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Notes from Hong Kong
Small and huge; Modern backed up against tradition. Tallest buildings reminisce Over and above Their vertically challenged forebears; Each climbing up To new, Undiscovered airs, Like a 3D graph Recording the good and bad times. Reclaimed and growing; Creeping land Pushes out the sea, And brings the mainland closer. Top floor tenements Hold occupants prisoner, While the streets below Boast freedom and neon. Bamboo scaffolding Bound with plastic ties Decorate hotel exteriors Bearing English names Amongst their Chinese counterparts. Double decker buses, Legacies of an institution Teeter around, Transporting tourist And citizen. A conglomeration of the best And worst. |
Letter from Melbourne
Forgotten how alive Chapel St is. Sunday...cafes and restaurants, Cuddling up to each other In 17degrees of cool. Cat Stevens, plays in the corner And almost no one notices. Pressed metal ceilings, Lead light and wall size panels Of clear glass separate tram lines And goosebumps from inner diners; Outer diners at tables Made just for Melbournians. Orchid flowers grace wooden tables And 1970 soda bottles Grace the shelf Above the kitchen, Observed by equally retrospective clocks, All telling different tales. Sharp and hot, Chilli catches in the throat As it sails around the voices, Cooking sizzles And the ever, 'Ready Bell.' Aah Chapel Street. Leap…leap into the unfamiliar. Take it on because everything…
everything is as it should be. |
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Letter from Vernazza
I wish I could capture The sound of voices In conversation Over the clinking Of cutlery on plates And clatter of plate on plate And sudden laughter And small children Running away from parents, Squealing in happy fear Of being caught And the water rhythmically Lapping at the beach And small pebbles rolling Over each other And the breeze of the evening And birds settling for the night And the holiday warmth And the aroma Of smokey cucinas And fish And bread And leaves Clicking their way Across the cement paving Of the piazza And the late night train Rushing into a tunnel And the light, Soft in the sunset And street lamps High on the shuttered buildings And the flashes of cameras Capturing still moments And the church bells Rewarding us For not wearing watches And reminding us Of each half hour passing And the murmur of lovers. I wish I could capture that. |
Notes from Amsterdam
Quite mornings meet homecomers and outgoers. Waftings to the street lead to cafes inviting injestments and inhalements. Doorways of a different nature lead to psychedelia, Live window mannequins partially dressed pose and pucker, Laughter everywhere, Canals, bridges, Streets and bicycles, Bicycles and cars, Bicycles and people, Roads become footpaths Become cycle paths Become roads, Open and unperturbed, Work is done. The sun brings colour And smiles And outdoors, Late evening drinks, Friendship, all eager For light and shade, Music on the street And the Venice of Holland Coolly moves to Jazz notes Of syncopation, Unexpected and unrepeatable.
Green I do not know all the colours, shades or tones of green stabbing at my eyes with new and different dimensions, slipping by without even pausing to give me a second chance at naming them, holding them, imprisoning them, to confine forever more… What crime is that when the freedom of namelessness is ambushed, to be from that point on, forever known as green? |
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Notes from No 7.
Roses budding with the promise of Summer Pansies and Primroses shout to each other, Jonquils and Daffodils nod out of time. Cow Parsley, in with Ivy climbs. Upwardly Tulips, Magnolia candles, Face to the sun; no need for spangles. Hawthorn leaves and Hyacinths flower, Heady scents to overpower. Green lawn threads Boast Dandelion heads And peppering of purple ardent Creates Bluebell’s lacy garment. Blackbirds and Robins, Magpies and Possums, Starlings, Tits and Chats Share the love of Granny’s garden Out of the reach of cats. Infant Fox curled in sleep And a Deer so small and lovely, All visiting Granny's garden A pearly place of discovery |
The Noisy Invaders
A moment in time faraway there was a land that wasn't happy with the way the noisy invaders used it all up and did nothing to nurture and care for it for its future. The original caretakers who loved and cherished the land were now so few that their voices couldn't be heard above the noisy invaders. The land was very cross and so one day decided to stop raining. Oh how the noisy invaders cried. When the land was dry enough, it decided to start a fire which was not extinguished for a long time. Year after year it burned as it swept through all the land. Oh how the noisy invaders cried. When the fire stopped, the land was tired and had no energy to stop the rain anymore. The land rained and rained and filled up the rivers and lakes. And it said to the noisy invaders...I am giving you a second chance. I will fill my rivers and lakes and I will allow you to live here. I only ask that you look after me and care for me. Only then we will be able to live together. 2020 - Never seen so many butterflies since the earth's
engine ceased. |
Didn't finish this one...
