’d never know, you’d just never know. So what is the score down there in St John Street? I wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t know. They say he’s got her on the run down there in St John Street. How so? How so? They say he second guesses her all the time down there in St John Street. How so? How so? Well they say he gives her hell down there in St John Street. Is that so? Is that so? They say he’s always at her down there in St John Street. Is that so? Is that so? They say he’s got a gang behind him down there in St John Street. Is that really so? Is that really so? They say he’s really got it in for her down there in St John Street. Is that so? Is that so? So what is the score down there in St John Street? I don’t know, I just don’t know. Are they winning down there in St John Street? How’d you know, just how’d you know? So will there be changes when they next do a count-up down there in St John Street? I guess so, I guess so. Who’s for the chop down there in St John Street? I wouldn’t know, I wouldn’t know. Any bright lights on the horizon? I guess so I guess so Now who is really for the chop down there in St John Street? I don’t know I don’t know There’s got to be some up for it down there in St John Street. I guess so, I guess so. Have they got such short memories out there in Lonnie Land? You wouldn’t know, but I guess so, I guess so. So you think she’ll survive down there in St John Street? I don’t know but I guess so, I guess so. So you think that she’s winning down there in St John Street? I don’t know, I don’t know, but I guess so. But can she win down there in St John Street? I hope so, I hope so. I do hope so. Janie, Janie, Janie Rah Rah Rah Give it to’em, Give it to’em, BABY Rah Rah Rah Drag’em out of the stone age BABY Rah Rah Rah Give it to’em baby Rah Rah Rah Keep’em on their toes Rah Rah Rah Give it to’em baby Rah Rah Rah Tell’em just how it is Rah Rah Rah Give it to’em baby Rah Rah Rah Oh bloody hell just give them hell Rah Rah Rah She says the user must pay, so the city does not have to. Is that so? Is that so? But there’s this other bloke on her tail. Just so, just so. He reckons the same sort of thing And that’s so, it’s really so. He thinks if he says so it must be so. You gotta know, you gotta know, you just gotta know. But he’s not alone And that’s so, it’s surely so. They hunt in a pack. I know. I know. They’re yesterday’s men, But that they don’t know, they just don’t know. But the best thing about them is that they’ll never know. That’s surely so, it’s surely so. Now they’ve almost learnt nothing. I guess so, I guess so Because they’ve learnt nothing they must go, they really must go. Surely so, surely so. So we’ll stand back and watch them. I guess so, I guess so. Will anyone miss them? Maybe so, maybe so. But why would you miss them? You don’t know? You don’t know? Well if I need to tell you We’ve got no show, no show, no show, no show at all. I know, I know, I know. I know how it is to face unemployability, I know how it is to fear losing my ability I know what it’s like not to be able do any work and all they want to do is kick me. I know now about chronic pain I know about their antics I know what it’s like to be hungry and all they want to do is kick me. I know what it’s like to cope with workers' comp I know that whole scenario and I know the biomedical thing, too, and all they want to do is kick me. I know the legal system sux. I know I’m now just a part of the system I know the whole thing and all they want to do is kick me. I know the self pity. I know the madness. I know the humiliation and all they want to do is kick me. Do you know dark nights? Do you know emptiness? Do you know shame? I do, but all they want to do is kick me. Do you know how it is to be shouted at? Do you remember how it was to be young? Do you know what it’s like to feel worthless? I do, but all they want to do is blame me. Do you know what it’s like to just sit there with nothing to do? Do you know what it’s like to have no hope? Do you know what it’s like to be hated? I do, and all they want to do is blame me. Did you ever ask what you could do? Did you ever ask what I could do to change things? Did you ever ask how you could to help me change things? I bet not, but all you want to do is blame me. If I sit in the mall when the sun shines, if I hang out with friends in the park, if I sit on those seats that they put there, all they want to do is blame me. If I turn up for a job and there is none, if I skate on the footpath, if I bomb off the bridge, all they want to do is blame me. If I write on the walls, if I don’t write on the walls, if I have something to say on the walls, all they want to do is blame me. If I have a ring in my nose, if I have some in my ear, if I have some balls on my brow, all they want to do is blame me. If I do something wrong, if I’ve done nothing wrong, if they think I’ve done something wrong, now he wants to name me. If I’m out late at night, if I’ve got nowhere to go, if they think I’m on my own, now all they want to do is shame me. Shame us and shame me, shame me. Shame to him, shame to them, shame shame shame. She’s naked on the lawn, she’s in the park Out among the wet grasses and the wild clover Parklands, backwards, frontside, through the lush green And crinkly gum leaves, over spongy tussocks And shaggy old grasses, the abandoned haunts Of plovers and seagulls, face to face With dog trails, little niches, all smelly Bird’s songs; or in a stone-walled garden, level With the daffodils and pansies, Grasshoppers, the bent red blossoms, Shoulder over shoulder, leg over leg, clear To the ferny edge of the goldfish pond--some people Believe in the revitalising powers of this act--naked Like a frog on a log, belly and hips, thighs And ankles drenched in the dew-filled gulches Of wet leaves, in that soft bed beneath the bushes, All of the skin exposed directly to the birds’ cries Of the blackbirds, the chirping of the sparrows, to the cooing doves Those calls merging with the dawn mists Of slippery grass, entering the bare body then Not merely through the ears but through the skin Of every naked person willing every event and potentiality Of a damp transforming dawn to enter the new day. She practised it, when wind allowed, Lying down naked in the morning and on the dew, With all of her splendour believing in a single flower Her creamy white skin could soak up and invent That glowing innocence of elixir and light. And I admit to embracing myself, without question, In the magical vigour of the dew on her cheeks And her breasts believing faithfully In the miraculous powers of early morning dew on her skin in the park Of her body just loafing in purple beds little violets, Blue forgetmenots. And I accept, without doubt, In the puzzle of her medicinal energy coming From that ungrudging notion in the bountiful discovery Of the exquisite pleasure of the naked body rolling And rolling through all the soft and sun-filled park, Inky, sheathed and sparkling, surrounded And light-headed luxuriance of each dawn Of the rolling lawns and my delight Just consider how the idea alone Has caused me to sing to sin and to sing This entire morning I dream of you upon the lawn naked More than just naked, and not just rolling in the dew Launceston is a hole. I will be glad to see it explodeded. I liek nuculearr wepaonsss!!! DESTROY!!!!! My mommuyuy says I'm aspaecial. My name is will, brother of joe,i got me some crack and want me some hoes lemme hear ya say yeah lemme hear ya say yeah ! His name is sam son of yoda the master of funk, he goin out to smoke some skunk lemme hear ya say yeah lemme her ya say