The Man From Ironbark



Church Bells

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Church bells tumble

A cacophony of joy

Impossible not to be uplifted

When they are peeling


Beats Mr Whippy hands down;

Food for the spirit,

Wins every time.



The heart beats faster

Expectations rise

Gladness suffuses

Our bodies and spreads

Through the air



Over fields and hills

Into the crannies of streets

With their houses , shops and restaurants



Touching with joy

All who hear it,

No matter how loud

Or faint with the miles



Cascading , unpredictable sound

That lifts us up and makes us smile.

The Crow

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                                                    The crow sighs mournfully 
                                                     It knows the score
                                                     In this god-forsaken land
                                                     Where men count for little
                                                      And gods for even less
                                                     Wind and spirits abound
                                                     That bring a peace
                                                     Knowing not god or man
                                                     in this lonely, empty land
                                                    Coming to terms
                                                     With our own significance;
                                                      Should I say insignificance
                                                      In the scheme of things.
                                                       Life hanging by a thread
                                                       Of knowing what to do,
                                                       What not to do.
                                                         Even then
                                                         The thread may break.
                                                         The crow sighs mournfully
                                                         And waits. 

“Entrapment” by Bill Kearns

or  the terrifying but tragically true tale of Trevor’s trapped testicle:

having just had a hernia repaired this witty offering by Bill struck a singular note of empathy with me


Trevor’s on a mission to Consumer Affairs

Trying to get a total ban

On plastic stacker chairs


He reckons that they’re dangerous

A serious threat to life

Because it was through a plastic chair

That he got into strife.


It was at the Tamworth Festival

A concert in the park

Ken and Trev were there with gear

To last them until dark


An esky full of coldies

Trevor without a care

With stubbies, thongs and tee shirt

On his plastic stacker chair


But as he stretched his legs out

His left crown jewel rolled free

And dropped right through that narrow slit

A real catastrophe!


But Trevor remained unaware

Of his dire situation

Until they gave the singer

A big standing ovation


As Trevor came up to his feet

He gave a fearsome yell!

Cause tethered to his testicle

The chair came up as well.

He grabbed the chair with both hands

And they crashed back to the ground

But the errant family jewel

Was firmly stuck, he quickly found


Well he tried to extract his testicle

But he could only curse

Cause nothing he did seemed to work

It only made things worse


Well Trev’s mate, Ken was laughing

Fit to go right off his brain

Ken’s tears were from laughter,

But Trevor’s were from pain.


Ken produced a Stanley knife


Trevor’s mouth went dry

Ken said “I’ll only cut the chair!”

But Trevor wouldn’t let him try


Well Ken climbed underneath the chair

And tried to poke things through


It’s times like this you find out

What your mates will really do


Well he pulled and pushed and prodded

But all efforts were in vain

Trevor’s nut was red and raw

And giving heaps of pain


All this unwanted attention

Was no good you realise

Cause Trevor’s tortured testicle

Swelled up to twice its size


Well the word spread quickly through the park

About the situation

People tried to get a glimpse

Of Trevor’s impending castration


Mums & Dads & kids & dogs

Of every shape and age


Trev got more attention than the singer on the stage!


Little kids were biting

Dogs were trying to have a smell

And Trevor tried to cover up

And said “Go to bloody hell!!”


“The poor bloke needs an ice-pack!”

Was the only good advice


So they sat Trev on his Esky

With it hanging in the ice


Well someone called an ambulance

And they drove off through the crowd

Trev was drinking Bundy Rum & swearing pretty loud


And so with sirens blaring

They carted Trev away

Off to the local hospital

Where he was the highlight of the day


But Trev has now recovered

With both crown jewels in place

Don’t offer him a plastic chair

Or you’ll wear it on your face!


Next year at the festival

Trevor will be there!

But wearing tight undies

And long trousers

On his canvas fold-out chair.




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Heat pulses from a surreal scene

Within the glowing red, white

And black burning limbs,

Spurting licks of yellow flame,

Sparks darting merrily from the core

Remind me of the sun from whence it came

Float up, then disappear

In the overhanging firmament

Where countless stars live and die.

A sudden CRACK!

As a settling log

Stirs my mind

And brings me back.


We glow content in the radiant heat

Sharing a yarn

Or just the silence of our company;

The chill creeping

From the alien emptiness behind,


Beyond our world

Of homely fire-lit sand

Where our like-minded faces

Share this earthen , sandy place

As the dancing shadows

Connect us to this land

Fur Fox Sake! Update

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Early one morning

Just as the sun was falling

I heard a maiden calling

“What the fox going on?”

And I said to her

“Don’t you worry my dear

They’re just burning off the Amazon,

Destroying trees by the ton”


The apes of this planet

Aren’t very clever

They engage in Arms races

And stuff up the weather,

Elect bad apes for leaders

And you say

“How can this be??!”


They’re always on Twitter

Or watching TV

Have no bloody idea

Of what really matters

As they stuff up the land

And leave it in tatters.

There! I’ve had my say ;

Keep it short, keep it sweet!

Turn up the air-con

And try to survive

By God!

It’s a great time

For being alive.

Fur Fox Sake!

Screen Shot 2018-06-28 at 10.15.06 AM

The apes of this planet

Aren’t very clever

They engage in Arms races

And stuff up the weather,

Elect bad apes for leaders

And you say!

“How can this be??!”


They’re always on twitter,


or watching TV

Have no bloody idea 

Of what really matters

As they spread over the land 

And leave it in tatters.

There! I’ve had my say;

 Keep it short and sweet;

Turn up the air-con

And try to survive.

By God!

It’s a great time 

For being alive.