Monday, 30 June 2014

June 30: Half way home ...

Yep, I’ve made it half-way, good for me I do say
Should I continue this task, or just quit
There are days I compose just like Mozart my prose
But others when it gives me the shits

There are days when the timing of all of my rhyming
Is clever, and cool and so witty
But when I do coast, I’m sure the stuff that I post
Makes my grammatical skills look unpretty

How many poems have I written to date
Let me count them all up, it wasn’t that hard
Should I cut with a knife and get along with my life
Undecided I scribe "unsure" on my card

For a title I wonder, what to call all this stuff
"Six months in the life of" sounds so bad
"A year" sounds much better, but if I stop now I’ll fetter
Half a year of fine words that I’ve had

I think I’ll go on, I’ve done one eighty one
And I’m just not the type to give up
With this rhyming and timing the numbers keep climbing
There’s room for more wine in my cup

So you have it my friends, this is not where it ends
I undertake that I'll write many more
But my mandate still stands, my fate's in my hands
If they’re crappy I'll walk out the door

Sunday, 29 June 2014

June 29: There once was a fella named Todd ...

There once was a fella name Todd
Who on a good day could play footy like God
Just had one character failure
Drank like well seasoned sailor
That foolish young fella named Todd

Saturday, 28 June 2014

June 28: Sell me a house ...

Did he do it or did he not, what is the evidence they've got
That frames him up for murdering his wife
He told us that he loves her, that he puts no-one above her
But we all know that’s the worst story of his life

He was cheating on his mistress; it seemed to cause her distress
Does the man not have a conscience in his heart
At least he hopped the box, and by the Crown he will be crossed
Anyone who does gives the prosecutor a head start

I could wax lyrical all day, but in the end I’d have to say
What more evidence would cause you to equate
You heard a lot of supposition, about his true position
But all you kneed to know is that he’s in real estate

Need I say more …

Friday, 27 June 2014

June 27: Yep, one more conviction ...

Yep, one more conviction, though against my prediction
I thought on this one we might very well fail
A robbery no less, but I must here confess
What druggies do paints a very strange tale

Congregated at home, in a group they got stoned
Till one joker pulled out some ice
A pipe and a flame, they began a new game
But what happened soon after was not nice

After smoking their crap, they all took a nap
Until one bloke woke up in a rage
"Where are my drugs, I will call in my thugs"
And he made threats like a dog in a cage

Then he pulled out a knife, threatened two with their life
Said "strip off and I’ll search you right proper"
He stabbed one in the leg, while the other one fled
And dialed triple “0” for the coppers

The old bill they arrived, heard a story contrived
And the bad guys took off like scared rabbits
One made a complaint, low blood pressure, looked faint
A symptom of his lifelong drug habit

A great hole in his knee was there for all there to see
There was blood on his clothing and face
An ambulance called, the cops were appalled
So to the hospital it was a race

An alibi was invented, his lawyers contented
Til the coppers they checked out his crap
On bail he reported, his alibi it was thwarted
Not in Orange but in Redfern he napped

Well I’ll just change my mind, I am so inclined
Not to rely on that alibi any more
Not a chance said the Crown, mate you’re goin’ down
Whey they work out you’re a liar for sure

But the judge with a frown, he said to the Crown
I cannot let this in, it reveals
That the man was on bail, his character's frail
He done time for break, enter, steals

So we didn’t get that bit in, but I closed with a grin
Identification it was second to none
And the jury they returned, his version they spurned
He came second, and the Crown, yes we won

Thursday, 26 June 2014

June 26: World Cup fever ...

The World Cup is approaching the ultimate fight
When two teams will play for the prize
The answer we’ll get to determine the bets
Just who is the best team and why

England is gone, but Costa Rica go on
While the host team they head up Group A
Italy floundered while the Netherlands pounded
Twelve goals tells the strength of their play

Australia tried hard, but could not make the card
They just don’t have the flair that’s required
Tim belted two but no more could he do
And at his age you’ll forgive if he’s tired

Germany’s there, the US has a share
Of Group G where by Portugal they snuck
On for and against, their backline content
To rely on a bit of pure luck

Mexico and Chile continue their march
Near the top of their Groups they both sit
Their fans so adoring, screaming joy at each scoring
And holding up signs, “This is it”

Argentina’s still there, though they did have a scare
Winning each game by just one
One might have thought that some teams they might rort
But they’ll have their day in the sun

As we face up to the semi’s some teams they will fail
And they’ll look forward another four years
Let’s hope skill wins the day, and not a dishonest display
That draws a spot kick and brings unwanted tears

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

June 25: My window is fake ...

