Buildings of Melbourne
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Winton swamplands
Blaze
All work is my own and subject to copyright. I do not permit AI to use my work.
Love signs
Each kiss a little longer
hands running through my hair
a massage of my shoulder
a whisper in my ear
hugs are that much tighter
gifts come with thoughtful care
the lifts are so much higher
the intimate things we share
welcome touches when we lie
lingering snuggles tight in bed
brushing tears when we cry
loving words never left unsaid
closing off the world around us
the opening of our own
full of love and trust
a permanent inner glow
holding hands whenever walking
some teasing and much fun
lost in each others eyes when talking
there’s no doubt about true love signs none
Scared of the new summer
It makes pleasurable sense to live in the country
but I am apprehensive about what it means
when the blistering sun and a searing north wind
are set to scorch the earth when they rise again
I am scared of the new summer on days like these
marked for worsening catastrophes
where shimmering heat on the horizon it seems
prefaces the burning of landscapes by fire destined
to scour every countryside rise and glen
I feel the new summer fear rise again
I am scared of the new summer as you should be
when severe climate change dictates choice and activity
Of lovers and madness
Love is oft mad
at least it is common
for those who are in love
to behave madly most often
whether love at first sight
or as an earned right
love’s haze can refuse
the darkest of midnights
to acknowledge or confuse
bright beauteous light
thus driving one to action
bound later for redaction
for as Shakespeare said
in lines wise writ and read
“Things bad and vile, holding no quantity
love can transpose to form and dignity.”
Ref: A Midsummer Night’s Dream II 232-233
The interrobang
I introduce the 60 year old interrobang
the question mark as an exclamation cue
the bang originated as printer’s slang
a punctuation mark infrequently used
query and emphasis are from whence it came
for the enhancement of modern writing
gives use of an interrobang strong claim
a sting in the tail for subjects disquieting
Australian Raven / Crow
I hear the rasping caw of the mortuary bird
alone at the top of a single skeletal tree
black feathered reaper scavenger and restorer
observer for signs of frailty failure and futility
calling to others announcing death as imminent
there at the carrion end of the cycle of life
crow presence at death's arrival is prescient
beak and claw ready to tear and cut like a knife
the murderous flock train beady eyes on their prey
awaiting the moment they can safely descend
they utter hexes for stillness at the meat of the day
aware their role is to share in marking the end
Tableland Talk April 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
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.
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.
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
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
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
Emerald
A shimmering emerald light I saw aloft
in afternoon’s glow a flickering on and off
with twisting turns it flashed colour at me
I transfixed watched closely to see
windy flutterings of swamp gum leaves
on one branch hung these sunlight thieves
eucalyptus greens greys and blues they waved
their pretty dance to me they gave
Betrayal
Where did that government find such murderous intent
imprisoning and shooting their own wherever they went
exercising ruthless summary force
while advising its citizens they have no choice
venomous lies from forked tongues they let rip
their smirking mouths toxic with poisonous lips
vile spittle sprayed from the lips of autocracy
blurs the vision of the masses with talk of democracy
all the while weaponising the rule of law
where justice is now held in the tight grip of a claw
a new dark age is coming where information is missed
where manipulated voters are swayed by each Judas kiss
Mud
This river of mud
it comes to no good
when it spreads on the plains
or surges through the woods
when it rises in the towns
or breaks dams where it would
this river of mud
is never any good
they throw the mud
they make the mud stick
weather
whether there is mud to throw
splattered thin or cement thick
and I see the mud
it makes me feel sick
a vitriolic flood
of slander and lies
sinking reasonable opposition
no due process applies
Writing
I write forwards
you write back
you tell me where we have been
where we should be
I write of where I’m going to be
and you are not a character in that book
poetography.ink 