yeah. ‘Cos then I will sing of the morning dawn, of the sun as it rises from its slumber, yeah, say yeah. I will sing of the day as it lives, bringing love to all the life it gives. Lemme hear ya sing of the night as the sun goes to bed, and the moon begins to shine down upon us all, will and joe, sam and yoda, all the smokers and chasers, And I will say goodnight to you and to a girl called milly, who liked to wear things frilly, though everyone said she was silly, even her boyfriend billy. and his friend called fred who lay every night in bed, while being fed bread. by a girl called jill. she had quite a chill, every night she took a pill, for she was very ill. Lemme hear ya say yeah for jill and billy and fred, and especially milly, Illusions of the dark shatter the midmorning sun and the bustle on the streets creeps into the night an old lady hobbling across the street sent flying by the G town bogans out of town LET THE BASS KICK! OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-OOMP- Humming through the diseased streets-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS- Like a maggot through a corpse-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-OOMP- Like a cancer without a cure-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS- I AM THE VACCINATION!-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OOMP-TSSS-OO- smash. These poems are truly awful. They make me want to puke. Do the authors even have brains? Or is it just a fluke That their fingers found the keyboard? Perhaps it was their spit Randomly sprayed across the keys, Causing a short circuit. Why are gibbering idiots Allowed to roam around? If only I could have my way, They'd be six feet underground. (That was an anonymous editorial comment which we shall allow to stand, feeling that the standards by which the critic judges others’ efforts are not being equally applied to his own.) - Ed. Meanwhile the city of Lawnceston has got itself a laun, a small one albeit, in fact the tiniest and possibly the first to be hijacked as it was on Friday 21st of June by a felon known only as Garbage McRort. But before that it was mayorally opened, lawnched, in fact, and celebrated with the following lines: You think that patch of green down there is just a Greta Garbo square that only says, “I want to be a lawn.” But it’s big enough for standing on so it’s a lawn — or is that lon? Depends, of course, on whereabouts you were born. But ‘lawn’ or ‘lon’, two syllables or three, this is the city where you’ll see the smallest patch of grass in all the world, an urban mini playing ground where lawny games and sports are found, where tiny lawny balls are hurled. This miniscule arena here on York and George we shall revere as we revere the ancient dinger story. We burn the Lonniedinger on the winter Solstice here in Lon ceston and celebrate the lawn’s small glory. The lawn chorus, too, burst into song. Their tunes were borrowed, but their words belong to you, to me, to all the lawny city's people, so here are their grassy ditties: Lonnie’s Smallest Garden (sung to Octopus’ Garden) I’d like to be down by O’Keefe’s In Lonnie’s smallest garden in the shade They’ll let us in, know where we’ve been In Lonnie’s smallest garden in the shade. I’ll ask my friends to come and see The world’s smallest little lawn with me. I’d like to be down by O’Keefe’s In Lonnie’s smallest garden in the shade We would be warm upon the lawn In our little hideaway under the trees Resting our heads on the park bench In Lonnie’s smallest garden by O’Keefe’s We would sing and dance around Because we know we can’t be found I’d like to be under the trees In Lonnie’s smallest garden by O’Keefe’s We would shout and run about The bricks that lie around the lawn Oh what joy for every girl and boy Doesn’t matter what hat you’ve got on We would be so happy you and me No one there to tell us what to do I’d like to be down by O’Keefe’s In Lonnie’s smallest garden with you. The Green, Green Grass of Laun (ceston) The old lawn looks the same As I gaze down from the plane And there to meet me are my mama and my papa Down the road I look and there runs Janie Hair of god and mayor’s chainy It’s good to touch the green, green grass of Laun (ceston). Green Grows the Lonnie Lawn I’ll sing you one-oh Green Grows the Lonnie Lawn What is your one-oh? One foot long and one foot wide One foot long on every side. Two dimensions nice and square If you’re a square I’ll meet you there York Street, George Street, Earl Street, Three! Four trees. No leaves. Winter. We freeze! Oh Lonnie Lawn (sung to Oh Tannenbaum) Oh Lonnie Lawn, Oh Lonnie Lawn Your grass looks green to me (repeat) It’s green when summer days are bright It’s green when winter snow is white Oh Lonnie Lawn, Oh Lonnie Lawn Your grass looks green to me Oh Lonnie Lawn, Oh Lonnie Lawn You are so very tiny Oh Lonnie Lawn, Oh Lonnie Lawn The dew makes you feel slimy You used to wear a coat of bricks But now the grass on you is thick Oh Lonnie Lawn, Oh Lonnie Lawn You are so very tiny. Up on the Lawn (sung to Up on the Roof) When this old world start getting me down And people are just too much for me to face I crawl way up to the top of the block And all my cares just lift right into space On the lawn it’s peaceful as can be And there the world below can’t bother me Let me tell you ‘bout when I get home feeling tired and beat I go up where the grass is fresh and sweet I get away from the hustling crowd And all that rat-race noise there in the street On the lawn’s the only place I know Where you just have to wish to make it so Let’s go up on the lawn. At night the cars put on a show for free And darling you can share it all with me I keep on tellin’ you Right smack dab in the middle of town I’ve found a paradise that’s trouble free So if this world starts a-getting’ you down There’s room enough for two Up on the lawn…. On Top of Old George StreetOn top of old George Street All covered with grass I saw old Ray Norman He fell on his Now don’t get excited Now don’t get alarmed I saw old Ray Norman He fell on his arm. Thankyou to the Lawny singers, now an appropriate comment by way of getting back to the poem: The old songs are still the best songs I haven't heard anything new. Stars, rivers, tides and common sense, These things ring true, They have not grown obsolete, Nor lost ground. Depend on them, They will not let you down. These new answers, these styles and ornaments, They will not endure. Build your house upon the rocks Not upon the shore. New songs are good songs There is always something new. Ideas, thoughts, coursing in the brains of the young, These things renew and renew, In their turn they'll become obsolete, When they've taken us to new places. Depend on them, They will lead you forward. These new understandings, these techniques just enrich, They are not there to endure. Build your life upon the moment Not upon the past. I like Goldfish in my pants They make me sing, they make me dance Put your verse in here, put your verse in here, put your verse in here and make it very clear. Any other details here, any other details here, any other details here that you want to volunteer. In autumn's tepid leaf-torn gutters fingerless gloves eels in black beanies cavort and writhe to base-amp blockies up one-way streets Searching for the odour of mouldy despair. The streets of Launceston are lines, lines of a long poem, at first seeming not poetic, like what is in this little box, but then, looking further, what could be more poetic than the opposite of beauty? Stark square lines no colours only black white and grey fenced in by the off white detail of a computer where