Dance Of Life

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The billboards of my life

Go skipping quickly by

As I leave my earthly subway

And head up to the  sky.


My time on earth’s expanding

Years rushing heedlessly past

As the Cosmos keeps on growing

From that first pinpoint

Celestial bang.



You light-fingered thief!



Why should I dwell on you?

And Tomorrow!

Grab worryingly at your hem?



Always the wallflower


I’ll embrace you.

Yet you slip away so quickly.


Begone Yesterday!

With your joys and sorrows.

Hey, it’s been great!

But you’ve had your chance.


And Future!

What of you?

Maybe so, maybe not,

Where careful plans

Too often bow before unruly circumstance.



Let me lust for

What I now have in my arms

For it’s with the Present

That I must dance.

A Father’s Lament


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Oh how I weep for you!

Burdened with a Degree

That you may have to pay off

If you earn obscene amounts of money.

My heart bleeds for you,

Trying to find that McMansion

That is beyond your means

As you drink your flat whites,

Comparing the last concert you went to,

Grazing on your smashed avocados.

You wander like a shoal of sardines

In the ocean of information

On Facebook

As the Zookerberg whales of this world

Scoop you up,

Growing fat on your likes.

Never a spare moment

As you remain connected umbilically

To your i-phone

Risking annihilation

By the 703 bus

As, head-down , you cross the street

Scared to commit but craving connection;

Always looking for the better offer,

Losing the skill of reading each other

With your eyes

And of communication beyond the digital trite remark;

Usually of acquiescence

Always wanting and needy

Never in the present and complete

It’s enough to drive one

To despair!

Never happy with being here

Always wanting to be   where?

Life is hard for you

Your suffering is likely to be longer than mine

As research adds years to your sentence;

No time off for bad behaviour!

How will you  survive?

Never mind!

That old hoary chestnut of the seventies;

Nuclear annihilation

May once more rear its head.

Enjoy your life and live it

It sure beats being —-

And by the way!

Don’t worry about global warming

And climate change!

As you while away the hours

Beneath the outdoor cafe heaters.

That’s for your kids.

Absolution And Faith

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                    Look at me

                     What do you see?


                      Maybe your thought of me.

                      Your construct of who I am.

                       We all have secrets

                       Things that shame us,

                       Maybe not even secrets

                         But things you and I 

                         Prefer not to notice,

                         To tarnish your idea of me,

                         Or me of you.

                         We are all guilty of schadenfreude,

                          Feeling pleasure at another’s misfortune

                          Whether it’s our perceived enemies

                          Or so-called friends or acquaintances 

                          Who we feel need

                           Taking down a peg or two

                           Or those countless people

                           With whom we have no connection

                           And do not know.

                           The TV news thrives on it,

                           Reality TV,


                           The dark side of voyeurism,

                           Thrive on it.

                           Hey! we’re competitive,

                           We’re human.

                           We keep the mistakes

                             And things that we are ashamed of

                             Just comfortably under the surface

                             Of our consciousness

                             In a shallow grave.

                             Is this good?


                            This guilt?

                            Am I less likely 

                            To make the same mistake again?

                             So does it serve its purpose

                             To guide my moral compass?

                            And does God

                            Hear my supplication?

                            Or in confessing

                            Do I acknowledge,

                            Take ownership

                            And bury in a shallow grave

                             That I would prefer to forget?

                             And move on.

                             I am not religious

                             The ego of a God plays no part in my Universe,

                             Nor fear of death.

                              However I can see the need for faith

                              And how God can enrich a person’s life.

                              I also have faith;

                              Faith that when I take a step

                              My foot stops on the ground

                              And does not go on and on.

                              There, that is that!

                               And I can take the next step.


                                Faith that gives me confidence

                                And intuition

                                 So I don’t have to think,

                                 Fret about everything I do.

                                  I can wake in the morning,

                                  Knowing you’re there next to me,

                                  That the sun has risen,

                                  That all is right with the world.


                                  I appreciate

                                How God can give you comfort.

The Troubles

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Where a look can tell you more than trite words ever could

And stepping outside might be the last thing you ever do.

Where vengeance can run deep and old scores  can bide their time

Waiting to be settled.



Where violence can shatter dreams and wake men

Sweating from their sleep.

As allegiances can change , not knowing who’s  counsel to keep.



Where hunting is done in the confines of the bar

The quarry trying to keep tabs of who the hunters are,

Using the cover of others and with their company keep,

Do you really  know who is who

Before you venture on the street?



Where trust is more valuable than anything else you may possess

And betrayal is an end game, you don’t want to take in jest.



The accountant’s a handy man who’s good at figuring things out.

Not that he’s violent mind! He has enforcers to provide the clout.



They all swear allegiance to the UVF or IRA

But go about their normal jobs from nine to five each day.


The Brits try to keep the peace between the orange and the green,


If you’re Catholic or a Nationalist their justice may seem a bit obscene.



So weary men are tired of never knowing from day to day

What their future holds and must needs compromise

To live a better way


Laying old scores to rest but maybe not forgiven

Accepting what has been gained



And getting on with living.

A Useful Idiot


How sad it is that the American people have become so disenfranchised from their representatives in Washington, both Republican and Democrat that they have allowed Putin to destabilise their political system with the installation of a useful idiot as President.

The problem is not unique to the USA but is occurring in the major so-called democracies where politicians see survival and power as the end and not listening to and representing the people who elected them .

There are endemic weaknesses in modern capitalism. The economic model seems flawed. The media are caught up in the economic model where ratings carry more weight than truth and are intertwined with the entertainment industry promoting self before duty, rights before responsibility and the short-term sensation rather than the long-term perspective ; and then there’s the real bogeyman of the economic model , productivity before sustainability.

How have we become so powerless?

How have our so-called leaders become so ordinary and disappointing?



The Publican’s Lament


Yes, we’re playing at The Last Jar

It’s a trifle cramped for sure.

The sun’s streaming through the windows

But can hardly hit the floor.


For every inch is taken

By a muso and his chair

With people crowding around the bar

Listening to the lively air.




Which leaves the bartenders stranded

 Thirsty patrons they can’t greet

To get their order for  beer or Guiness


So they’ll likely go off down the street


Music doesn’t pay the land tax

Of many thousand dollars once a year.



Don’t get me started on the government and land tax

Or the Banks


You know I went to the bank today

To get the some banking done.

There were only nine people queued up

And just one teller on.

Well a lady , she comes up to me,

Says would I like to take a seat

Then another lady comes and greets me

And asks

Would I like a cup of tea

But I digress

To pay the land taxes once a year

You  need to pull lots of Guiness

And an awful lot of  beer.


So as you’re listening to  the music

Leave some room around the bar

So thirsty customers


If you please

Front up

And buy a jar.



Six people murdered by Jimmy Gargasoulas

as he deliberately mowed them down on Swanston St. mall in his car;

many more injured

And a fortune will be paid to the silks

To prove the obvious,

That he is guilty of multiple homicide.


How much will be spent on improving the

way we deal with deranged people; always men, so it seems

and the all too frequent granting of bail?

Stuff the silk’s bottomless pockets!  use the funds to address the problem

so it’s less likely to happen again.