Sunday, 31 August 2014

August 31: Time please ...

Just why would I want something cold on my wrist
That gives me a beep, for calls and emails I’ve missed
Just why do I care, if I’ve missed it, it’s gone
I’ll call you back later, it won’t be that long

Will it do something useful, like store all my cards
Can it remember my banking, it cannot be that hard
My wallet it’s full of my plastic it’s true
I've got so many cards, just what should I do

They tell me I should not keep them all in one place
When they say that I give them my incredulous face
I’ve twenty-two cards, what do you suggest
A long string of wallets, wrapped round my chest

I have a suggestion if you’re willing to hear it
Put it all on one card, we all would cheer it
Or you could go one better, you'd all be so well known
If you could get all that info, into my phone

But yes I digress, let’s get back to my wrist
I was wanting a watch, but I’ll write you a list
Of the functions I want, in a wrist watch of mine
Are you listening up, just the date and the time

Saturday, 30 August 2014

August 30: Throw down your guns ...

I’m reading a story about heartless thrill killing
What excites these poor people, I find horribly chilling
They fly off to a country, hire a gun and a jeep
And then just for fun kill the wildlife they seek

Maybe it’s me, but I cannot see a reason
For killing wild game, whatever the season
I have a proposal, if you think you're so brave
Try it unarmed, if it’s the challenge you crave

Take on a tiger, with just your wits and your mind
Face to face with a rhino, how tough’s your behind
Unarmed try a zebra, you’ll get a kick out of that
If you’re wanting some horns, to stick on your hat

I think you’re a coward as you crouch with your gun
A mile from your quarry, so you can outrun
The innocent beast as it grazes alone
You're such a great hunter, get a pic on your phone

So you sip on your drink, and you all share a toast
As you discuss your day out, and you brag and you boast
Of how clever you are, as you reflect on your skills
I just pity you all as you tally your kills

Friday, 29 August 2014

August 29: Rain, rain, go away ...

Rain, rain, go away, I want to ride my Wing
It’s too damn wet outside my door
To ride the bloody thing

I can’t enjoy the corners, I cannot lean too far
Please bring back the sunshine
I don’t want to drive the car

I wait here very patiently, my helmet standing by
Knowing there'll be corners
When the clouds they leave the sky

Out again in sunshine, enjoying just the thrill
When there's sunshine and a Goldwing
I just can't sit still

Thursday, 28 August 2014

August 28: Russell Coight, pleased to meet you ...

I’m churning out this poetry, sometimes at three a day
This life it is so busy, and my days slip right away
I search to find a topic, an interest to exploit
I’ve written about loads of stuff, how 'bout Russell Coight

Australia’s rugged bushman, Alby Mangels without the chicks
He roams around the outback, as he uses bushman's tricks
To fight off all the critters, with venom in their fangs
Finding challenges almost everywhere, his life in his own hands

We chortle at his antics, and he fumbles through the days
Sets fire to his fireproof tent, his infalibility we praise
We all know it’s a miracle, that he is still alive
As he rambles all around the land, that now belongs to Clive

A cross between the Leyland’s, Harry Butler and Ben Cropp
Thinks nothing of a red back, or an humungous hungry crock
Not frightened of all the nasties, that we run from every day
The Bush Tucker Man and Malcolm, they'd have much to say

He a natural disaster, a catastrophe in khaki
He shies away from grubs and roots, preferring teriyaki
Been poisoned twenty two times, from berries that he’s eaten
But he will tell you very straight, his will shall not be beaten

So he loads up his Range Rover, ready for the next
Challenge in the desert, while we sit here perplexed
What is that thing he’s wearing, that’s perched upon his head
Wait, is it made of metal, good Lord, he think’s he’s Ned

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

August 27: I really miss you ...

You know I miss badly, and although it makes me sadly
I think about you every single day
It’s been ages since I’ve told you that I’m dying just to hold you
And that your memory will never fade away

Your charm was so alluring, and there is no chance of curing
This illness that is causing my decay
One sad day I might discover that you’ve found another lover
And then darkness will descend upon my day

So right now I need to tell you that I didn’t want to sell you
But when the passion disappeared you had to go
I was enamored by another, perhaps t'was your big brother
My heart told me that I should just go with the flow

So I’m sorry that you’re jaded, but best value saw you traded
And the new love in my life is just the thing
Don’t be sad that I’ve now left you, I loved everything we went through
But really, I could not walk past a brand new Wing

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

August 26: My bike is due for rego ...

My bike is due for rego, I hate this time of year
Pink slips and third party, all those things I fear
Will I need new tyres, will the blinkers flash
If in the affirmative, then I part with lots of cash

I take her to the workshop, a pink slip is my desire
He rolls my Wing around the floor, it’s making me perspire
I’ve had the thing at least eight years, I never would do that
Near half a tonne, with all the gear, my eyes behind my hat

It all goes good, everything works, the tyres are okay
Now for the third party, more cash I need to pay
For other people’s accidents, more money leaves my hip
Smoke comes from my credit card, there’s a fire in chip

I pay that fee, now rego, more cash I must withdraw
My number plate, it costs a bomb, each year it costs me more
How can that be, it’s just a rort, for once the thing is made
Not another penny, by anyone but me is paid

So, there we go, the bike is good, to take out for a blast
I wish, I wish, oh how I wish, that this one was the last
But underneath her cover, Val for her turn does wait
And just around the corner, my trailer needs a plate ...

