ASF Poetry Thread

[noirua]

..........

Only difference between those two, 2020, is that Hitler forgot to smile and always be polite and friendly to people, whilst burning 6 million in the gas chambers.

 

[2020hindsight]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesha
http://dictionary.reference.com/

Hey , if anyone wants to know about a brilliant "word-finder" - try this website , whether for a poem, or even for more interesting / different vocab or different way to say something in a letter .

http://www.rhymezone.com/?loc=top !!

synonyms,
antonyms,
related words
similar sounding words
homophones
match consonants only
match 'these' letters
check spelling

also
- get pictures (which I've never used but probably will in future )
- check quotes (Bible or Shakespeare in particular) (ditto)

This "Rhyming Dictionary" (imo) can save you a heap of time.

Note that I searched for for the keyword "camel" (and pressed "go get it")

Note also the subtle difference between Matthew 19:24 and Shakespeare's Richard II in the quote about camels and needles eyes etc, viz :-

19:24 And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through
the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of
God.

HEY - If the XAO keeps going up !! we're all headed for the other place !! lol -

(with Fred Nile's gays lol)

KING RICHARD II: I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world:
And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
With scruples and do set the word itself
Against the word:

As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,

'It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'

Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?

 

[2020hindsight]

They also have several quizes there
eg Famous Shakepeare lines such as this , lol

http://www.rhymezone.com/r/dz.cgi?ch=2&s=1184420639&p=shakelines&cmd=ans

Famous line: The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

Your choice?

Hamlet: III, i
Julius Caesar: III, i
Hamlet: III, ii
King Henry VI, part II: IV, ii

heck sounds a bit extremist lol -


Here's one I just made up ;;; - neednt be Shakespeare

Famous line: What do I care about the law? Hain't I got the power?

Your choice?

Cornelius Vanderbilt 1794 - 1877
George W Bush
Julius Caesar: III, i
Elma Fudd
John Wayne
Nero

answer ? - clue is CV. - but those picking any of the othres also get some points

https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/search.php?searchid=514400
CLUES AND GUESS WHO .......

I act like I've seen it, I sound like I mean it, my Forebear got caught in the nud,
I go for long walks wearing big baggy shorts, At 5 foot they drag in the mud,
I stammer when pulling a wabbit from tophats, or core-pwomise carrots from cwud,
half Point for John Howard (the wallflower flowered) , and One if you said ELMA FUDD.

 

[2020hindsight]

Since I screwed up posting the link to Elma Fudd, I'll post the entire poem

Relevance of the following ? lol - well we all seem to be casting dispersions about this or that politician- thought I'd give you my opinion of the lot of em

CLUES AND GUESS WHO

I'll give you some clues, - (this game is a duzy) - and You have to guess who I mean -....
I love super-unions, I love union super, and Now i'm just plain super keen;
I smile a great deal, I grin with great zeal, I love a good blue but Im green,
Well, Simon Crean gets you a third of a point, for Full points you need MR BEAN.

I act like I've seen it, I sound like I mean it, my Forebear got caught in the nud,
I go for long walks wearing big baggy shorts, At 5 foot they drag in the mud,
I stammer when pulling a wabbit from tophats, or core-pwomise carrots from cwud,
half Point for John Howard (the wallflower flowered) , and One if you said ELMA FUDD.

I'm chubby and jolly, a bit prone to folly, My friends think I act a bit weasily,
I sat on a wall just awaiting the call, My mates pushed me forward quite queezily;
It fell to the caucus, to rabid and raucusly Pull me to pieces quite easily,
The answer is DUMPTY, my Christian name's HUMPTY ,Half points if you wrote down Kim Beazley.

Well Just for a tease, I'll make this one easy- I'm often away out of towner,
I Pulled out a plum from under my tongue, I'm also a bit of a frowner,
I go to Manila to drink my tequila, (but Tans in Jamaica are browner)
I'm little JACK HORNER, the one in the Corner, Half points if you said Alex Downer.

We reckon we're funny, we play with your money, and all the while playing we sing
We're hopeful that Johnny will take "box and money", - that's when his big Super goes "DING!"
We're always upstaging, that's when we're not raging, each other - like Bob Hope and Bing
Ten points for those tries, that said Morcombe and Wise, -
( hey John is there room for the two of us guys? ) - ahh - Abbott / Costello I heard a few cries -
for teamcard of "President/King".