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To the government…
Interest rates are soaring higher Something else has got to go One less loaf or pint of milk Keep me head in tight and low. Forget the bike I’d planned for Christmas It’s too hot to ride anyhow I’d catch a bus if I could afford it Oh Johnny, you’ve caused a right old row. The electric bill has to wait Oh well, candles give nicer hue Stitch me tights up one more time Stick a bandaid over me shoes. If women came to run this country Things’d be better by tons We’d fuck off wars and useless laws Plus GST on tampons. As it is we’re stuck with it I’m feeling oh so glum You wonder if I’ll vote for you Well stick it up your bum. |
To the opposition…
So you think that you’ll do better Well that remains to be seen I’m willing to bet you’re all the same Culturally inept and socially mean. It’s all very well spouting forth But I wonder what’s on your agenda Weak willed and unwilling to spend To strengthen race and gender. Don't fill in space Between moments With thoughts. Fill it with fun. |
Today I went to the seaside with a bottle to sit;
To feel my inner while I observed my outer.
And I write
I am alone and I am lonely.
I feel this as I sit on the tidal sands with Moreton Island clear in my view.
I feel this sitting amongst thousands of tiny balls of sand meticulously rolled by the thousands of soldier crabs high stepping across the rippled surface.
I feel this as I drink wine from Adelaide Hills.
I feel this as I perch on a fold out stool, my feet secure in gumboots.
I feel this as the tide awaits the signal to commence its journey back into shore.
I feel this as the clouds decide whether to be dramatic in the setting sun or simply flatten out to provide a grey/white ceiling under a baby blue roof.
I feel this as my shadow shows me my form stooped over these notes.
I feel this as afternoon voices carry across the salty puddles and sandy ripples.
I feel this as the breeze carries the sound of the incoming tide lapping at the undulating mounds of leftover mangroves
I feel this as afternoon light illuminates the whiteness of the jetty while it walks out into the bay.
I feel this as a dog owner enthusiastically encourages his charge to “do a bit of crabbing”.
I feel this as I’m on my third glass.
I feel empty.
I feel this while lovers stroll among the tiny whitecaps.
I feel this as seagulls chastise each other over a lost chip.
I feel this as another aeroplane makes its intended descent beyond the jetty.
I feel this as a rainbow shyly exposes its colours through a curtain of rain.
I feel this as squeals of toddlers make their way to me on the afternoon breeze.
I feel this as a masked lapwing protests loudly at oncoming walkers.
I feel this as a sea eagle perches on a pole too far away to read what it says.
I feel this as two blue bodied soldier crabs stand belly to belly with nature’s bravado till they scuttle into a safe place…
It’s cool now
I feel this as lorikeets squawk while they settle into nesting spots for evening rituals.
I feel this as I try to smile.
I feel this as I look around at the houses on cliffs bordering the bay.
I feel this as I make the decision.
I feel this as I go back.
To feel my inner while I observed my outer.
And I write
I am alone and I am lonely.
I feel this as I sit on the tidal sands with Moreton Island clear in my view.
I feel this sitting amongst thousands of tiny balls of sand meticulously rolled by the thousands of soldier crabs high stepping across the rippled surface.
I feel this as I drink wine from Adelaide Hills.
I feel this as I perch on a fold out stool, my feet secure in gumboots.
I feel this as the tide awaits the signal to commence its journey back into shore.
I feel this as the clouds decide whether to be dramatic in the setting sun or simply flatten out to provide a grey/white ceiling under a baby blue roof.
I feel this as my shadow shows me my form stooped over these notes.
I feel this as afternoon voices carry across the salty puddles and sandy ripples.
I feel this as the breeze carries the sound of the incoming tide lapping at the undulating mounds of leftover mangroves
I feel this as afternoon light illuminates the whiteness of the jetty while it walks out into the bay.