Monday, 25 August 2014

August 25: My very own Opal ...

I got this card for travel, on the bus, the ferry and the train
Supposed to make things easier, but I’m just feeling pain
Nothing seems to happen as I wave the thing around
It’s s’posed to play a melody, but mine don’t make a sound

I stand there at the barrier, as a line behind me starts
I tap and wave, to no avail, I want to rip this thing apart
No-one makes a comment, and I know they’ve been here too
Why is it that our government, does not seem to have a clue

The Opal card they called it, who dreamed up such a name
A rock of many colours, from way down deep it came
Did they dig this up from underground, polish it and make it pretty
Or did they make a plan, to make commuters shitty

I really do not comprehend, why they think that it is so good
When it fails test 101, by not working as it should
But you know, I persevere, I need to catch this train
I stand in line, just waiting, and do it all again

Sunday, 24 August 2014

August 24: Before the sun gets washed away ...

I went out on the bike to day, before the sun got washed away
Tyres, petrol, all okay, so good to be back out
The traffic light, the road was dry, most pulled left, as I rode by
Still no clouds amused the sky, so I let Jimmy shout

Flames Trees is a favourite song, I love to play as I ride along
But do I spoil the song when I sing along, my voice is not that good
But I don’t care ‘cause as I ride, my helmet keeps my noise inside
So I yell and scream, I have no pride, I live it as I should

When Jimmy’s done, Paul Kelly’s next, I know his words, my vocals flexed
If you could hear, you’d be perplexed, his music is so fine
Down the highway to the Avon Dam, I hang a left, to catch the gang
My voices is hoarse, oh yeah, I sang, I sang like it was mine

I caught them up, and had a feed, I brought some stuff I didn’t need
Marty likes his steak to bleed, and everyone was there
We talked, we ate, we celebrate, ‘cause Pete and Dot, they both look great
Then later on, we dissipate; I rode off without a care

I did the same trip, in reverse, I saw a copper, I began to curse
To book me now would be perverse, I’m only a wee bit over
I wind her back, I have a look, he’s creeping up, he’s overtook
The big black Ute; no I am mistook, I’m in a field of clover

I’m home again, so safe and sound, the bikes away, a beer is found
A fantastic day, pound for pound, and now the footy’s on tv
Manly Penrith, should be a thriller, if the refs are not the killer
I pour a bourbon, I add some filler, how happy could I be

That was my most magic Sunday, but back to work, tomorrow’s Monday
Once a week we all need a fun day, to keep us on the plane
What challenges will the next week bring, will I get a call, will I be asked to sing
I could not imagine such a thing, I’ll just try to remain sane

Saturday, 23 August 2014

August 23: All clear in black and white ...

My mate he takes these photographs in crispy black and white
As he wanders through the city streets, in the daytime and at night
Emotions captured on the footpath, lives frozen still in time
Not posed, not staged, unbeknown, street shooting is no crime

The photographs they tell a tale, a story of their being
Not you, not I, not anyone, sees what his lens is seeing
They're all there on Flikr, log on and have a look
And if we're really lucky, he'll put them in a book

Friday, 22 August 2014

August 22: Pass me the Kleenex ...

I sit here with a Kleenex, dabbing tears that stain my face
It seems that age has caught me, and it’s put me in my place
It is not me, please understand, though I’ve aches that I can claim
But blokes who I have known before, their lives beset by pain

Life is such a miscreant; things are often just not clear
Why do these things just creep up, and whack you in the ear
There’s no simple no rhyme or reason, why it works this way
And it is so very, very difficult, to know just what to say

But these blokes I know are fighters, and they will not give in
Surrounded by friends and family, they do their best to grin
They take on what life it throws at them, never will they concede
But all I can do is wish them well, that I do is guaranteed

It might take weeks, months or years, but this fight it will not end
And I hope this rhyme expresses, the feelings that I send
They know we are all with them, as they parry, thrust then strike
Best wishes to the both of you, tell your invader, “take a hike”

We all think there is so little, we can do to get them through
Does what we want mean anything, is there anything that I can do
But what is the real alternative, I cannot just sit and wait
None of us could do that, never, not for any mate

Thursday, 21 August 2014

August 21: Sacked over the phone ...

I had a job in Queensland, I was working in the mines
Apparently my time was up, their needs were in decline
I was sitting on the dunny, checking messages on my phone
When a text message from my CEO, drew from me a groan

How bloody rude is this I thought, as I reached out for the paper
Sacked by bloody SMS, just what here is this caper
I clipped my belt, I left the hut, and stormed off in a huff
Inside their million dollar Ute, I had had enough

I drove a bit, then stopped the truck, it’s not cool to drive and text
My mind it was in turmoil, just what could I do next
I opened up the message app, and with my fingers and my thumb
Ripped them out a message, with a reference to the sun

“Thank you for your SMS, but this phone is yours not mine
But you can shove that bloody message, right where the sun don’t shine
You can poke your dirty, filty job, 'cause I just don't give a f%$k
And you can keep your bloody severance pay, coz mate ... I’ve got your truck

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

August 20: The charity shag ...

