Pop would be proud of you

Cutting and screwing timber

To iron wrought

Rescued from the past

Stretching muscle and sinew

Measuring the man

Who will become

Slowly the fire takes smoke

From the breath of a dying man

Time flows slowly

As you take your last breaths

Days dull and sparks fly

 As new life blooms

Growing short from the flame

Like the myth

Truth emerges from his chair

All that is left are the bones

Like in Varanasi

Ashes to Ashes

Then, ripping hearts

In the fabric of chests

Time passes on 

That tree again

Bloody decisions have to be made

As spindly stalks slowly grow

Afraid of the cold

Will it live to see another day

Brokering memories

Deep and delicate

Laid to rest for too soon

Watching are the trees

Looking to the stars

During the middle of the day

They came in light and heat

Slowly, but in the puberty of life

Amongst the rocks

Then into history

Slowly un-blooming

Fifty shades of grey in the sun 

Sheman/Semen/Sharman

Drifting in a haze of delight

Suddenly awoken from curly dreams

Stark reality sets in

What emerges from the grass

In the splatter of indulgence

Looking like grey hairy curl

Around the girly giant

Braless, legless, harmless

Pink Crocs discretely placed

Inside its underpants

Other parts exposed

To the passing trade

What the f*** 

Beastie

Golden as a bee beavering

Moving immovable rocks

Slashing from blades athunder

Ripping moisture from the soil

Puffing and huffing in the key of B flat

Roaring like Mustafa howling at the moon

Wonders never cease

How can such a beast have such a soft touch

Yet be crushed in spirit

Mistiques hold sway

In the mist frankly

Kissing the soil

Talking in riddles

Fiddling with dials

Cluttering down

Landing on the lake

Filled by 3 mm of rain

Slowly, oh so slowly

It sinks into its watery grave

Into the slime

In order be seen

It’s eyes peer above the meniscus

Hiding in Plane site

On a meadow

Blending into Boronia

Buds hiding in the long grass

Bovine noses peer deeply

Into the core of colour

Fragrance sits heavily on hand

Rusting fire breathe

It’s rough slashing leaves

Threshing stems amid the mayhem

Our MF sits

Watching for its chance

To run amok

In a field

Hiding in plain sight 

Mixo

Ruffled

Feathers floating

On the breeze

Barn owls

Lie awake at night

Before striking

Rabbits

In burrows

Burying their heads

Times change

Back to the past

Opening a can of worms

it worked before

Will it work again

Mixo galore

Time will tell

Will they live or

Will they die

What a hoot

waiting to see

How much is a rare bit

Braidwood October 2024 

KIN, KEN & KUNTRY

IT BEGINS

Nights around the radio
Dials would turn
So would talk about Walking About

Lazy eyes
Saw the land
To be had
For houses, churches

Wide open spaces
Were slaughtering
Baiame
One way or another

Life for some was bereft
For those that look for
Kin, Ken & Kuntry

HARDLY FRANK
Never let the truth

Get in the way
Of a smoke
Spoke Frank

Chasing Power
Without
Chasing Glory
With a story

At Martin’s Place

All night poking
Fun at Pigs
Daring spite
Seeking a fight
Others to flight

PORKING CHARLIE

On the long-haul bus
Those left behind
Sauntering

We still are

Honi Soit
Place to start
Voices of the dark

Taken by road
Better than God
Breaking down doors
For a beer

First stop hell
For many
Then thereafter
Lost along their Song-line

Wasting for the doors to open
If you can last that long

FEEL THE COUNTRY
They came, they conquered
Freeing the Country
From its yolk

Breaking heads, like shells
Roasting, raping and reaping
Spreading blood and terror

Reptilian giants
Emerge…