Oops, I made a mistake, my window is fake
A frosted pane sits between me and the aisle
That view that I yearned, it is yet to be earned
It seems I must wait at least a short while

I jumped at the chance, for a window to glance
Out while contemplating my theory
But it seems at least for a while; I’ll just stare at the aisle
As my cross-examination questions I query

My day it will come, when as I work I’ll feel sun
As it streams through the glass to my face
Who knows how long it will be, till those rays shine on me
But for now it’s back to the rat race

Monday, 23 June 2014

June 24: Gee lawyers say some stupid things ...

Now I’ve heard some beauties in my time at the Bar
I’ve heard witnesses make statements absurd
And I’ve heard lawyers say things you could not believe
Whether viva voce or written in words

I’ve heard counsel ask coppers of things they’ve not done
And things they've not spied at the scene
“That blood on the ground, that you saw with your eyes”
“Was there more blood that could not be seen”

“After the crash, how fast was he driving”
“How did he look before you saw his face first”
Some of the questions defy even the most stupid
I have trouble knowing which one is worst

“Your dead friend, did you meet him before he had died”
“Well I must have, it could not have been after”
There are so many lines where just a word out of place
Has your jury howling with laughter

“When the caller he called you, who else was there”
“The man in the dock, was it him you arrested”
“And that radar gun you were using, how’d you know it would work”
“Cause every damn morning I test it”

Be very careful of all the questions you ask
Cross-examination is a task taken with care
Ill thought out questions invite answers that hurt
Don’t be dropping your head in despair

No-one is perfect, but some are quite close
Preparation is the key to your task
And if you don’t know, there's just one thing to do
Find somebody smarter and ask

Sunday, 22 June 2014

June 23: Not looking good ...

The one’s gonna walk, he’s been talkin’ the talk
Although he didn’t affirm or declare
Said it all though his brief, and we got no relief
When he suggested, “I just was not there”

We called one in our case, who while in that place
Got stabbed in the leg with a knife
Then got bashed in he head, and told he’d be dead
He was scared to an inch of his life

A room full of thugs, fighting over drugs
What’s a jury to make of his pain
In a Redfern drug den, there once were five men
But just one had the balls to complain

My confidence low, which way will they go
Will they discard what he says as untrue
Lie with dogs you get fleas, and get not guilty pleas
If he walks there’s nout we can do

It’s a smack on the chin, every one I can’t win
But I give it my best at the very least
A new case next week, this time ill I will speak
Of a defrocked old Catholic priest

June 22: I've got a new job ...

I’ve got a new job, which pays a few bob
I’m now working just for the Crown
Got a room with a view, now there’s something new
In a new high-rise building down town

And with every new case, I can get in their face
As I elicit the facts of their crimes
And I’m loving this job, which pays a few bob
And could do it for quite a long time

Saturday, 21 June 2014

June 21: If I had to write a poem ...

If I had to write a poem, about how my life was going
I’d be writing something informative and concise
But while my life is just divine, I should tell you in this rhyme
That everything in life it has it's price

I spend my days in court, applying what I have been taught
Not just a law school but by my mum and dad
As I stand at the bar table, doing the best that I am able
With words I work to show the jury that man is bad

Then when my work in court is done, I head home to number one
To the woman who brings joy to daily life
She’s been with me for thirty years, through our hopes and dreams and fears
But there’s no one who I’d rather was my wife

On our Goldwing we both ride, our excitement not kept inside
As we journey round this country every year
To the north and to the west, the trip around we liked the best
Why we do it is so very crystal clear

But when the sun goes down, and we roll into a town
Take a room in the oldest pub we find
Have a beer and have a steak, so much more of this we’ll take
Because age is just something in your mind

Friday, 20 June 2014

June 20: Oh how the mighty fall ...

