Tableland Talk April 2025
4
Monthly Archives: March 2025
Welcome
From Southbank
enter Melbourne on a bright yellow footbridge
under which the slow brown river flows
cross the river pass Flinders St station
walk your way to the parliamentary ridge
you will pass the most diverse of nations
every ethnicity, every colour and language
and generally we live harmoniously
although some would have it otherwise
I swear they would have us live in catastrophe
but I refuse to cooperate with their lies
15 minutes at the tram stop
The tram it is late the line it is clear
except for the gig riders in their weatherproof gear
the pedestrians dodge each other prop and weave
the boy on the kerb wipes his nose on his sleeve
the pigeons peck at spilt food on the street
lovers embrace and kiss when they meet
a young couple argue about where they should go
an old couple look sadly at the carnival show
that washes before them like the waves at high tide
where the truth is the water but the water lied
and the city is a victim in the coils of a snake
the people are uncertain is this dream or awake
the man on the seat nearby smells of alcohol and sweat
his hair is matted his shoes are wet
and seagulls circle looking for something to steal
from trailing children with chip bags they conceal
there’s a dashing young man dressed up to kill
and a dazzling young woman sexualised to the hilt
a girl sitting on the path is blackened to the core
blackened teeth blackened eyes blackened soul blackened jaw
the sky it is ruby splattered with pearls
of sun setting starlets in blonde locks and curls
it’s a festival of side shows coloured and brash
where faux credit has all but replaced cash
where art is artificial made by machines
where the grifters come to realise their schemes
a homeless woman drags herself past unstable and slow
and I’m ready so ready to go go go
The other side of the mountain
The mountain ahead was a really big deal
with trees on its flanks but few flat green fields
up on the ridges were sharp flinty stones
this was the path I must travel alone
all through my young life I believed what they said
crossing the mountain was folly many ended up up dead
I dreamed of the mountain most every night
in my dreams of the mountain I looked up and took flight
over the mountain I did range I did soar
over the mountain I sought release from remorse
I scoured the slopes and I scoured the crown
but I saw little and little I found
my dreams fell shattered and broke on the ground
I determined I must climb by foot from the town
I wandered for days on flat lands for a time
before reaching the base of the mountainous climb
the gentle foot hills were covered with flowers
the meadows were rich I crossed them in hours
the mountain itself was immediately steep
the forest was thick the scree cut my feet
I had to use switchbacks many miles for a few
only meters in altitude gained daily as I drew
toward the top of the mountain’s ragged sharp peak
in crisp snow and cold air were answers I did seek
I reached the summit with its razor sharp edge
I looked on the other side from a dizzying ledge
and what did I find on this remote outlook
enough for a page enough for a book
I found enough to shake me and to realise
that my thinking was blinkered by my very own lies
my remorse was false a craven escape
from fear of the truth in me now awake
I had thought it would be different on the other side
but all I discovered was another brutal slide
and that I did not need to climb to be true
I needed to scramble all the way back down to you
to say I am sorry for the harm that I did
to understand the hurt that occurred when I fled
I am sorry for the struggle the wounds that I gave
I beg for forgiveness if there is any to be saved
Frank Poems
(For Rain)
Written as a tribute to 1960s New York poet, Frank O'Hara.
On February 26
in the year of 2025
Rain brought Frank O’Hara to The Motley
for a short while he was reborn
in another place
in another time
where the words of other worlds and other times
are allowed to be reborn
and encouraged to live on
I had forgotten the name Frank O’Hara
until Rain reminded me of the small orange and blue 1964 book I had recently been dipping into
and here he was again
speaking again
speaking through Rain
being spoken of
the book is called “Lunch Poems”
I had come to think of him as a street poet
an observation recorder
but he is also a nonsense, a blender, a masher of words
a poet whose name I hadn’t quite yet fully retained
but I had sort of retained what he was doing at the time
Rain suggested I go and visit him on YouTube
I found some short and grainy black and white film recordings of him reciting and explaining his work
we take such things for granted
but it felt miraculous to be in the room with him in those moments
I wished I could talk with him
still I absorbed what he read and said and I dare to paraphrase here
Poems
poems
are made of words
the words don’t have to mean anything
poems are the vehicles
for words
to create a feeling
you can mix up words
in any way
as long as the feeling comes out
and stays
Growth from bones
Dedicated to Codi and her dog
I’m all alone
in the cemetery lot
I need growth from bones
so I’ll take a plot
beside the friends I dig
I’ll form a skeletal assembly line
something cadaverous and big
to build a ghostly host refined
I’ll nurture them with fellowship
we’ll dance to death metal music
arisen from this macabre landfill tip
atop our graveyard homes
we’ll shake and rattle
them fresh grown bones
Walking and Rolling Together
For the past three years I have had the pleasure of leading the Walking and Rolling Together project for identifying, assessing, photographing and describing potential accessible walking / rolling paths across our wonderful state of Victoria.