I'm awfully serious, bordering tearious, mainly I talk overseas,
I like my chests hairy - just cant STAND a fairy - I REALLY like swinging in trees,
I'm fighting for Labour - (just found this big sabre) - and kicks to the groin with my knees
Ten points for young Kevin, (now Ruddy's in Heaven) , but my vote's for Tarzan there please.

I dance with caraccas, I also kick nackers, I usually end up on top,
Don't try to resist me, that bloke there just kissed me, I had to say "Ruddy please stop!"
I'm out on the hustings, to sort out my lustings, for power and who gets the chop!
Full marks for "Kung Fu Man", I'm in this race too man, half points for J. Gillard - now hop!!

Who are we? we go out at midday for lunch, By three we're as pissed as a newt, as
Long as we breakfast on egos and talkfest, and squander our share of the loot,
well, "Poly-" means many, and "-tics" are all bloodsuckers ,"Politics" all up the shoot,
Well...
Ten points for HOUSE OF REPS, twenty for SENATE, and Fifty for both - et tu Brute.

 

[2020hindsight]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesha
http://dictionary.reference.com/

Hey , if anyone wants to know about a brilliant "word-finder" - ....
also - check quotes (Bible or Shakespeare in particular)
Note that I searched for for the keyword "camel" (and pressed "go get it")
Note also the subtle difference between Matthew 19:24 and Shakespeare's Richard II in the quote about camels and needles eyes etc,
HEY - If the XAO keeps going up !! we're all headed for the other place !! lol - (with Fred Nile's gays lol)

I stand here, Richard second, thoughts confused
my kingdom for a horse (?) (no that was third)
How strange! – I’m neither high nor halfway boozed!
I speak, but then no sooner, echoes heard
to be or not to be - or praps a miss-take?
My thoughts are almost formed but then they le’-go
Its either 2020 on a pisstake
or else it’s Thomas Becket’s ghostly echo

Richard:-1A. I have been studying how I may compare
This prison where I live unto the world:
And for because the world is populous
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.

Echo:- 1B. so What to make of this my lot in life?
it’s Difficult but here’s a crack – let’s see ….
I’m One of earthly millions here in strife
but In my mind - this prison - only me.

Richard:- 2A. My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented.

Echo:- 2B. my Soul with chase my brain around my head
and When it catches up breeds naught but thoughts (naughty thoughts?)
lie, Screwed up drafts of things I almost said
lie, Discontented half endorsed reports.

Richard:- 3A. The better sort,
As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd
With scruples and do set the word itself
Against the word:

Echo:- 3B. Quotations of some wise man scruple based
might Grapple with the words from other vines
and Grappling, hook my mind – and must be faced
these Lines we use to help define “divine”.

Richard:- 4A. As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again,
'It is as hard to come as for a camel
To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.'.

Echo:- 4B. take Camel/needle’s eye as case in point
just One of much confusing ancient text
a Child who’s called, that eye of God anoints
must Pass this eye in this world ‘fore the next??

Richard:- 5A.Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders; .

Echo:- 5B. but Camels into needle’s eyes don’t go!
it’s Hard to see a different explanation!
our Thinking minds might trick us that we know?
conFuse HIS words with OUR interpretation?

Richard:- 6A. How these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls,
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars
Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame,
That many have and others must sit there;
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,.

Echo:- 6B. my Thoughts may claw the bars of this “stone prison” (stoned prison?)
may Die of “lack of wise” or too much pride
praps Plagiarise some saint long since arisen
- most Like a bus companion sit and ride.

Richard:- 7A. Bearing their own misfortunes on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I in one person many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again: and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be,
Nor I nor any man that but man is
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing. Music do I hear?.

Echo:- 7B. and Knowing others passed this way before
these Uncontented thoughts in chorus sing
if I am king , then praps I’m happier poor
but, Were I poor , no doubt I’m happier king.

Praps I , who just a man - am!, after all,
Will never find that pleasure, earthly sought
Until perhaps I hear some final call,
Until perhaps?
............ this crown's reduced to naught?