One there was this Admiral, who’d spent his life at sea
But with rank he saw entitlement, yes, give it all to me
From his Travel Card did he borrow, while commanding the whole fleet
But if a junior rank did such a thing, a court martial they’d meet

When the Admiral’s career it ended, he retired to St Ives
And his good life it continued, with two Beemers in his drive
Got the top job at Sydney Ferries, another fleet for him to lead
With it came a corporate credit card, and a conduit for his greed
That jewelry and the holidays, please put in on the plastic
The groceries and some nice red wine, my life it's so fantastic
I’ve got this bloody mortgage; it is so damn hard to pay
Thank goodness for this credit card, it really paves the way

I took the family to the shaky isles, for a lengthy holiday
But I’m a bit short on the readies, so I’ll get the taxpayers to pay
I wrote and told the Minister the ferries finances they were fine
A few anomalies not mentioned, ‘cause most of them were mine

I got hauled up before ICAC, my good times soon were done
My card’s a million in the red, and my life had lost its fun
What really is the problem, I’m the boss here don’t you know
I have wants that need financing, despite my poor cash flow

I pleaded guilty at the very end, I saw the writing on the wall
What is that old saying, yes, “oh how the mighty fall”
I stood so still before the judge as he sentenced me to jail
My life before it was so good, but it’s now a complete fail

But I still could get an ICO, and my liberty might maintain
I’ll tell him that I’m sorry and contrite, and avoid that further pain
Once I sailed the seven seas, in charge with a fox’s cunning
Now I’m selling nuts and bolts as I sail the aisles in Bunnings

Thursday, 19 June 2014

June 19: The taxman ...

I had to pay my tax today, it nearly broke my heart
It was like losing a dear part of me as the funds and I did part
A hole that’s indescribable, a depth of misery I can’t impart
I’m not sure if red wine can fix it, but I reckon it’s a bloody good start

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

June 18: Game two - it's ours ...

I met a man out on the street, he was dressed in bright maroon
I said to him in my nicest voice, “got something else you can wear home?”
He snickered at me in that way that only a Queenslander could do
But what’s better than beating Queensland? It’s beating them by two

A bloody rugged game it was, a majestic spectacle to behold
The boys were playing for sheep stations, or perhaps the green and gold
But more than that I’m thinking now, they were playing just for pride
And when the eighty minutes ran out, their emotions they could not hide

I could rant and rave of how I feel about Hodges and Smith and Slater
But if I did I might not end this rhyme, until a time much later
Suffice to say I respect their skills, but for spirit they leave me short
When they were playing under tens, fair play was not taught

Some bloke in the paper wrote an article so true
As last we won and broke the streak, we showed we are true blue
Just as dawn it comes again, and as the sun down it does go
No-one ever will beat New South Wales, nine times in a row

Tuesday, 17 June 2014

June 17: My jury is back ...

So I gave them a closing, it's quality unmatched, and then off to consider their verdict despatched
But juries are so hard to make head or tail, you pump them right up, then they give you a fail
What were they thinking, did they not see, the strongest of inference, but they let him walk free

He made up a story, t'was like a slice of Swiss cheese, but he walked through the holes with the greatest of ease
My girlfriend she framed me, so I bought her a ring, not worth 30 dong, just a cheap little thing
Her niece lives in Melbourne, Toorak I’m guessing, with a story like that, there’ll be no confessing

What were you expecting, his guilt he’d concede, if that’s what we had, you lot we’d not need
Two kilos of pseudo, with sugar and with milk, perhaps he’s had it before, a drink smooth as silk
Me, I’m off to the markets, gonna buy me some smack, get a heat sealed container, and when I get back

I’ll just spin 'em a yarn of a standard not heard, I’ll sure have them guessing, ‘cause my tale is absurd
My English is good, until I get into strife, and then I don't know Engrish word in my life
Please get me an interpreter, I need time to think, when I hear it all twice my story won't stink

Chalk it up to experience, until the next time, right now I’m doing my best to get this thing to rhyme
But I’m tempted to tell you I’ve an island for sale, or a bridge or a statue, would my sale's pitch prevail
I should not be too harsh, you don’t know what we know, but really, oh really, so simply let go

Monday, 16 June 2014

June 16: My jury's out ...