inspiration is found with only the click of a button and talent is plentiful. Launceston online, Launceston on lines, in lines, in verse. The verses run long and thin, but shape and body image obsess us all. Someone might say, "You are so fat. How can you get so fat?" It is an easy thing to measure a man's girth, to calculate the exact degree of anorexic wasting of the girl who wanted to be a model Launcestonian: Jilly in the Skye with diamonds. There's no nutrition in diamonds. There's measurement, though, of colour, clarity and carats, carats you can see in the dark. Just how do you measure a man's life? I have no ruler, rod or length of chain. I have a photo of him on my balcony, Freshly washed and shaved, he didn't always look like a bum, I've broken bread with him but never shared a bottle, (that would have been unwise) It's a curious thing, the sun. Fly too close and you lose your wings, Turn away and you wither and die. Farewell Tim Smith. Launceston Is A Great Little Place Full Of Everything But Disgrace Yo Yo Yo Some people are just very very fat And that Is That Launceston is a dreary place or so one finds it up anyhow, sight the crowd, a form, or face as along noisy streets winds blow. “Fit for neither man nor beast” best describes its immoveable feast. Launceston is a dreary town that's what I've thought for long, full of bigots that cause a frown, Tamar river giving off its pong, streets full to crowded overflowing pretentious populace, grim of face, no real idea where the .... they’re going stay away is good advice, in any place. Red sent this little ditty. You're thinking more's the pity! 'Twas 'ere Thursday, but then Friday was gone, my verse, no verse, reversed poem on Launceston. Since the day it faded away others have inserted prose much the same as those which also included 'put your verse in here' and, 'any other details' to the rear. I know this is a simple note, but hope it adds to what's already wrote! Who knows what happens in the ether net, sometimes we have to take what we can get, so, to appease my angst today, I've reinserted what I felt to say. Here again is my lost tome, A gift to Lonnie, my municipal home! Someone asked about a tragedy once, on air. No-one would speak, the line was dead. It was too soon, too soon to speak of carnage, decades on; only yesterday. The fingerpost points to Launceston shrouded in a silent memory. Someone knew - something. "I know, but won't say." You smile, hold power. To speak out would weaken you, usurp your parochial place. Keep the secrets, don't say, don't say. The silence holds within Tamar fog. Mist puffs from damp clothes in weak sun pegged to a frost-bitten line. Like pollen bursts it spreads on winter's breath beyond the post office clock, above church spires, billows over the malls around Brisbane Street, and upwards across the block to land on the Little Lawn, what's left of it. Hefty skidmarks slide across the mini square, eliminate green blades in York Street, leave a muddy patch amid red bricks. Who skated across the grass? The silence holds, holds. I tried the 'phone up that way, once, on the George Street side, it worked, I was surprised. Launceston is a town for lovers And why not Love knows no postcode At the point of confluence, where north and south tributaries meet the main stream, a craft rocks, words roll, pour from inshore, offshore, follow the scent of the bait wriggling on set hooks. The rods have long been cast, reels still scream, unwind at knots. Tidal flows drag the long poetic line, stretch it out to the Strait. It splits and flows eastward to the Tasman, the Pacific, westward to the Great Southern, the Indian and beyond, beyond, beyond… Dale Summers from Summerdale washed his car on a sunny day. His wife took the kids to sport in the 4WD and shopped at Woolies on the way back. That night, lying awake and thinking about things, Dale decided to leave his mark on the world. Somehow. Meanwhile Trev Allen, who lived on the other side of the Gorge in an architect designed 1980s timber house with a big deck, kissed his wife goodbye and got in his Saab ready to negotiate the frosty bends down into the city. But Trev nev- er made it to the office. He kept on driving and days later they found the Saab at the airport. Leonard Sainty, from the other side of town, lived at home with his sick mum. He had a chip on his shoulder because girls never liked him and he was lonely. He thought about suicide, he thought about joining the army, he thought about becoming a Hare Krishna. He did none of these things. He just kept on looking after his mum and trying unsuccessfully to get laid. We all respond differently to life in Launceston. Trev, it is rumoured, was last seen trudging through Central America with a cheap backpack and waist-length hair. Leonard watches TV and drinks too much. Dale is still working out what to do. so far, all he has thought of is contributing to the Longpoem. Guess which lines are his. cushions & cat-hair shining the light is shining in my eyes my eyes sweeping sounds filling my ears sounds in my ears taste poured in my mouth the taste of honey drips down my chin touching your space where you were before you left touching the space sensing the fragrance left sensing the remaining touch of lavender the chamomile tea shouting I MISS YOU shouting loudly I MISS YOUR VOICE your sight breaking down slowly but surely breaking down at watery angles breaking down all in view. Surprised, saddened. but then again, why not just smile and enjoy it anyway? Burkhas in the backyard, where we used to play Batman and Bradman. Worldmusic on the FM. Whatever happened to Matilda and her laconic waltz? Kids dying in the camps. I should sew my eyes together so I can’t see the pain on the Minister’s face. (At least I think it’s pain.) When the government tells the truth it just isn’t right that the facts continue to lie. The pub has no beer. I suppose that is because the bloody Muslims are all teetotallers. The drop kick has gone the way of all old footballers: Gavin Luttrell died today. Launceston’s macho heroes are dying and they’ve not even been incarcerated except in Changi (well, maybe a few in Risdon, but we’ll let that pass). Remember the Lawrence Hotel when Big Jeff had it and his tough mates used to hang out there? Remember the rigged boxing bouts in the Albert Hall? Now you holler for a martial art, or any other kind of art for that matter. Progress with Prudence. But Prudence has always played hard to get. Now the Tassie Tiger can only be seen on the Council’s logo, trying to push the city uphill. It’s frustrating just so frustrating there is this view of the world it’s perplexing and just so bloody frustrating then she keeps telling me how it is it’s confusing and just so frustrating then he keeps on telling me it always been like that that’s annoying just so frustrating he has the attention span of an insect that’s puzzling and much more than frustrating they keep on saying the same old things that’s mystifying and all too frustrating she tells me time and time again that’s confounding and just so frustrating he must have wax in his ears it’s baffling, annoying and just so frustrating he wants a word war it’s frustrating she doesn’t want an idea exchange that’s frustrating just so frustrating they tell me it always been like that now that’s frustrating just so frustrating but she says I’ll have it no other way GEEZZZZ, that’s frustrating just so frustrating she tells me I’m missing her point now that’s a mistake and just so frustrating she tells me she has a point because there is just one it’s so frustrating, just so frustrating you ask her where she