Echo :- (suddenly getting sidetracked with King Lear lol - as per jpeg attached )

And should I fail to pass this earthly test
- my camel fails to pass this needle's dot-
I’ll crack a tube of Guinness (it’s the best !!)
and “drive it crackling home to the Camel Lot”

 

[2020hindsight]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_II_of_England

Henry II of England (5 March 1133 – 6 July 1189) ruled as Count of Anjou, Duke of Normandy, Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Gascony, Count of Nantes, and as King of England (1154–1189) and, at various times, controlled parts of Wales, Scotland, eastern Ireland, and western France. His sobriquets include "Curt Mantle" (because of the practical short cloaks he wore), "Fitz Empress," and sometimes "The Lion of Justice," which had also applied to his grandfather Henry I. He ranks as the first of the Plantagenet or Angevin Kings.

Following the disputed reign of King Stephen, Henry's reign saw efficient consolidation. Henry II has acquired a reputation as one of England's greatest medieval kings.

sounds like he was a practical cloaker to me !

 

[2020hindsight]

And should I fail to pass this earthly test
- my camel fails to pass this needle's dot-
I’ll crack a tube of Guinness (it’s the best !!)
and “drive it crackling home to the Camel Lot”

...

as we Walk down the pavement, old camel, old friend
i'd say "Mate we've been saved!! from a thread - bare-end !!
do you Think perhaps maybe, they were having a lend?
to Tie up our minds in a knot?

“for a Start they had YOU down as quartered and dead
praps eaten by silkworms and drawn into thread
and laced through some needle from tail-tip to head
and after that ? – probably be shot !

and Me they had down as a stoker in hell
unless we could lubricate you with some gel
(or call in some bloke with a heavenly bell)
it lubricates well till its hot.

I don’t really fancy this stoking of fires
eternity! – wow ! - in a eon expires!
but praps with some grease and a good pair of pliers ...
(remember to breathe when you squat!!)

oh merciful justice, I heard someone cry
it droppeth like lust in a lover’s large sky
but mate you’d be thrust through a needle's small eye !!
(and they could care diddeley squat)

if you analyse things with a surgeon’s knife
are we pawns or kings in this struggle and strife
- …….. as a wise God has wings “before death you’ll have life”
- …….. as the redwood has rings “before death you’ll have life”
- …….. as the autumns have springs “before death you’ll have life”
- …….. as a violin has strings “before death you’ll have life”
- …….. as the fat lady sings “before death you’ll have life”
- …….. as mad fortune has slings “before death you’ll have life”
................
while a pastuerised (passed-your-eyes'ed) camel has not.

 

[2020hindsight]

PS gee, you're a tough audience, lol (but hek - no probs - I take comfort in the fact that a few people seem to read the poems now and then )

I 'wrote' most of that last one - (well, memorised bits and pieces of it - if I'd tape recorded it, it would be three times longer, lol) - as I was fixing up some pavers in the driveway this evening - and I was cakking myself - ahh I love this "hypothetical ballad" stuff

 

[2020hindsight]

Here's a beauty by Robbie Burns on the plight of the common man -written 1784 - around the time of

the storming of the bastille, 14 July 1789,

just before Australia was settled, 26 Jan 1788

- picture the social scene in Britain, with the jails full of convicts , and nowhere to send em - except overseas "somewhere" (american war of independence in 1976 had stopped any more(?) being sent there).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Revolutionary_War
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bastille
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMAV_Bounty

Actually it was also just before the mutiny on the bounty, 28 April 1789,
as well, - another commentary in itself on the social conditions in England, - compared to amongst the Tahitian ladies - although that was after Sydney was settled - I wonder why Blight didnt try to make it to Sydney rather than Timor, but I guess winds etc - maybe he didnt even know about Sydney lol - and maybe he'd have been turned away, as the first year here Gov Phillip was having enough problems feeding the first fleet of Aussies. sorry - getting off the subject again

I think Burns based this on an existing song - and this also can be sung - not on youtube as yet as far as I can see.

Man Was Made To Mourn: A Dirge 1784
Type: Dirge

When chill November's surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
One ev'ning, as I wander'd forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
I spied a man, whose aged step
Seem'd weary, worn with care;
His face furrow'd o'er with years,
And hoary was his hair.

"Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?"
Began the rev'rend sage;
"Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain,
Or youthful pleasure's rage?
Or haply, prest with cares and woes,
Too soon thou hast began
To wander forth, with me to mourn
The miseries of man.

"The sun that overhangs yon moors,
Out-spreading far and wide,
Where hundreds labour to support
A haughty lordling's pride;-
I've seen yon weary winter-sun
Twice forty times return;
And ev'ry time has added proofs,
That man was made to mourn.

