Now Don’t You Cry Freedom.

Oh where oh where has freedom gone?
Out the door in search of an alien foe,
Slain on an altar of the politically correct,
Banished by a funded money grub elite,
Damned at all costs by a Be Safe Brigade,
Duped by the demands of Keynes.

Oh where, oh where has freedom gone?
Bloody on Parliament’s cold uncaring floor.
Abandoned by a senate’s slamming door.
Cheered on by the totalitarian inclined.
Silenced by Human Rights’ human lefts.
Dumbed down by treacherous academics.

Oh where oh where has freedom gone?
Absent from the chatter of teaching clichés.
Lost amid volumes screeching a daily cycle.
Soiled in the lies and errors of the intranet.
Banished from the lines of prose and verse.
Confused by conflicted leftie prose poets.

Oh where, oh where is freedom found?
In the vanguard, with seeds of regret.
With those who recall a truthful past,
Adopting true mean of a life well lived.
Amid those others of no social import,
Cashed up Bogans, mates all unheeded.
Stranded in traditions of Hume thru’ Mill
Amid the supply of Smith, Mises and Hayek

Oh what should I do, I shudder to think,
Oh buggar this will have to do.
There, there Freedom will this soothe you?


The concrete block unit set

Cold by design inside and out.


Faded tunes.

Beatles let it be.

Credence revived.

Stones never sated.

Fleetwood unasked.

Wailing sirens an awakening.


A Stench or two of day old rubbish,

Whisked all together with blood,

Musk, spilt bourbon and diet coke.

Iced with lemongrass scented shower soap.


A threadbare floral carpet.

Ancient dishes piled high.

A demented toilet door,

A cemented laundry floor.

A toolkit of a tidy tenant:

A rake, a pitchfork, a hammer

And for Christ’s sake a sickle.


The bright morning flowing.

The front windows undraped.

The mousey neighbours nosey.

The dark blue policeman’s uniform,

The gruffness asked where was she,

The opaque glass front door shrieked.

The back door in gaping askance answered.


As she helped me from the hot crevasses,

Of the wrecked red stained pillowed lounge,

Useless in comfort or as a bed,

In her, softness asked if I was okay,

Everything I then just washed away.


Unforgettable words her senior stuttered,

As he swished the air with the sickle,

He’d discovered in a cupboard.

They were a dirge, yet fickle.

‘Mate you’re lucky she hadn’t found this,

And has only slashed you with the knife.’


I’ve sworn off double shot bourbons,

Drunk women and one night stands.

But when dammed testosterone dictates,

Where others fear aids and seek condoms,

In the fears of my past and in quiet terrors,

I keep a quiet eye out for slashing sickles.

Uninitiated into Students Rites

Silent night unholy night
All is still but bullets shrill
Silent night unholy sight
Lonely sit
Think hate tonight
Tomorrow lying tired
In a puddle lifeless
Blown away body parts
Poor wealth pretend
Multiple stabs in men
Single shots in women
Hurray I won
Gods forsake live like us
Shoot all fuckers guns
Blow all to hell my son
You’ve won
Dead as the dead inside
Share cold my son.

Not Me Fearful Teachers Teach

Hollywood the soul
Latest great one said
The heart he said
Brain dead
Dead remorse
Born killer disease
Karl’s moneyless
The states to blame
Where all’s fair win
Sadness reward embraced
Mothers weep, siblings seek
Fathers in silence groan
On and on and on it goes
No one knows
Analysis fake
Not him it’s men
Feminists point

In Mere Gulags of Communal Hate

Never Never Tomorrow’s Yesterday


Deny if it’s ya want

Don’t because ya can

You’ll fail in mere want

Because we rarely can


Forsake simple value form

Form ideas from simple value

Recalls values in simple form

Truths form in ideas of value.


Whitman and Dickenson

True red white and blue

Individuals not true blue

Where heroes narrow focus

Simple rhyme and in Ballard

Defined rather than described

In sheds of sharing knowledge

Etched on dusty red dry wall

Out where the dead men lie

Silent since slaughtered

On a bloody hillside cove

All buried unbloody known

In a common bloody outback


Ever to overcome another adoption

Of foreign collective bleating

Despite a prison of death despair

Roaring days live unstill within


True hearts of flint and granite

Squatting upon alluvial river plains

On queenly downs of verdant gold

In harbours of imprisoned history

Amid islands beautiful of holocaust

Echoes no longer blind granite hearts

Nor bind living flint stone spirits



A new dreamtime in a mindset web

Simply recall a shared stony past

Amid Eureka’s peace filled glory


A simple complex people

Replete respect in difference

Truth one only should repeat

The dreaming of the values

Of sharing uncommon ideas

Of ancient and not so ancient pasts


Form never long defines

Truth in a misshaped hand

Of ideas lost in literal foreign fog

A senseless literary complex crime

All foreignness a new cultural cringe

Feigned applause acclaim disguised

Still in common ancient resentment

In silently silenced song lines

Surviving cultural genocides


Antipodeans speak

Aloud in a quiet voice

Unless the footys on says Sarah

Not true at all contradicts her laconic Ben


Attuned to the ear

Of those who understand

Of stranger tongues unknown

Of a complex and simple mind

In a straight and complex way

In a voice that’s not corrupted

Nor intent upon alien domination

Nor diverted into foreign view


Ever asking simple answers

How we are the way we are

Custodians in a land that shapes us

Wanting no revisit into darker ages

All adapting to a true vision grand

In our future of 40,000 years ago.



The Free Pour of Latte Art


In cafes of furious consumption

Arise amid exclusive dalliance

Hasty undisciplined cousins

Of the rebellious poet Poe.


Over done strangled metaphor

Disdainfully all too pure prose

Yelling no grating pleasure

To the internal eye of the ear


Against one poet Poe

Socialist in criticism

Over one century today

Rise singular champions

Walt and Emily glow


Modern poets of yesterday

Added an Aussie critique

Modern conflicted poets

Flee two of the tea party

Neither at all confused

Short two centuries ago


Karl’s poets in individual ideology

Intent tear down conservative shape

Simple bowed aim an obscure stake

Denialist denial deconstructed truth

Recognisably all unconsciously fake.


The American shell liberty

In warring centuries trolls

Now imitate dark and drear

Flail limp clappers of plastic


Attacked hearts corruptly mired

Antebellum of murky mediocrity

Now newly murders equality

Misrepresents egalitarianism.


Written with heart true

Words sweet as acid

Varied in poetry too

As the oldest cynic did

Diogenes asks can you?


A daughter grand a simple two

An Aussie po poet of ballad

Few kens her content brew

But freest desultory judges

Rate her endeavours metaphoric


Unconflicted sincerity within

No bully mob of navel focus

Of the You Too Must Do

And I Know Best brigades

Her mere Aussie purpose

Defining straight and singular.