is coming from and she has nothing to say bloody hell, that’s frustrating it’s just so frustrating you ask her to explain her position and she has nothing to say now that’s disturbing and so so so frustrating just so frustrating so you listen and listen to all she has to say just because it’s frustrating just so so so frustrating you know that she has so little to say that’s OK but it’s frustrating just so frustrating because its so little you are able to say OK, OK God preserve me, it’s frustrating just so bloody frustrating you think it over and she thinks she has won that’s frustrating just so frustrating next time you see her she does it all again now that’s painful and just toooooo frustrating because it’s so so so frustrating I’m ending it all its just too frustrating all tooooo frustrating now she is boasting that she has won now that’s frustrating she’s just so f#$%in frustrating she’s missed the f#$%in point yet again its all so f#$%in pointless and frustrating, frustrating, just so f#$%in frustrating, frustrating, so ssooo sssooo frustrating now there’s blood on the wall and a smile on her face it’s frustrating, so frustrating so so so frustrating. haraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang haraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang haarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrang screams the angry red turtle not a step in the city falters the meander of Launceston’s life continues the shop burns down! How many of your Cornish seafaring ancestors are buried under the Old Seaport? There is a huge tree of seaweed bigger and possibly older than anything in Ockerby Gardens. Have they chopped it up so that when the submarines bring almost-drowned fishermen from Bass Strait they can be revived on the Ponting Pontoon without interference from nature? Look adda me, Academy! The art students are railing at the workshops. Rail-Way to go! Bloody long way to go if you ask me. When will the faculty become inVincible? The gallery By-the-waters only seems to show art. When will it show some heart? The outriders of Graffiti Watch report that high up on the back wall of the old Telecom building in St John Street someone has painted the words: “No more Lonniedingers!” Meanwhile on a paling fence near the racecourse there was (briefly) this messaage: “Abajo el Barbudo Fry. Viva Susi” Now, my Spanish is a bit rusty, but perhaps one should never discount the ethnic vote even in dreary old Anglo-Launceston. Anyone for cricket? By Jiminy. Anyone for boxing? By Daniel. Happy is anyone sits in governance And who need not walk in the shadow of the corrupt, Nor walk with vandals and delinquents, Nor sit in the company of the tardy! Their delight is in the lore of the world, And in its laws they meditate day and night. They will be like trees planted by streams of sweet water, Trees that yield their sustenance in its season And never wither; And who will prosper in whatever they do. The corrupt are not so, For they are like effluent which is flushed away, And consigned to the Tamar. The corrupt shall not stand in judgment, Nor will the degenerate be tolerated by the righteous. The knowing will know the noble and vote for them, And through them the corrupt will surely be found out, And they’ll perish in the eyes of the world. The Little Lawn is the home of the Antichrist, or so we've been told today by a gentleman from Waverley who has had his say on the Examiner's letters page. It wasn't just in play that the double-headed dinger was burnt but in the gravest way it constituted an attack on every safe cliché by which we live our moral lives. Me? I just say "Hooray!" Gee what a bunch of grizzlers! Don't they know their time will come, is coming, has come? Don't they walk down High, George, St John in the summer sun to smell the roses? Don't they know the people who live on the Side of the River growing lemons and tomatoes, and making their own preserves? Didn't they live in Sydney in summer, when the only place to eat was inside, and every restaurant was a Sizzler? In Melbourne, when the only thing they did with their river was treat it like a sewer, brown and rancid? In London, when the only coffee to be had was old, grey and tepid? At the dawn of a new age, Launcestonians, Let the light shine from a thousand newly painted window sills on jaunty colours and fond designs Let your light shine Let it bounce off the Tamar and onto our Lady of Inspiration (thanks Janie) Let it shine on All der Men (so long and thanks for all the fish and chips) Let it shine on Ravo and Mowbray and Mayfield On block-busters with anthems thumping loud Let your light shine. Let it shine from the crystal glow of every man's pc and everywoman's personal organiser Let your light shine on the biggest problems and the smallest lawn Let your light shine on nascent LAUNCESTON They say that in Launceston Anything Goes, but that’s only in the Princess. Otherwise, nothing much goes, but it goes real fast, especially around the city block on a Saturday night. Mall roof , A testimony to stupidity Money foolishly spent when the youth are crying out for help Forget them, after all they are the citizens of tomorrow A stolen and forgotten generation.. That silly umbrella that they put in the Mall: it's out of a comic book. Looks like a station, and we're still waiting for the train. We'll be waiting a long time. Two sticks and some wire: whoever put it there needs to go to a head shrinker. loud heavy music people bodies swaying screaming popping pills weed a teenager collapses panick alone quiet overdose a blank screen quiet full of mystery waiting the pen writes a short note sharp intake of breath outburst sobs still gone forever Poetry is boring , boring, boring Great for putting you to sleep when reading a book that quotes loads of poetry. BORING. BORING. BORING. Why do people waste their time writing poetry ? Is it so that they can inflate their egos and bore other people? BORING BORING BORING I just wish I could find something to rhyme with boring other than boaring! Boring: whoring storing flooring scoring Try to find a rhyme for 'purple' If you really want a challenge But who said poetry should rhyme? It would be a crime to limit language to the rudiments of savage grunts. I could say that I prefer pull to push and I like purple better than orange. Now find a rhyme for orange. They’re giving her hell, by geezzz they’re giving her hell She opens her mouth And they’ll give her hell, by geezz they’ll give her hell She says just about anything And they give her hell, they just give her hell She speaks her mind And they’ll give her hell, they just give her hell She came out of almost nowhere So they thought they’d give her hell, just give her hell, give her hell She tells it like it is So they thought they’d give her hell, give her hell, give her hell She’s a girl not an old boy So they thought they’d give her hell, give her hell, give her hell She talks to this one and then to that one So then they’ll give her hell, just give her hell, just give her hell So she is younger but knows more than they do So give her hell, just give her hell, just give her hell But she has big ideas and smaller ones And they still give her hell, you bet they give her hell She has a belief they just won’t understand And they’ll give her hell, by god almighty they give her hell Now she has something to say and it’s important And of course they’ll give her hell, just give her hell, just give her hell They have nothing at all to offer But they still give her hell, they just give her hell, hell and more hell They’re a waste of space and you know that But they’ll still give