"O man! while in thy early years,
How prodigal of time!
Mis-spending all thy precious hours-
Thy glorious, youthful prime!
Alternate follies take the sway;
Licentious passions burn;
Which tenfold force gives Nature's law.
That man was made to mourn.

"Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Man then is useful to his kind,
Supported in his right:
But see him on the edge of life,
With cares and sorrows worn;
Then Age and Want-oh! ill-match'd pair-
Shew man was made to mourn.

"A few seem favourites of fate,
In pleasure's lap carest;
Yet, think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest:
But oh! what crowds in ev'ry land,
All wretched and forlorn,
Thro' weary life this lesson learn,
That man was made to mourn.

"Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
More pointed still we make ourselves,
Regret, remorse, and shame!
And man, whose heav'n-erected face
The smiles of love adorn, -
Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn!

"See yonder poor, o'erlabour'd wight,
So abject, mean, and vile,
Who begs a brother of the earth
To give him leave to toil;
And see his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn,
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife
And helpless offspring mourn.

"If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave,
By Nature's law design'd,
Why was an independent wish
E'er planted in my mind?
If not, why am I subject to
His cruelty, or scorn?
Or why has man the will and pow'r
To make his fellow mourn?

"Yet, let not this too much, my son,
Disturb thy youthful breast:
This partial view of human-kind
Is surely not the last!
The poor, oppressed, honest man
Had never, sure, been born,
Had there not been some recompense
To comfort those that mourn!

"O Death! the poor man's dearest friend,
The kindest and the best!
Welcome the hour my aged limbs
Are laid with thee at rest!
The great, the wealthy fear thy blow
From pomp and pleasure torn;
But, oh! a blest relief for those
That weary-laden mourn!"

Completely optional for this one, but this website has his poems translated into 'english'
http://www.worldburnsclub.com/poems/translations/man_was_made_to_mourn.htm

 

[2020hindsight]

happy birthday little Bindi, gee your dad would be so proud
and the kindest kindred spirit in a khaki coloured shroud
with his world acclaim so merited and hard to fill those shoes
and those qualities inherited and more than you'll ever lose

on behalf of all the wildlife with their feet and fins and wings
on behalf of the environment, of jungle and its kings
on behalf of length and breadth and depth of wildlife warrior worth
happy birhday little princess from the friends of mother earth

happy birthday little heroine, please educate us "peers"
read and finger trace if need be with your mum pride filled with tears
happy birthday from a world tuned in to the thunder of your drum and fife
may enthusiasm see you win, and wonder fill your life

 

[2020hindsight]

Since my daughter is a big fan of Harry Potter, I'll repeat this one, (slightly modified)

BOOK MEETS GIRL

Like an orphan left unmothered on the library shelf unread,
Sat a small book partly smothered by the bigger books instead,
With its pages undiscovered, from some crazy author's head,
And it sadly sat unlovered, and it's little heart, it bled.

Ahh, it wasn't Henry Lawson, with his wit that rocked the bar,
And it wasn’t Smokey Dawson with his grin and grand guitar,
And it wasn't Banjo Patterson, nor Scott nor Lochinvar,
But, imagining it mattered, it must wait its chance to star.

And the dust collected weekly, and the months turned into years
And the little book sat meekly, and it held back welling tears,
Oh its eyes would rise obliquely every time a child appears,
Just to fall again as quickly, to its neighbour volume's jeers.

By the luck of some great cosmic ray, a bolt from who-knows-where,
The little book fell down one day, the lady found it there,
"The boss finds this - there's hell to pay - its user card is bare!!
We'll sell this book come Saturday, and I'm too rushed to care."

It went on sale exceeding fast, the cheapest there, ten cents,
A little girl was walking past, and spied it through the fence,
And book-and-girl were both aghast, their first-sight-love intense,
And ten cents later, die was cast on all that's happened hence.

.................
Half under sheets she'd read at home ('t would give a ghoul a fright!)
Half lightning flash, half Thunderdome, dark wizards in half light,
And book-and-girl entwined would roam with knuckles waay past white,
And arm-in-page they'd read alone and raid the fridge each night.

Ahh, it wasn't colt from Old Regret, or Man from Iron Bark,
But old regrets had disappeared, like blacksmiths in the dark - and
It wasn’t Clancy Overflow, his thumbnail dipped in tar,
Just the overflowing vegemite - and grins from ear to jar.