Kathy was a whistleblower, worked for the HSU
She saw some bad behaviour, so she thought of what to do
Told anyone who’d listen, of what she’d just discovered
But forgot the smallest detail, to keep her own arse covered

Some people with the power soon smoked her into sight
With Thompson doing time for fraud, the others saw a fight
Kathy got a summons, to make a trip  to the Commission
To talk about all her mates, taking perks without permission
She hopped the box and took the oath, gave evidence so fine
But when cross-examination came, she wanted to decline
The guy who then was on his feet, with her had had his way
She told the good Commissioner, she didn't want to play

She would not take it lying down, if you’ll excuse the pun
As the Barrister he pressed her, she saw a moment for some fun
She remembered many years ago, when she first met this fellow
When for a brief and hazy time, they shared their own bordello

She had to get her own back, this chance it could not pass
His needed to put him in his place, to sit him on his arse
So when her moment it was over, and interest began to flag
Her passion with that man she said, was just a charitable shag

A comment borne of bitterness, that did nothing for her cause
What really did the girl expect, instantaneous applause
It made her sound pathetic, as she aimed below the belt
He laughed it off, and aimed her up, clear victory’s what he smelt

'Charity shag': HSU whistleblower Kathy Jackson.


Tuesday, 19 August 2014

August 19: Uncle Dan's cellar ...

I don’t know why I need to buy a bottle for my cellar
When Uncle Dan has a shop, next to my bank’s auto teller
I just pop in when stocks are grim and buy another case
And take it back to my own shack, and quaff it at my own pace

All this to do about buying a few, and then you put them down
Why not have a bash, and spend your cash, in the flashy part of town
I’m still confused about why they choose to keep them on the rack
With a great big sign, on every wine, don’t drink ‘til God comes back

It’s not my go, I’ll let you know, to let it sit and age
Drink it soon, that’s my tune, you know it’s all the rage
My palate’s sure there’s plenty more, just down the local shops
With a better range, some very strange, but the prices they are tops

Sometimes on line I do get mine, when postage is thrown in free
A box or four, left at the door, and I know it’s all for me
So don’t ask me if you can see, my cellar down below
All my wine is perfectly fine, at Dan Murphy’s don’t you know

Monday, 18 August 2014

August 18: Too much yacking, not enough cracking ...

As I sit here, in my working gear, waiting to get crunched
My patience is wearing, I’m beyond caring, my time is getting bunched
She’s three behind, should I be unkind, why does she run so late
Too much yacking, not enough cracking, too many on her plate

I don’t know why, she tries to pry, six patients into one hour
Is it just for money, this is not funny, my mood is turning sour
I should just say, you’ll get your pay, when I’ve charged my daily fee
I bet that sign would get her back on time, and get her seeing me

I’ll take a tractor to my chiropractor, and bulldoze my way in
My appointment time is now behind, and I cannot force a grin
When she comes out, and looks about, and sees that there’s just me
And will just state, “sorry I’m late”, as if its fun to see

I’ll leave a bill, set on her till, for the hour that I waited
What will she say when I want my pay, she won’t be elated
I do not care, this is not fair, what about my time
If I was late, I know my fate, it would be called a crime

Sunday, 17 August 2014

August 17: Just not my type ...

I was standing there, next in line
“One short black”, it wasn’t mine
Then I overheard this short exchange
By some ladies within hearing range

My current man is not my type
I’m over all his bullshit hype
He sends me stuff I do not want
I need advice, should I confront

Flick him quickly, send a note
Buy a heavy, hooded coat
When you see him look away
Then he’ll be gone, less than a day

Another email, professing his desire
He thinks he really lights my fire
I’ve had it really, up to here
Eject him from my stratosphere

I grabbed my coffee, and my toast
And in my head I heard the roast
That she would serve him when they spoke
I think he'll be needing rum and coke

Saturday, 16 August 2014

August 16: All right when she's gone ...

Do you think of her on the cold dark nights
Does she haunt your thoughts when you dim the lights
Do you ever think it will be alright
All right when she’s gone

Do you think of her on sunny days
Does she fill your head, creating a haze
Is this just a passing phase
All right when she’s gone

Does your heart feel heavy, does it hurt inside
Has she touched your manly pride
Are your feelings true, or have they lied
All right when she’s gone

Time will pass, your heart will mend
Do not give your time, or spend
You precious moments wasting time
Thinking of her smile

It clearly was not meant to be
It’s no good staring out to sea
Soon enough, you will be free
All right when she’s gone

Friday, 15 August 2014

August 15: Drowning in my shame ...

I’m sorry that I made you hate
It was not what I intended
It left me with a broken heart
When our friendship ended

I regret the things I did and said
That caused you so much pain
I lost my way, I fell apart
I’m drowning in my shame

It will never be like it once was
Sad I know, but true
I yearn for a time to come my way
When I’m not thinking about you