I feel this as a dog owner enthusiastically encourages his charge to “do a bit of crabbing”.
I feel this as I’m on my third glass.
I feel empty.
I feel this while lovers stroll among the tiny whitecaps.
I feel this as seagulls chastise each other over a lost chip.
I feel this as another aeroplane makes its intended descent beyond the jetty.
I feel this as a rainbow shyly exposes its colours through a curtain of rain.
I feel this as squeals of toddlers make their way to me on the afternoon breeze.
I feel this as a masked lapwing protests loudly at oncoming walkers.
I feel this as a sea eagle perches on a pole too far away to read what it says.
I feel this as two blue bodied soldier crabs stand belly to belly with nature’s bravado till they scuttle into a safe place…
It’s cool now
I feel this as lorikeets squawk while they settle into nesting spots for evening rituals.
I feel this as I try to smile.
I feel this as I look around at the houses on cliffs bordering the bay.
I feel this as I make the decision.
I feel this as I go back.
What goes through the mind of a bird as it stands still; leg up or leg down, but still. Not washing or mowing, not cooking or ironing, not shopping or weeding...Just standing…sitting… still.
Since the introduction and heavy use of weasel words (WWs) and acronyms, I sometimes found I didn't have a clue what was actually being said. This is the result of an idea to create ONE sentence using only WWs and punctuation to give meaning.
I'd like to say a few words to you, the key stakeholders in leadership initiatives around the upcoming
Annual General Meeting and workshop covering a particularly stimulating topic entitled Analysing and Interpreting the Goals Matrix 2007 and in a slight sideways shift to the progression of the thoroughly entertaining expressions of art and culture this evening, a follow-up with a brief Power Point presentation about the pro activity and best practice of HR and WH&S around core business activities committed to the assessment regime, while recognising the value-added social capital selflessly injected by the seemingly inexhaustible waged and un-waged personnel, as well as the monitoring and reporting of the project facilitation on plausible deniability of personal business commitment to behavioural accountabilities and conclude with the targeted operational release of the risk analysis assessment of 'decruitment' and subsequent rightsizing of this gargantuan asset footprint in this dedicated, customer-centric centre which is delivering a variety of enhanced product offerings that we, across the board, are privileged to have had installed, with little or no aspirational vanity, soundly directed and ably engineered by a compassionate, intelligent, altruistic idea hamster, in conjunction with the strategic plan, a magnificent circle of strength, support at the demand end of the spectrum and all resourced by the extremely welcome but tragically shallow pool of funding, and so when someone like that, decides that they are no longer able to sit in on endless talk-fests because of fear of tipping over into glazing, courtesy of the demise of our language as we know it, then it is time for their uninstallation before the onset of Dorito Syndrome and subsequent flight risk, which would be of great negative community outcome.
Annual General Meeting and workshop covering a particularly stimulating topic entitled Analysing and Interpreting the Goals Matrix 2007 and in a slight sideways shift to the progression of the thoroughly entertaining expressions of art and culture this evening, a follow-up with a brief Power Point presentation about the pro activity and best practice of HR and WH&S around core business activities committed to the assessment regime, while recognising the value-added social capital selflessly injected by the seemingly inexhaustible waged and un-waged personnel, as well as the monitoring and reporting of the project facilitation on plausible deniability of personal business commitment to behavioural accountabilities and conclude with the targeted operational release of the risk analysis assessment of 'decruitment' and subsequent rightsizing of this gargantuan asset footprint in this dedicated, customer-centric centre which is delivering a variety of enhanced product offerings that we, across the board, are privileged to have had installed, with little or no aspirational vanity, soundly directed and ably engineered by a compassionate, intelligent, altruistic idea hamster, in conjunction with the strategic plan, a magnificent circle of strength, support at the demand end of the spectrum and all resourced by the extremely welcome but tragically shallow pool of funding, and so when someone like that, decides that they are no longer able to sit in on endless talk-fests because of fear of tipping over into glazing, courtesy of the demise of our language as we know it, then it is time for their uninstallation before the onset of Dorito Syndrome and subsequent flight risk, which would be of great negative community outcome.