I plan to take a cautious look into the land of dreams,
I plan to buy a ten cent book on wacky wizard themes,
I'm warned it's hard to 'throw the hook' once you are hooked it seems,
- and plug my ears for girl-and-book's ten trillion dollar screams! .

 

[2020hindsight]

Today I caught train to Sydney, and alighted at Town Hall , several "floors" underground. There ahead of me was a blind man walking along the station, then walking up the steps with his black Labrador seeing eye dog. the thing that bowled me was the dog's tail which was wagging profusely

MAYBE POETRY IS FOR SEEING AND FEELING

We may see a random poem as we traverse and trevail
as we gaze on hills of Rome, or a sunrise or a sail
some may paint poetic crosses with a man attached by nail
- but today I saw a blind man and a dog with wagging tail
- (and such things will hook my passions without fail).

Some see poems in the shapeliness beneath a dancing veil
some see poems in the broaching of a calf and mother whale
some wax lyrical on harvest moons ( the barn near full of bale)
- but today I saw a blind man walk a platform by a rail.
- and a dog was wildly wagging with its tail!

Whether “platform six” or parkland, ‘neath the street, or sky blue dome
he must probe a dire darkland, with a dog to lead him home
and the fact that dog is happy in his job as “seeing eye”........
- if I wasn’t happy yesterday - today I’m gonna try!
- and I'd love to conquer trials like that guy!.

His determination won me and right now I’m on a high
I’ll (in future) take the splinter (and the log) out of my eye,
and I doubt this man will see this well-brushed-tail wag 'fore they die
- but I’m sure they “feel” that poem as he whispers “which way Skye?”
- and I’m sure they “feel” that footnote… “love you Skye!”.

Sure I’ve walked past poems blindly like our friend with whitened cane
Sure I’ve profited unkindly for some selfish gotten gain
but those two have taught me "teamwork", taught me “vision”, free of "vain"
- and have bought my soul like Jean Valjean - (till tomorrow I’m blind again?)
- but my windows for today have a clearer pane.

Constant darkness, constant shadow, constant stumbles in the fog
only ray of light (replacing missing eyes like missing cog)
is the close-knit-warm-comraderie, top billing in his log
- and the lichen (like-en) in his eyelid cured by loving in his dog
- and the pawprints round that quicksand near the bog.

 

[2020hindsight]

The English Floods

Neptune said to mother England “sorry mam I’ve gotta say
as the bearer of sad tidings , there’s a giant tide today
but there’s many sadder "tide-ins" down this global warming track
till the sun and ice stop fighting, and the polar caps freeze back.
and 'Kyoto-Man' abides by greener pact!"

and the Engish ask “could this be global warming do you think?
cos there’s water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink!”
where art thou, ST Coleridge!? , how we miss you , how we’re lost!
come back now Wordsworth! foliage! – show the room the albatross!!
the shrinking boards, the shrinking forest moss.

 

[2020hindsight]

WHAT TO DO ON THE WEEKEND AFTER BLOODY FRIDAY

the dow is in the hands of Fortune – “Bloody Friday” blues!
should we sell or buy? (such torture!!} well - we’ve all weekend to choose
what a brilliant opportunity to study something else
like the character within us and that beast we call “ourself”
(meanwhile Orson claims those beasts we call ourselves?}

Further to Walter Dickman's philosophy ( as expounded back there in the "is there a god?" thread https://www.aussiestockforums.com/forums/showthread.php?p=156561&highlight=dickman#post156561 ) - that we all have a stack of unrealised talent within us, and only a small percentage gets an airing, whereas the majority goes unwitnessed to the grave....

... I remember an endless loop that Walter Dickman proposed - we all have massive “reserves” of latent abilities which generally go to the grave with us unused - his proposal then , Release your Latent Abilities (RLA), Get “Job Well Done” feedback, Release more LA, etc loops etc. Here's his website (you have to disclose an email address to enter, but I believe I can vouch for his integrity http://www.positivepath.net/walterdickman.asp
http://www.nationalspeakers.asn.au/NSW_news.html National Speakers of Australia

here is another concept (somewhat similar in my opinion - some may dispute that..... great concept in my opinion , some may dispute that as well lol) ...