her hell, give her hell, give her hell They hardly know up from down But they’ll still give her hell, they just give her hell, more hell, more hell They’re lazy and they’re loopy But they’ll still out there giving her hell, giving her hell, you can tell, you can tell She has an eye to the future and one on the past And they’ll give her hell, you can tell, you can just tell They have a view of the past and its all wonderful And they give her hell and for the hell of it they just give her hell She is proving her point in the present And they’ll give her hell, they’ll give her hell, they’ll give her hell She has proven her point over and over Because they gave her hell, you can tell, you can tell Now they’ve wounded themselves so mortally Because they gave her such hell, you can tell, you can tell She’s now a folk hero because of the hell that they gave her You can tell, you can tell you sure can tell She’s done so well, so well and everyone loves her Because they gave her the hell, you can tell, you can just tell Now we all went out there to vote for her Because they gave her such hell, such hell, such hell They’re a bunch of silly old bastards How can you tell, how can you tell They’re playing silly games You can tell, you can tell, you can tell In the political game they’re her best asset You can tell, she can tell, but they can’t tell They’ve lost the plot, oh they’ve really lost it You can tell, you can tell, you can tell She’s keeps coming up trumps Because they’ve given her hell, just because they’ve given her hell Now she is a real mover and shaker How can you tell? How do you know? Because they just give her so much hell, you can tell, you can tell, you can tell Now she’s a winner and she keeps on going How can you tell? How do you know? Where will she go? It’s all because she’s stealing their thunder You can tell, you can tell, you can tell And now they’ll give her more hell, you can tell, you can tell, you can just tell But she’ll come up there from under You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell They’ll just give her more to run for You can tell, you can tell, you can tell Now she’ll give them something to run for She’ll give ’m hell, give ’m hell, give ’m hell But they’re all breathless and dumbfounded You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell She’s out there on the home straight and going for it You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell They’re dragging the chain and they’re lagging You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell So who’ll have a ton that they’ll wager Who can tell, who can tell, who can tell She’ll come home and just astound them You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell The odds are clear that she’ll beat them You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell So who’s got a ton that they’ll wager I can’t tell, I can’t tell, can’t tell Who is out there to trip her? They won’t tell, they won’t tell, they just won’t tell But they think that they’ll buy some sticks that’ll trip her Maybe they will, maybe they will But she’s got the stamina to out run them You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell And she’s got the wit to out-suss them You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell Now this saga could go on for ever You can tell, you can tell, you can just tell And she could win it again or just lose it Who can tell, who can tell, who can tell? But if those silly old buggers can just stay there What the hell? What the hell? What the bloooodddy hell? The kids will all have to pack up and go somewhere You can tell, you can tell, you can just bloody well tell Now just for the moment we’ll have to end it And perhaps I’ll press the button and just send it And they’ll give her more hell, they’ll just give hell You can tell, you can tell, you can tell Good ole Lonny what a wonderful place to be Gently nestled within its hills and snuggled beneath a doona-like cover of winter mist Ben Lomond and Barrow standing so proud showing off their coats of sparkling white snow Beautiful crisp and sunny spring days with blossoms and bulbs abundant Summer time exploring the river along the boardwalk, sipping coffee at the seaport or riding the Odyssey Autumn leaves floating in the parks teasing the monkeys to come frolic and play There is so much in such a small place and it is the envy of many especially by visitors from mainland cities So proud to say born and bred in Lonny and very happy to stay Where else would you find a lifestyle so relaxed, gentle and free? While he’s our guide; we will find ourselves up blind alleys. He does things that were never necessary: he leads us astray. He troubles our conscience: he leads us up garden paths just to pass time. Yes, while ever we live in the shadow of his thoughts, we will experience depravity: because he’s around us; his ideas and his staff he just shoves in our face. He supports our enemies: he frightens the hell out of us; our bodies tremble. Surely decency and forgiveness has abandon us for all the days of our lives: and I will dread his presence forever and ever. The Graffiti Watch is coming to a neighbourhood near you. Latest reports include: “Launceston - a pity not a city” on the bridge near Ritchies Mill, “Annette is a Greenie now” on a rock up the Gorge and at latest count 17 “Janie 4 eva”s in various places. But the best of all: “Help George B wipe out grafiti” on the Waverley scout hall. We wait in vain (so far) for “No Aussie troops for Iraq” or any reference to Alexander Downer’s fishnet stockings, Peter Costello’s smirk, or Jim Bacon’s piles. Nor has anyone sighted any slogan at all concerning Robin McKendrick. Robin Who? Rene, too, is in Hid(d)ing. Yeah, I’ve always reckoned that there’s not enough graffiti in Lonnie. And there’s not enough of a lot of other things, too, like fairy floss, curling and night clubs that specialise in masochism. We could also do with a few streakers at York Park, and whatever happened to the free drugs you used to be able to get on the third level of the Paterson Street East car park every second Wednesday at 8.30 pm? Launceston is a cool sort of place, especially round the back of the Newstead Baptist Church on an August night when Big Dave keeps his appointments, but you have to be really tough, determined or just plain crazy to walk across the Hoblers Bridge Road netball courts after dark. George, George, George, Oh what’s in a name? Truth? Justice? The Launcestonian way? George is such an innocuous name From ancient times: Tiller of the soil, they say. Raker of muck more like When given to some. A couple of kings were called George Could a mother want to resort to that? Georges are above tilling the soil Some are up to raking muck, but some pigs at the trough Failed to notice the new arrival: "Girlie" to them but A much-needed fresh approach to others. Not to mention the learned foreign travel rorts coming in at Just under fifty thousand, to avoid having to tender The business to the general public who are represented And often reprehended by the old farts. One day soon they will be blown on the wind Like all the other old guards before them (if the comparison does not confer too much respect). But Lonnie is Lonnie And we get what we deserve. If you don't like it - get off your A(!) And away from your keyboard...... And do something constructive! Who knows? You might like it And people Might like you And you might get elected And get slagged off in some long Uninspiring poem As you too Become One of them An old fart Blown away on the wind. Now George he stepped up and had his say And everyone smiled and said, "Go