Victoria Walks’ unique audit tool, developed and co-designed by people with disability, and its application to the co-auditing process by and for people with disability, has resulted in seventy metro, regional and rural accessible walking / rolling paths being published as digital accessible walking / rolling maps.
We have made the audit tool free to download and use for discovering more accessible walking and rolling paths. It would be applicable anywhere in the world.
The project is coming to a close. People with disability and carers can now look up an accessible walking / rolling map and find out all about the accessible features. We are promoting this work as far and wide as we can to encourage everyone to share the accessible walking maps, to get outdoors and to enjoy nature.
We have created this resource for everyone. There is no doubt, walking and rolling can deliver amazing experiences as well as great health and wellbeing outcomes.
Sulphur-crested Cockatoos in silhouette
Cockatoos walk the walk
they are smart and bold
they talk the talk
human or squawk
they are social and caring
for others in the flock
they live for decades
100 years they can clock
Bogie autumn
It has been a long, harsh, hot summer. Softening autumn light is finally here. Hopefully, consistently cooler weather is to follow soon.
Trust, hope and happiness
“Our hearts long to trust and be trusted.” Karl Jaspers.
What is the human world without trust? It is a world of lies and deceit that has lost its common purpose. Only in sharing the truth can there be trust. Without trust there can be no hope, no true happiness.
Every one of us seeks trust. If we feel we can no longer find it in our leaders or institutions, we must seek it out in each other. It is there we will find trust, hope and happiness.
Fire me
Fire me
because I hate this job
the work is menial
the owners are snobs
my self esteem
they are trying to rob
resigning won’t cut it
because Centrelink stinks
they’ll stop any payments
for weeks and weeks
so I’m trapped in this lousy job
I did not want anyway
they forced me to take it
though I wanted more pay
but who am I to say
I’m worth more pay
when the alternative is
no welfare paydays
while seeking the work
I am qualified for
as opposed to dismissal
or a lost file in a drawer
so I press button one
I press button two
slicing foam for packaging
it’s all I need do
when due for a break
a mountain of off cuts I climb
in my dead time
and I bounce on my bum
to the tinnitus hum
of factory machinery
that means nothing to me
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
Cycle of life
I wonder if I will ever get back on my bikes
free to ride wherever I like
living with arthritis is a constant pain
I do hope I get to ride again
luckily I can write to fill my time
put some cycling photography into rhyme
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
Open
I want to open my heart to you, talk every thing through about -
you and me
I want to open my windows, yell my love to the world, shout it out -
you will see
I want to open my door, run out, leap and dance and sing of us -
I can be
every bit enough for you, completely one with our two -
that’s the key.
So, say you’ll be mine
until the end of time
and everything will be fine
just fine, just fine
divine
The dVerse prompt for Poetics this week is from Dora. She asks wee poets to give our take on the romance of the open window through your poetry.