Orson Welles's opinion of acting - being a process of sculpting out of a larger block of stone i.e. the multitalented block that you represent now -

to find those talents which empathise with the part you are required to portray "in some play". Firstly I recommend that you watch the youtube video ...

THE AWESOME PHILOSOPHY OR ORSON WELLES - OF SCULPTING ANY NUMBER OF ACTOR's PARTS FROM YOUR MACRO-SELF

hell we’ve all been sold a pup here , cripes its nothing like its told
wow this acting isn’t addons! – isn’t new stuff! - it’s the old!!
Orson Welles has said in syllables (of one or max of two)
that to act another character, you sculpt away at “you”

I’m "singular and simple" - whereas he claims "sculptor's stone"?!
and he claims my mind's more nimble!? claims I'm many? yet alone?
he claims "fashioned multi-faceted", and claims that "we will learn"
if we “mirror-wander-wonder”, and we “mountain climbing yearn”.

...........................

say, for "tragic-actor" structure, take away the "sense of laughter"
it is that remaining sculpture, it is what’s inside us after!
makeup doesn’t make the lady, and the clothes don’t make the man,
hence our actor carved is less weighty, than we were when "action!" began

only men with deep self knowledge, know their "saint" and "villain" side,
can present to a peer-reviewed-college, as a credible "Jeckle and Hyde",
can appear as a "jealous lover", as a temperament fluid or changed
can appear as a "cop undercover", or a "mobster" who’s mad and deranged.

"multi-talents-untapped" in our psyche, make our soul strangely stable and sound!
It’s brilliant!! (old Orson), I likey!!! , cos it says we’re "unfathomed!, profound!"
..........
and relating it back to us streetfolk, - how gifted’s “pedestrian man”?
find within you, some birdman elite,!! folk! – let your wings full discover their span

and ignoring the talons, release all those talents
and give your self-sculptured self-image more balance -
discover the truth !… that “you can !!”

 

[2020hindsight]

OK ok – so I’m taking the dog for a walk, and I think to myself – gee doesn’t “Orson Welles” sound like “Awesome wells” so I think – heck I bet that could make another verse etc. and I ask myself “a verse?, or not averse?, that is the question”, and the rest is history – the sort of history that no-one‘s gonna read lol.
PS I'm also trying to cheer myself up, just wishing I'd sold instead of bought

THE AWESOME PHILOSOPHY OF ORSON WELLES - OF SCULPTING ANY NUMBER OF ACTOR's PARTS FROM YOUR MACRO-SELF

hell we’ve all been sold a pup here , cripes its nothing like it's told
wow this acting isn’t addons! – isn’t new stuff! - it’s the old!!
Orson Welles has said in syllables (of one or max of two)
that to act another character, you sculpt away at “you”

I’m "singular and simple" - whereas he claims "sculptor's stone"?!
and he claims my mind's more nimble!? claims I'm many? yet alone?
he claims "fashioned multi-faceted", and claims that "we will learn"
if we “mirror-wander-wonder”, and we “mountain climbing yearn”.

...........................

say, for "tragic-actor" structure, take away the "sense of laughter"
it is that remaining sculpture, it is what’s inside us after!
makeup doesn’t make the lady, and the clothes don’t make the man,
with our "actor" carved, less weighty- than when "action!" "take" began

only men with deep self knowledge, know their "saint" and "villain" side,
can present to a peer-reviewed-college, as a credible "Jeckle and Hyde",
can appear as a "jealous lover", as a temperament fluid or changed
can appear as a "cop undercover", or a "mobster" who’s mad and deranged.

"multi-talents-untapped" in our psyche, make our soul strangely stable and sound!
It’s brilliant!! (old Orson), I likey!!! , cos it says we’re "unfathomed!, profound!"
..........
and relating it back to us streetfolk, - how gifted’s “pedestrian man”?
find within you, some birdman elite,!! folk! – let your wings full discover their span

and ignoring the talons, release all those talents
and give your self-sculptured self-image more balance -
discover the truth !… that “you can !!”

.............
I just love the thought that somewhere there are talents unexposed
only rarely do we find them, maybe accessed through our nose ?
Springs of youth, or droplets challenging? - in "rainshower sneeze"? or cry?
so I got this droplight (halogen) , and I "dove" into my eye...
(there were all these sculptures imaging - as I dove the depths of "I")

using just those “headgear bound’ries” that the rugby players wear
look inside for fountains? foundaries? "hello-o - o!!?! .... any talents there??"
maybe stuff for which you're thankful (- in amongst the stuff that smells)
maybe crystal drops? - or tankfuls!! –
................ maybe heaps of “Awesome Wells”?