away. Please go away." He got testy as he believed everything he had to say And almost everyone said, "Stay away. Please stay away." Then he got belligerent because he insisted that he was right And everyone laughed and said. "Goodday, George, goodday." Now George he thought a little but he decided he'd sit tight And everyone said, "All right, George, all right." But he jumped up and down and he said he was right And everyone said, "By George you're not bright. You're not very bright." He then thumped the table and said that black was white And everyone said, "Please, George, just get out of our sight." By now George was getting obstreperous And everyone said, "You silly old fool, you silly old fool." He went red in the face and spluttered all over us Then everyone called him a jerk, "You stupid old jerk." And now he's getting more and more boisterous And everyone says he's over the top. Now George, he's considering his future And everyone says they're wondering Now George he is thinking he won't stay And everyone says they're wondering Now George, he's saying, "Maybe one day…" And everyone says they're wondering, they're wondering, wondering and wondering. There's this fellow out there they call Scooder He's all over the place And he'll tell you this And he'll tell you that They reckon he has the attention span of a gnat. They say this bloke is a straight shooter He's full of stories And he'll tell you this And he'll tell you that Yet they say he has all the cunning of a rat But some they say this guy's a dill He's full of it, just full of it And he'll tell you this And he'll tell you that But if he catches you on your mobile that's that. I think Launceston is a very nice town (city) but with a few square heads who should be put in a nursing home. When I come back from my travels I feel like I am home in Launceston. Compared to all the other places, with what is happening in the world, this is pretty good, pretty safe. When the Tamar throws its fog off like a blanket in the morning and thinks about work, What does it plan? So Ivan Dean thinks we’re “mindless cowards”. We’re not the ones with mace and guns, with the backing of taxpayers’ funds, with walkie-talkies to call up reserves. Ivan Dean and his uniformed thugs had better watch their backs, ’cause all is fair in love and war, and he ain’t loved. We are far from “mindless”. We’re too smart to work for the Man. We’re not “cowards” either. We only have our fists and knives and bottles, against the blue enemy, but we’ll use whatever it takes. And we’ll win. A to Z of Launceston: A: alluring, agreeable, Albert Hall B: beautiful, Boags, boardwalks, boats C: city park, civil, Chalmers, churches, cyclists, children D: delightful, dilly-dally, deluge, ducks E: Esks (North & South), eucalypts F: family friendly, Festivale, fountains, flood, foggy, flowers G: gorge, gorgeous, green, goldfish, Glen Dhu H: hospitable, happy, hills I: ideal, idiosyncratic, Inveresk, Invermay J: jolly, joggers, jaunty, jumble, Janie K: kindly, keen, kiddies, keels, kaleidoscope L: loveable, little, lovely, Lloyds M: mountains, misty, mystical, monkeys N: nice, noteable, namesake, nature O: open, oaks, old P: Princes Square, people, peaceful, parks Q: queenly, quiet, quadrupeds, quiescent R: restful, ripples, river, regal, roses S: solid, St Johns, silverfish, space, spires, sunny, sheep, seagulls T: Tamar River, trees, tremendous U: urban, useful V: vivacious, valuable, vital, valley, Victoriana W: wonderful, Windmill Hill, walkers, winsome X: X-uberant Y: yachts, yuppy Z: zany how i miss ya how i miss ya my dear old lonnie! in the place of many crows i get sick of hearing people tell me every-bloody-place name twice. the locals call it wagga. they tell me wagga wagga like i'm deaf. can't wait to get back to civilisation. tell the lonnie locals that in nsw i learned place names as a second language The Graffiti Watch never sleeps. The Talbot Road lookout is a prime site. Spotted this week: "Wayne Carey for the Democrats" and underneath in a different hand: "Ali Bakhtiyari to coach the Roos". On the Riverside underpass: "Build more helipads" and someone has inserted between the first two words: "lots and lots". Meanwhile, in bright red letters on a wall of the old hospital: "Tony pecks while Graeme beams". The "Janie 4 eva" count is up to 23 and there was, briefly, a "Free Brett Whiteley" on a wall at the old Coats Patons mill. Some people think this was a reference to the Sydney artist, while others believe it was the Burnie Liberal. As one is in heaven and the other in limbo, the verdict is open. There should be a helipad outside every house instead of a garden. If you live in a block of flats there should be one on the roof. If you're homeless the Government should provide one as an essential part of Social Security. If you are dead, then a helipad is even more important. Just think how many helicopters you could land at Carr Villa. Why has the Council not provided helipads for the City Park monkeys? It's not too late. Now Ivan Dean is out. There is some kind of justice in Launceston, but it's a weird kind when K & J are inside and Deanie's meanies walk the streets. There was a young person from LGH who grew even younger. What pills did she take from Pharmacy? Earthworms, earthworms have no eyes and they like to eat meat pies. Little Denis likes to wear a safari suit while playing tennis. His ugly sister Jean and her boyfriend Dean think he’s a creep and a menace. “I’m meeting the Queen at two for dinner,” said Denis. “He’s a lovely chap and he’s bringing his friend Trevor dressed in a boa and feathers.” Roses are red. Violets are blue. Most rhymes rhyme, but this one doesn’t. Freedom of conscience entails more dangers than authority and despotism. The Sturz, he gets on everyone’s nerves. He never learns, the Sturz. He moans, he groans, but no-one listens because he gets on everyone’s nerves, the Sturz. Hello Jess Devlin. Beware of the Tone. He lives alone. But he’s always on the telephone, listening to the dial tone. He wishs he had a clone. But it would only moan. Is that so? I don’t think so. Everyone I know loves the Tone. Especially Tone. Why do fools fall in love? Women, it seems, are like a horse team. If you hold the reins tight they react with fright, but if you give them their head they end up in your mate’s bed. The time it takes in A & E could almost be the death of me. But no fault of the staff. They will sometimes laugh. It’s up to those damned fat pollies! What do you do if you find a cop who isn’t corrupt? Shoot him before he is. ’Cause if you don;’t he soon will be. Custer was Siouxed. Wisest is she who knows she does not know. Blessed are they who go round in circles, for they shall be known as big wheels. Thirty days has September, April, June and no wonder. All the rest eat Vegemite, except Grandma — She rides a bicycle. I’d like a bit of Vegemite. I’d like it much more than a bike. But I still think I’d remember if I’d eaten it in September. There was a young lady from Adelaide who would sing whenever bade. There was only one thing wrong; it was always a Bon Jovi song, but in that pink flannelette she had it made. We are the biggest business in the North As 911 stole our power our control Jackson lack defaulted decisions to the bureaucrat We have exploded the dreaded vine CEO squeezed no vision for the North Memories and what might be reduce control David in the trenches will your life depend upon the bureaucrat Authority and responsibility not the choice of the vine Nursed beds the club restricted no tools for the North The patriots steal the emotions to control David follow David