sea talk
Talk to me about the sea
of sand drift and sea breeze murmurings
of tidal sliding and wavelets gliding
onto a peaceful shore
of curling surf and whale songs
of towering waves and sailor’s graves
of a blow driven chop hard to cross
and the constant desire for more
of rock pool eddies of a wind unsteady
of sudden squalls and risking all
of unpredictable storms defying norms
of salty landless freedom
of reflected moonlight and sunsets bright
of dolphins playing and albatross staying
of cutting the water and catching fish
of life in Neptune’s kingdom
of thunderheads piled high or a cloudless sky
of seabirds arriving splashing and diving
of phosphorescent wake so easy to take
of distant horizons all around
tell me tales about the briny sea
how to travel a weather filled journey
crossing oceans wide upon the tide
and I’ll take you where I’m bound
Brother, I still grieve
I watched him as we sat upon the deck of the sinking ship
the stern about to dip
our chairs starting to slip
our hands white in their grip
he wondered where we would be tomorrow
he stood as fires erupted upon the tilting deck
walked around the wreck
sought every way to check
for escape that he did seek
only to find himself on the rails of sorrow
the water now was rushing over both our cold wet feet
with no sign of relief
in sadness and in grief
life’s surging wild thief
he told me he wished well for his wife and children
I looked at him I took him into embracing arms
no protection here from harm
just wishing to disarm
anxiety and alarm
one last moment of loving calm
when going under the waves was the only given
we held each other standing there on the edge of fading hope
to the horizon we did look
to the water of our grave
cold and churning were the waves
then into each others eyes
resigned to our good byes
we held hands before stepping forward
the last things I remember are treading water in my doubt
the water in my mouth
the imminent blackout
wishing I’d never roamed
my loved ones left at home
wishing I’d never sailed
slipping under as strength failed
his tired smile as we fell
that I forgot to tell him how much I loved him
then came the wings of rescue they winched me up into the sun
I the chosen one
the sky it turned to gold
but I had lost my hold
on my brother and my friend
who supported me to the end
all I could think was how much I’m going to miss him
it’s been ten watery years passing underneath my bridge
I’m wasted and I’m damaged
with nothing left to salvage
I relive our time together
the fractured brother tether
brothers ever a pair
ever together everywhere
and here I am still left with no way of knowing
how I can go on without my brothers song
days are dark and long
I think it’s time I must be going
underneath the waves
my lonely soft parade
in hope that I will find
my brother left behind
always on my mind
I want to join him on death’s seas a rowing
together across the waves
nothing in it brave
just our watery grave
and our time together saved
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not want AI to use my work.
Night hunting
Hooting to acknowledge
others hunting there
camouflaging plumage
prey beware
soundless flight
beak and claws to tear
night vision adept
anywhere
hooting acknowledges
others hunting there
dancing with abandon
a nightclub lair
drinking jugs of alcohol
teeth are bared
faux charm awooing
without care
De Jackson from dVerse asked we poets to post a Quadrille (44 word poem) using any form of the word “hoot”.
Seagull view
Did you see the seagull
standing on the lamp post
looking at the scenery
taking in the view
ooh ooh
Liars and triers
The chairs were blue and black
the floor was speckled grey
the squat square tables
were printed wood grain
with aqua painted rays
most of what was said at the tables was untrue
the rendezvous of lovers
straight or gay affairs
were clandestine betrayals
nothing here was fair
the wilful and the wicked
the ribald and those plain dumb
came together here
for more pain or simple fun
few considered the consequences of their lies
there was a girl slender
a blonde slash across her her chest
a long ponytail from her shoulder
hung between her breasts
her sharp pencilled brown eyebrows
contradicted her eyes
which were as ill defined
as concrete slurry skies
dull grey as shattered shale
they certainly lacked registration
of the interest of the boy opposite
of his panting or condition
she was as forgiving as she was a true blonde
her date was a smallish young man
with waves of cascading auburn hair
framing a long straight nose
above a jutting jawline where
underneath his struggling beard
his tongue would have been hanging out
if it wasn’t for his jutting jaw
of that there is no doubt
he tried to be interested in her words
but a lusting body made him waver
he talked in a desperate way
with a flushed look and a quaver
there was nothing honest about the words he had to say
the family with the teenage daughter
amused she wanted gin
insisted she drink water
but the barman slipped it in
after a few more gins were taken
he met her later outside
her innocence was lost
as he took her for a ride
ashamed at her naivety ever after she denied
the chefs wore haircuts
chiselled short back and sides
engraved by the cutter with glyphs
that meant nothing but misguided pride
everyone of them had a goatee
of one length or another
growing wiry out of cratered skin
and a top knot tied with leather
these bound them all as brothers
but this was no family they were in
they fried, they tossed and flipped
like cooking still food was a sin
most of that was kitchen trickery
it was only for the show
to impress all the customers
who didn't care or want to know
the "Only the freshest ingredients" sign was blemished and rotting
the waitress was run off her feet
she had black skin and a black tank top
she looked trim naked and neat
and nothing could make her stop
her apron was black
it was stiff as a card
her cheekbones were ebony
razors high and hard
her gold plastic glasses
amplified deep black eyes
that reflected artificial moons
from the fake silvery sky
skimming the muddy boards
a note pad for orders clear
she attended to demand
pencilling a multi ear-ringed ear
everything she told customers was fiction
the ceiling was low the ceiling was false
the abundant cupboards were bare
the cash drawer opened with a jolt
the counterfeit was there
behind a dado of artificial pine
casual bar staff were busy mixing
the bar top a deep black lacquered shine
liquid with glasses spilling and clinking
the spirit shelves held coloured water
the air was synthetic scented air
the alcohol was inferior elixir
the bar tenders challenged with a stare
every stare they glared was full of contempt and deceit
everyone in the room was scared
scared of honesty
scared of respect
scared of integrity, dignity and truth
scared because they were there
to be looked at
scared to look
scared of the culture that
required they all pretend
scared to be
someone else in the end
FOMO
RL 21.500 is a line in the sand
between two opposing camps
which one will make the first move?