Here’s a meditation technique I read about once –
comfortable etc, imagine you are going into somewhere like the Jenolan Caves – there’s a light – you follow – deeper into the cave where noone has ever been etc – still there’s plenty of light around to see with - there’s a slow flowing river – a boat, you push out into the stream - still following the light – etc etc forget how it ends lol I think you end up where the river emerges as a waterfall into full daylight - at this majestic view from the top of the waterfall But ever since I watched “Phantom of the Opera” I’ve stopped using that imagery lol.

 

[2020hindsight]

A DREAM - FROM THE CITY TO SURF TO CAESAR

there’s a race they run in Sydney, where God juggles countless kidney,
starting city, THROUGH that ceiling, ending surf,
sixty thousand take the mat, some are fit and some are fat,
just a piebald mass of humankind and mirth.

stacked like sardines in a tin, nose to nose and chin to chin,
someone fires a starting pistol in some face,
whoosh – the fast guys up the front jump like foxes in the hunt,
(that’s the last we’ll see of them till next year's race.)

count a hundred times to fifteen, slowly, slowly, feet are lifting,
(by the time you cross the start the race is won),
beep beep - lemme through there ma'm; beep beep - lady with a pram;
beep beep - granpa here and clear the decks there son.

through the tunnel, round the bay, soaking up the sunny day,
cos it’s always sunny when you’re having fun,
past the jazzbands for some pep, crunching cups all keeping step,
“up the heartbreak – up the heartrate!” - so it’s spun.

people hobbled getting married, some just hobble, some are carried,
some in monkey suits which suits the general magic,
some in tutus some as Tarzan, some honk Claxons as they’re passin
all are laughing, and who cares if some are "tragic".

to the lighthouse at Vaucluse, light heart cheers of ocean views,
motives worth a mint - or mintie - or a dime,
down to Bondi and the beach, lessons learnt just life can teach,
and who cares about your hamstring or your time.

paraplegics hands a mess, moral medals more or less,
paramedics pack their Vaseline and go,
countless bruises, countless smiles, countless headcounts, kids or piles,
and till next year, countless fires and inner glow.

……………………..
there I lay down on the sand, and some thoughtwaves struck unplanned
they concerned the inner motives of a man
there beside an ocean deep, sounds of waves rocked me to sleep,
and I had a dream, and this is how it ran ……..
.....................

Today saw sixty thousand people run,
and tomorrow’s headline says that one has won,
but unless that headline writer joined the fun,
he is only partly right when all is done.

for today saw sixty thousand grinners grin,
and today saw sixty thousand winners win,
saw a piebald mass of multiculture flow,
and the ranks of “peace cosmopolites” on show.

gun-runners lose ! - today fun-runners grow!,
the war's not won - at least we struck a blow,
cosmopolites and paraplegics rule!
they may see "hills", they choose "ignore the fool"

and just as paraplegics make it home,
and worn out warriors all retire to Rome,
before the world resembles Towers of Pisa,
cosmopolites must conquer warlike Caeser.

- cosmopolites must learn "say no to Caesar"

 

[2020hindsight]

FROM MOSQUITOS TO WAR

I wonder why God made mosquitos?
or fashioned a tonsil to snore?
I wonder why men turn bandito?
or others initiate war?

Do we march on that misfit mosquito?
Do we free up those tonsils that snore?
Do we check out those misfit banditos?
......
Do we jail men who start bludy war?

 

[2020hindsight]

NOW IT's MY SON's TURN

As a young man I walked along this road
with a young man’s step and a lightweight load
and the freedom to sleep in some crude abode
then I found where the ocean boats were lowered
.....where the “free” people seemed to frequent

I didn’t know then that the world was so wide
I didn’t know then that the outgoing tide
could transport a man on a magical ride
such a self indulged yet a magical ride -
.....but I shouldered my rucksack, and went.

As I waved my hand in brief goodbye
I kinda suspected a man could fly
and I kinda suspected I'd give it a try -
But , And as for life ? I still don’t know why !?
..... praps to die would be ‘paying the rent’?.