As I left my seat this very morn, and gave my last address
Meeting with each juror’s eye, the facts I tried to stress
Circumstances are adequate for a strong case to be built
And a jury can be satisfied, of this man’s final guilt

The exacting criminal standard, of beyond a reasonable doubt
Is what you all must conclude, before you snuff his freedom out
But not every fact I tell you, just the elements of the crime
And I’ve told you why you should find my way, the verdict here is mine

He snuck in through the airport, with some seasoning and tea
Told Customs that it all was his, but through his story they did see
They searched his bags, and did some tests, and drug’s they found for sure
Then opened up the second box, oh dear, they found some more

“Yes ma’am, I did pack it, and I know exactly what is there”
But soon his version shifted, as Customs met his dare
“Actually”, he recanted, “t’was my girlfriend who helped me pack
Oh, now I’ve just remembered, it was all done when I got back"

Why would he bring from overseas, food you can easily buy here
Such objective bloody stupidity, to me it’s quite unclear
Cabramatta has a  thousand shops where you can get this stuff for cheap
But this here man, from Ho Chi Min, will soon have cause to weep

“My girlfriend told me what to do, although I really hate to cook
I’m told it’s good for smokers, and I don’t want to get crook
If I don’t like it I’ll pass it on, but I’m keeping half the tea”
What a shock he would have got, with hot ephedrine at three

Mostly untrue, this tale he’s told, a simple pack of lies
Rely upon your mother tongue, your Aussie accent do disguise
You’ve been here more than thirty years, you know the tricks for sure
You’ve been home about a dozen times, and this time’s just once more

Tomorrow we’ll have the jury back, with a verdict based on fact
Because nothing from his guilty actions, do we want to detract
But sentencing it won’t be harsh, it’s five years in the clink
And that’s the bloody maximum’s, these Tier One laws they stink

Sunday, 15 June 2014

June 15: Sunday at home ...

Sunday morning, bright and shiny, bloody heck it’s cold
As I head out to the garden, pretending to be bold
If I was a brass monkey, I’d really be in strife
The outcome I might suffer could not happen to my wife

In earnest hope of sunshine, I wheel the Wing out from the shed
It the water hose is frozen it’ll be doing in my head
She needs a wash, that much is true, there are bugs and dirt all over
A wash, a polish and we’ll be off, like bees buzzing in clover

I grab the hose and turn it on, and the water comes with force
Soon suds and foam develop, and I spray the chooks of course
Well I would spray them if we had some, but it’s too cold to get some more
So I wash and dry and polish, and then close the garage Roll-a-door

Next on my list of chores is some mowing and some edging
But I really am quite bored by now so I think I’ll do some sledging
As I watch the Sunday footy, scream out and grab a beer
As Phil Gould cites his anthem, “They love their Sunday footy here”

A Sunday roast, she’s quite a gal, that woman that I wed
A leg of lamb, a few red wines, clean up then off to bed
The alarm it’s set for half past five, and my head to rest I lay
Then before I’m asleep I’m up again, and to work I’m on my way

Saturday, 14 June 2014

June 14: Get rid of them all ...

I’m thinking that at the next election, we should just have a single party
What’s the point of a bunch of liars, telling porkies full and hearty
Let’s scrap the major parties, and the minority runners too
And let's do something to stop our Parliament from looking like a zoo

Every time one mob gets in, they break promise after promise
Is it any surprise that we all group, are one large doubting Thomas
We even have new names for them, are promises none core or are they core
Why bother even promising, if in your pledge you put no store

I for one have had enough, of funding these groups of liars
One mob goes out, one mob comes in, and then complains about the fires
That the other mob has left them, and of the state of pure disruption
If there was just one party, there’d be less waste and less corruption

Friday, 13 June 2014

June 13: Origin, Origin, ORIGIN ...