it is going to happen AAM
(At Any Moment)
don't look away
or you might miss it
Trouble
I was loitering on the corner after friends had dropped me there
I didn’t go nowhere because I was scared
I felt it coming a fright and a fear
as if it was my last year
and when it finally fell upon me the anticipated dread
I wished I had stayed at home in my warm and cosy bed
the devil in his black coat to me he came and said
I’m gonna frame you
I looked around but I couldn’t see anything of a crime
I waited there longer I waited some extra time
there was nothing to give me a clue no flashing sign
that my whole world was a turning
when she pulled up in her long bright shiny yellow hearse
I avoided her stare as if it was a curse
but eventually she prevailed with a promise to reimburse
me for my trouble
we drove to the mountain right to the very top
when we got there she made the hearse come to a stop
right at the edge by a long steep drop
I exclaimed I was scared of heights
she got out of the car came round and opened my door
I didn’t see her coming cos I was looking at the floor
she pulled me out with the strength of two or three or four
and dumped me on the dirt by the barriers
I struggled as she prepared to throw me into the abyss
but then she bent to give me my first Judas kiss
I knew what was coming so I ducked and she missed
I pushed her in the chest
and she swayed backwards
little did I know that she would unbalance then
I watched her teetering on the edge until when
she fell to her death
just as god sent
me a message
he said to get out of there because things weren't looking pretty
I didn’t need no message I as tore across the city
my mind was in turmoil full of self pity
I found a little hideaway a little dirty a little gritty
and laid low until things blew over
ever since that day I’ve been creeping around the town
all nervous and alone again I’ve been going round
worried the cops would do me over and when I would be found
but my life became fortunate and stable
the lord moves in mysterious ways around my little hangout
but in my mind there really is no skerrick of a doubt
he saved me twice from death and the devil without
my ever understanding anyways how or about
I ever got to be in so much trouble
Stealth tram
the stealth tram
nobody can
catch easily
because in camouflage
it arrives stealthily
Testing Trump
When trouble comes an immediate aggressive reaction such as an emotionally driven attack often appears to be a satisfyingly vengeful, moral or honourable response.
Alternatively, assessing risk and acting accordingly makes good sense, responding mindfully and proportionately. Maybe a change to your behaviour, a tweak of an existing plan. Maybe putting your head down for a while, keeping your nose clean, waiting for things to blow over before again checking the lie of the land.
So, try to take a breath, just a moment, weigh up the immediate consequences. We all have to survive to achieve anything.
The longer term strategic approach may not harm your perceived opponent in the moment, cover you in glory or restore your honour. However, it may well deliver the most satisfying and right outcome for the future accompanied by enduring benefits.
Mr Trump, how smart are you really? Making America Great Again appears to have been a smart and useful local catchcry for getting elected to power in the present. It will mean nothing if you don't choose to work with other global leaders to save the whole planet for the future!
Native Daphne
Budding native Daphne
very quickly had me
on my knees
if you please
with camera focussing
happily
In Forests #01
In forests we go walking to find the time for talking
to take us away from the city hustle ever stalking
I meet you on love’s wings at the perimeter of meadows
and I love you all the more as we enter soft green forest shadows
we take the paths less trodden to open new forest doors
we find our way to high places to meres and rugged moors
the ferns they point our way with glistening fronds a waving
guiding us through the timeless forest we find ourselves a weaving
hand in hand we travel each a lovestruck wandering Gypsy
this time this place alone together precious magical and carefree
sun rays light the glades with golden shafts of wonder
we look aloft, laugh and dance beneath the forest grandeur
we lie down on forest beds and let our fingers do some walking
our hands our lips our tongue tips put a silence to the talking
again the language of forest love begins and with it our renewal
I’ll always be your forest love you my cherished forest jewel
when the forest loving is done and we must find our way back home
we’ll look forward to more forest talking and forest loving yet to come
White crane blue glass
white crane meets blue glass
red coils and tram lines
stop look can't pass
compose image and refine
photo taken general view
enjoy the process
and the shot too
poetography.ink 