control the bureaucrat Paper shuffling not the goal but the goal of the vine. The Sepo’s they arsked for it, so on that fateful day on 9-11 they got their just deserts. From their CIA trained man with his own terrorist squad. Now the World Trade Centre it made a good parking lot for a couple of 747s, direct hit good on you Osama I say, but they should have bin Laden with a nuclear bomb to blow all those Sepo’s away. The service in here ain’t nothing to cheer. The pharmacy’s slow, But wouldn’t you know The A & E, for sure, is the worst. It’s no wonder, I guess, That the country’s a mess. We follow the Yanks For little or no thanks. Australia will go to war. And all we will get Is more national debt, Whilst the spoils of war The Yanks will get for sure. We followed their lead to Vietnam. You’d think that we would learn, from past mistakes, That all politicians are lower than snakes. But then again, those arseholes remain. We should shoot the lot of them And give the country back to those indigenous blacks. Do I like working at the LGH? I don’t know. The money? What money? Be glad to have a job. But money doesn’t grow on trees — not even magnolia trees. If you notice this Notice, you’ll notice this Notice is not worth noticing. Justice is just what it says: Just ice. No whisky and no water, only a cold hard frozen substance, usually served in a place that’s full of bars. Only thing is, you can’t get a drink at any of them bars, ’cause that’s what you all think is justice. I’d love to be a glowworm, ’cause a glowworm’s never glum. It’s hard to be unhappy when the sun shines out your bum! It’s better to burn out than to fade away. Peace through superior firepower: fly away home! There was a young lady called Grettta who insisted on wearing a tight sweater. She had three reasons: one was to keep warm, but the other two reasons were better. Warry the wombat trundled so far visiting Launceston from Waratah. The hospital’s Holman Clinic was his quest, its excellence in care to be put to the test. At the cafeteria he dined on award winning cake which tasted so fine. Now back to Waratah he’ll race to tell his mates of this great place, back to Waratah’s waterfall to continue his fight to save the big hall. Howard’s the man that the Aussies voted for. They must have been out of their minds, ’cause that fool would follow that moron Bush to war, but little Johnny, of course, he will stay behind. George W. Bush for war will push. To the United Nations, that’s who Bush will beg. So like his daddy before, Bush he can be sure that Iraq will be his little war. He’s a chip off the old block. Then the Yanks can be sure that with Bush’s war Australia will be there to do all of the shit work for sure, ’cause they/we voted for that little shit Howard, now it’s time that they/we followed the Kiwis’ lead for once and told the Yanks to piss off instead. On rubbish nights the wheelie bins line up like pink whores along the street, waiting to be picked up. Their pink is not pale like a virgin rosebud, but bolder, the colour of the Hagley pub, and we all know what goes on in the Hagley pub. Oh Janie, Janie, what have you done to our once prudent, prudish town? You’ve given us these rows of shame, pink trash containers like white trash. You call them burgundy? I’d never drink a burgundy that looked like that. The Graffiti Watch is everywhere. Whatever was written about Gunns at the top of Howick Street soon disappeared. But out near the Kings Meadows wool stores there’s a “Fire Gunns” and on a warehouse in Boland Street there’s a “Shoot Gunns” under which, in a different hand, “No more clearfelling. No more bad puns” They’ve come here from harsh lands with even harsher laws. They’ve risked their lives, they’ve split their families for this, this speck of hope like one faint star in a black sky. When they get here they’re reviled, called child-drowners, terrorists. They are jailed in the desert, in cages the RSPCA would not accept for dogs. They are denied basic human rights, treated much worse than criminals, and yet they have committed no crime. Despite all this they are grateful and think they are better off than they were back home in constant fear of tyrants. But it is only the tiny, tiny minority who choose Australia. Millions more are smart enough to flee to the civilised world. The ABC in northern Tas has done a lot; it really has. And one very important thing: It's given us poems about Spring by children who have sent them in Here are a couple to make you grin: Spring Powums . How the wether blows pste you How cold it was It bica sunny now Oh how the rane chricoolde down the wendo And the cold era blew Oh how the wind blows throe the trees and Blosums blowm in your garden And how the sun shines oh so brit It’s nice in the spring but not in the wenter Its nice in the sun to Oh and how blosum shine like goold Wind is going around me so That’s why you see the daffodils blow The sun is getting warmer now That is why I see the baby cow. School holidays are here and I sing That’s why I love the Spring Sometimes raining, sometimes sun It can really spoil my fun I still love the Spring! I wish the weather was like this I wish the weather was a witch I wish the weather was like this So I can make a wish, wish, wish. Spring My fingers are frozen My t-shirt is on My shorts are all ready But where’s the sun gone? The birds are all singing The buds are all green The blossom is colourful What a lovely scene! Dark glasses are out The zinc cream is here Don’t put it on yet It’s rain I can hear! I’m getting a cold Or hayfever which one This springtime in Tassie It isn’t much fun! Silly Spring Weather Today I will go to the park But oh dear it is very dark So in the next morning I go out and oh dear it is all bright So I go inside, put on my dress and put away my torch And so I fear that this is always in my ear So I go back out and oh dear it is raining for my outing So I wait and HOORAY it went back to bright So I got out for my outing. The Storm The sun was crying The stars were out at noon The water was mad There was a rain storm The house was shaking Suddenly…. The sun came out The house stopped shaking The water was calm And the sun stopped crying The stars only came out at night. A Donkey Day Here comes the rain Falling on the window pane There goes the rain And now it’s sunny again. Rain is coming Rain is going With the change of weather It may as well start snowing. The change of weather makes me say This must be a donkey day. Stormy Pouring down Raining Ice hail Never ending Gone finally. Bye Windy Weather Day after day the wind blows Where it comes from nobody knows Kites tangle, hats fly Smoke billows, clothes mangle. Tree bend, bulb heads bow Bill, tell us of good weather now ‘Tis holiday time for us kids you see Sunshine, blue sky, warm weather suits me. Spring Weather (an acrostic poem) Sun is shining Perfume from the flowers Rain, rain, rain Icicles are melting New growth everywhere Grass is growing. Where has the sun gone Everyone is getting hayfever A bird is singing T-shirts are out Hats are on heads Everyone is happy Rain, rain, rain. Thing Gets a Name Once there was a Thing It was half dog and half giraffe He did not have a name So he went out to fine one. First he asked his friend Horse He said, “Horse, Horse do you know a name that I could have?” Horse said, “What about tall” Thing said, “No thank you, what about my dog half” Horse said, “Oh I never thought about that”. Next he went to his friend Lion “Lion said “Thing, do you know a name that I could have?” “What about woof”, said Lion. Thing said, “What about my giraffe half”. “Oh”, said Lion. Thing had an idea “My name can be Half”, said Half. “Good idea Thing, I mean Half”, said Lion He told everyone his name. This is Grandma’s Poem The wind is rough It blows the trees And in the air Are many leaves Oh how I wish The wind would stop Because it always Makes me sneeze. L….........