I've just had a thought, and my mind it is fraught
With the feelings I might be forced to embrace
When I watch my own team, end Queensland’s dream
Of winning nine Origins in a row in this race

It cannot be allowed and I will say it out loud
That the Cane Toads they must be destroyed
On this Wednesday night we will put up a fight
Or we all will be supremely annoyed

I predict we’ll be victorious, and the crowd will in chorus
Celebrate with one voice as we win the series
And begin the road back, knowing our plan is on track
As Queensland go back to the board and their theories

Thursday, 12 June 2014

June 12: Just get that crap off my tv ...

I’m told that Home and Away, we’ve seen its final season
Some people they see joy, others they see treason
I do not really give a toss, or even if there’s a reason
Just get that crap off my tv, extend the ratings season
I’ve never seen an episode, so I know not what it’s about
They say that it is crap tv, and of that I have no doubt
When they said that it was soon to end, I jumped up to shout
Just get that crap off my tv, and end the entertainment drought

So it’s off the screen, and I enjoy the beginning of the end
Send the cast to ABC, so their reputations mend
Perhaps they could do real tv, and stop the sad pretend
Just get that crap off my tv, that I truly recommend

I’ve said all that I want to say, so I’ll move onto another show
There is so much rubbish they call tv, half of it must go
Reality shows and who can sing, my anger overflows
Please get that crap off my tv, and end this tale of woe

Wednesday, 11 June 2014

June 11: Now shake it up baby now ...

On the eleventh of June, on a rainhy afternoon, the Fab Four they visited Australia
In nineteen-sixty-four, when they came to our shore, their first tour here it was not a failure
From city to city, chased by girls very pretty, they put upon show after show
They stages they played, and the fans they all stayed, and went where the Beatles did go

Rock and roll it was young, the songs that they sung came with dancing and the grinding of hips
That brought their parents to swear that their kids won’t be there, and words of love they fell from their lips
Four lads from Liverpool, with Ringo playing the fool, while young George was silent and strong
And with Paul and with John, who were urging them on, they couldn't stay still for too long

I’ve just seen a face, and Strawberry Fields is the place, where I just want to be holding your hand
With your face in a jar, you could be driving my car, when I saw stand there in the sand
Norwegian Wood saw me through, all my loving woudl it do, if I fell in love with you I’d feel fine
How I loved all their songs, they could right all my wrongs, that part of my youth was devine

Tuesday, 10 June 2014

June 10: RIP Rik Mayall ...

I used to watch the Young Ones, such a bloody funny show
And we marveled at the depths Rik’s trashy humour it could go
With his badly soiled white y-fronts, and his unwashed pimply face
As he flexed before the mirror, his scrawny body a disgrace

Unkempt hair and filthy clothes, once white bedsheets brown and green
Not one washed up pot or pan, and such filth you’d never seen
No cutlery, no crockery, they all had trashed the lot
The furniture it was splintered, so they lived on what they’d got

Also there was Vivian, who you wouldn't like to meet
Silver studs nailed to his head, Romper Stomper’s on his feet
And their house was full of vermin, but they didn’t care a bit
And Vivian was joyous so as long as Rik was there to hit

Not a stick of furniture survived Vivian’s daily violent rage
I laughed so much at what he did, my brain could not engage
He’d bash and crash and beat up Rick, who was just a little gay
But payback was worth waiting for, each and every day

Though Rik he was a ladies man, clad in flannels from New Orleans
But all his best liaisons they took place within his dreams
In that zone he was successful and the girls to him would flock
But Vivian put an end to that, when he woke him with a rock

And Neil the hippy pacifist, who lived on brussel sprouts
I really don’t know how he survived, living with those louts
Once Neil was a copper, and he knocked on his own front door
“Open up it's the pigs", he cried, which brought a fridge from the third floor

We laughed so hard it hurt us as we watched them in their mess
Unadulterated violence, back then we couldn’t have cared less
Now Rik he’s gone to heaven, but as only Vivian could say
“The selfish bloody bloody bastard, I should have killed him yesterday”