And nought did I know, or a zac of zen
or of ying or yang or of offshore men
nor how, nor whence, nor wishbone hence
and nought did I know past the backyard fence
.....and which way the wind hedge leant.

Now I’ve seen a hint what the world can reveal
to a man who's possessed with the power to feel
the pulse of a people where pain is real
yet smile through the sweat of their treadmill’s squeal
.....yet their kindness is heaven sent

and I didn’t know then what I want in a bride
not a crush, not a blush, but a bond to abide
and a pact to remain at each other’s side
and I didn’t know whether of hunt or hide
.....but I learnt what love "sorta" meant

..............................
The same man now as I was then
My son walks these roads as the youngest of men
having watched tides swirl and return to the fen –
across the same flats like page under pen
.....(and so this whole page begins again )
.....and to dream to his heart’s content.

 

[2020hindsight]

This is one of my old poems- in a book that I thought I'd lost .. I wrote it in one sitting one night after dodging a typhoon for a couple of days across the South China Sea more or less - needless to say I was on a high at the time Needless to say I was also single at the time lol.

A SONG OF SALT WATER

Part I
Out past the headland where breakers are tamed, out to a wild blue sea,
Out there where God can be sworn at and blamed, THAT’s where I long to be,
Out where the wind and the waves cast their spell, and sing with a single voice,
And way out of earshot of song of the shell, where you yell and give thanks and rejoice.

Out where the wind fills the sails with glee, and sweeps o’er the wings of the gull,
Out with the law of the will to be free, and the bow of a heaving hull,
And the tugging of teather as she climbs to the weather, and the lunge as she lurches to lee,
And the patches of sky as one gunnel rides high, while the other is ploughing the sea.

Out where the dome of a wide open sky can faraway fortunes foretell,
Where a cloud can be “relay” from God on high, or a sunset a message from Hell,
Out where the mind is reflected in kind by the will of a wanton sea,
Out where the soul finds its ultimate goal in the joy of the verb-to-be.

Part II
But the magic that crowns is the magic that drowns, and the sun that elates cuts your lips,
And a sudden incline of a mad boiling brine has buried the bravest of ships,
And many’s the tale told to slapping of sail of sweat and of hardship and perils,
And many’s the lore of the loved one ashore, and her fears as the wild thunder heralds.

But the salt of the ocean is like a love potion and every old salt is addicted,
And he’s loved her the more, that sweaty old wh ore, with each of the blows she’s inflicted,
And her salt that’s encrusted in rigging so rusted attracts like the perfumes of Venus,
And she hugs to her breast each heart that takes rest when her lovers rejoin their Redeemers.

Part III
At night while the stars waltz the heaven’s afar, each rigidly locked in its place,
Where the great archer’s bow never changes its aim, nor the lion the snarl on his face,
Miss Virgo looks down with her so scornful frown on the lusty wh-ore splashing free,
She’s not heard of the moon and her feminine tune, and fertle she never will be.

But ahhhh the sea!!! the mighty sea!!! the ever pregnant sea!!!
Who makes love with each tide like a newly wed bride and she captures the hearts of the free.
........
And the mariner’s sigh to a woman’s goodbye “Till salt water will cure all our ills..
Like the sweat from our thighs, and the tears from our eyes, and – for me – the salt air in my gills “

 

[2020hindsight]

Just to put things into perspective, here's my current predicament ....

THE AMATEUR ON THE SHOPPING ASSIGNMENT

sent upon a mission here … “shopping trip with list”
told to get some fish - (and beer), (as long as I don’t get pist)
aisle eleven, where the hell, - drive you round the bend
why not stay at bludy home, and save instead of spend.

fish in parsley? herb or garlic?, dozen or a score?
munchies, crunchies, brunchies, lunchies? – cooked or bludy raw?
kilo chicken – breast or thighs?; asian sauce palatial?
curry, indian or thai? - doubles as a facial?

stockings – “sexy shear delight”? or “wicked wild and durable”?
“six foot legs” or “sexy feet”, or “bunion paste uncurable”?
size 10 hats (and this and that’s), “bras” or “front door knockers”
brikerbrak and nickers black, and toilet rolls for rockers?

they say they cheat with every word you read on these here labels,
my poker mates have even heard they cheat at poker tables,
the blighters mainly make it up, they say it’s almost stealing
you’d watch em big time in a game, - especially if they’re dealing.