….........................O……….....…....N……..…….................................G P..........................….O…….....….….E……..…......................….M............flowing L.....................O….….….......N…..……..........…...G free.......................P….........….O…..…......….E…….............….M L…........…O................….N.................….G hazardous...........P…...….....O……..…......E….........….M.............shoals L…......….O…….......….N..............….G submerged..................P….......….O………........E…............….M........reefs L…........….O…….......….N….........….G westward..................P…...............O….…...........E…..............M L...................O....................N...................G P...................O....................E..................M.................eastward L…….........O…................N…........…..G floating…….......P…........….O………........E…...........….M………………..….spilling L…............O…...............N…........…..G gaping.................P…............O….........…...E…..........M................mouth L.................O.................N............G estuarine …………..P…............O…….........E…......M.................shoreline L..............O…….........N…......G headland………………….P............O….........…E..........M …………..…lowland L…........O…............N...........G P....…...O…...........E.........M L….......O…..........N.....G river P.........O….........E....M rolls L .....O….......N....G seaside P.......O….....E....M L.......O........N....G P......O….....E...M L.....O.........N....G pier P....O.........E.....M L…..O…....N.....G P…..O…...E…..M jetty L…...O…...N…..G sand-grit P…...O…...E…...M L......O.......N.......G P.....O.......E........M deep-port L......O......N........G P......O......E........M L….O..….N…...G straitward P.....O......E......M L….O….N….G P…O….E….M L...O….N...G P..O...E…M L .O..N..G breezy P..O..E..M L..O.N..G P.O.E.M l...o..n.g narrow p..o.e.m neck l..o..n..g p.o.e.m l.o..n..g tight p.o.e.m constricted l..o..n..g p...o..e..m l....o.....n....g p....o....e....m gullet l....o....n....g wheeling p...o...e...m l..o...n...g p.o..e..m l....o..n..g p..o..e..m l.o.n.g bridgespan.....................p.o.e.m...................bridgespan long poem long wide poem long poem curves long poem long poem coves long poem long poem long look-out poem long poem winds long winding poem long windy poem long rocky poem long poem reaches long stretches poem long poem long poem long communities poem long poem long bending poem long poem long poem long streamside poem long poem long poem long poem long poem long poem long poem long poem long poem long poem waves long poem long poem long drifting poem long poem long muddy poem long poem long poem long poem silt long poem long water poem long poem long riverbed poem long poem lines long poem embankment long poem long poem long long-line poem long strung-out poem long barbed poem long poem hooks long poem rods long reeling poem long poem net long poem swell long poem long swell poem long poem long poem long outbound poem long poem inbound long poem long poem long tidal poem long poem flow long poem ebb long poem long rising poem long poem pull long poem long poem long poem urge long seaward poem long poem long poem drag long poem long poem long poem long fishy poem long poem long poem gut long poem long poem long poem long poem long current-floating poem long poem long poem long flooded poem long poem long poem feeder-steam long poem long meandering poem long poem long twisting poem long poem turns long sharp poem long poem long wave-rippling poem long poem long poem creatures long poem features long ruffled poem long poem tributary long disgorging poem long poem discharging long poem long poem eloquence long suburban poem long riverbank poem long spirited poem long passionate poem long poem passion long poem emanating long emotional poem long poem harmony long poem discord long discovery poem long poem composed long composite poem long enigmatic poem long journeying poem long wordy poem long emotive poem long poem enjambment long snagged poem long uncharted poem long emulous poem long challenging poem long poem challenge long unique poem long Tamar poem long poem opine long oblique poem unravelling long postcode poem 7250 long cityside poem long poem Launceston l o n g p o e m l o n g o p p e o g m e n l m o o l n g p o e m The Graffiti Watch thinks that the Harris Scarfe window in the Mall is the best art project Launceston has seen, better even than the levee at the skate park. Silly Norbert Julen in The Examinercalled in 'untidy'. Some people should have their eyes put out with hot pokers if they refuse to use them for seeing beauty. There is some obscene writing on walls in the city. Some of it says things like 'Myer' and 'Commonwealth Bank', 'Qantas', 'Vodafone' and 'Chickenfeed'. Nobody ever writes to the paper demanding that it be removed. By the way, the Janie 4 Eva count reached 28, but is now down to 15 thanks to some energetic scrubbing by the forces of blandness. I don't know about you, but I just love the Queue. The Queue of which I speak, two evenings a week, is the major social scene for Launceston. I mean the Film Society Queue. Whatever else you do, you should line up by six, not just to see the flicks, which sometimes aren't that great but just to celebrate a meeting of like minds that winds and winds and winds… We're always there, Us emergency volunteers, We take time from our busy lives, Us emergency volunteers, Spare us a thought if you see us near, Us emergency Volunteers, Cause next time you shed a tear, We'll be there, US EMERGENCY VOLUNTEERS and what does it mean to live on an island anyway? it means one long road of the raised finger salute from steering wheels as one drives past being good neighbours it means loving your enemies who save you when the bush fire comes it means being good neighbours and trying to keep your mouth shut 'cos what comes around goes around though Christ said it better I've lived on dirt roads all my life even when they've been sealed 'cos I've got my parents' memories and their parents too in this land of immigrants where I can't escape the songs of the land telling me stories ' 'cos who I am is where I am and I've seen others escape to the mainland but who doesn't come back it is better to be an exile at homee ask Jesus Christ the island travels with you a knowledge greater that the London Cabbies' there's no such thing as a closed system in my incestuous pool of connections what does not touch me Shakespeare made the crow fly home to the rooky wood. Launceston has neither crows nor rooks But there are suburbs where a black bird by any other name will sing as sweet as Corvus tasmanicus, the forest raven, in whose wood a singer by the name of MML Bliss created Ravo and burnt the songs of a whole suburb into our hearts. But I can sing no more, My songlines mute. Unlike the blackbird in the Bush. From behind the glass of my dusty case in a forgotten museum of Empire, off a London street I stare at those who laugh at me — fleshless skull. So far from the home that they now give a Dutchman`s name. Black bird - Black man. Only Shakespeare could describe what you have done to us. Bring my skull back from London. Back to Launcestown Where my song lines start. | ||
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