Author: mayet

Mirror Mirror on the wall, Who is the Faerest of us all? The Truth are we in the skies you see, The Balance of Fire And Water is Elektricity.

Kameruka The Meeting Tree 2008

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Today I am sitting at the farm on the edge of my bed drinking a fresh aromatic cappuchinno coffee and daydreaming. Once, a few weeks ago I would daydream about the future work I would put into the farm and the animals, today I daydream about tomorrow, whatever that will bring.

I love sitting here. I look out directly at “kameruka” the meeting tree, with the bird feeder standing proudly at the foot of it. Behind Kameruka I can see all the way down to the dam in the back paddock and I can just see the top of the water from the bed. Over the next week I am going to introduce the ducks to the dam (duck dam) and build them a little *portable* shelter down there. I can see the bright blue sky and steadily darkening pink tinged clouds through the branches of the tees. All around me is the sounds of “the bush” with bird tweetering and calling each other, mixed in with the occasional calls from the roosters. I can not see a sign of hooman development out my window. Only nature and the joys and wonders it has to share.

  • Midnight my adorable billygoat who ate his lead and came knocking at the door for "midnight snacks"

The yard is sprinkled with various animals all over. The chickens are pecking for juicy fat grubs in small groups around the bird feeder and water tanks and the bantams are poking their fluffy heads out from the branches of the willow tree nearby. Arnold and Elwood are sprawled out down near the pen, catching the last late afternoon sun’s rays shining down from between the trees.

Apostle Birds, Parrots, doves and pigeons are scattered amongst the chickens and ducks, all  fighting over the seeds I have strewn along through the grass. Not far away, Terrance the turkey is all fluffed out, whoom’ffing every minute or so while standing guard over his wives Thelma and Louise along with his daughter Teresa as they peck around the compost heap. The goats are all down between my window and the dam, they are starting to all lie down and position themselves for the cold winter’s night ahead. Snowy is looking like she willl drop her baby any minute now.

The animals all roam around the yard during the day now. There is no need to keep them penned. They choose to stay with me and they are free, freer than me …….I know. Everything is calm and peaceful as they all gather the last feed before sleep time.

Yesterday I sat down in the grass above the dam after I had moved the goats and given them fresh water in their troughs and I relaxed, possibly for the first time in years. I sat watching the goats gallovanting around with each other and feeding on the green stubbly weeds in the paddock. Dora was reaching up on her hind legs to nibble at the juicy young gum leaves off the trees and Toffee was standing on her tree stump above everyone else, surveying her domain.  There was a grunt behind me near where Glen was untangling little Glen the goats rope from the latest mess he had got himself into. I swear when they cut his balls out his brain went with them. I turned to big Glen and watched behind him as Arnold and Elwood the pigs made their way noisily towards us.

The pigs have quite fascinating unique personalities. They scare me a little after seeing them kill one of the chickens when she was injured and then tear her apart. I see the dangerous possibilities there. Maybe they have a fair bit of feral (wild) blood in them because they could turn quite ferocious I think.

Arnold, the spotted pig is the leader of the pair. She is much larger and fatter than her black sister and much more extroverted. They still don’t like human contact or to be touched, even by me and they express their displeasure very loudly in grunts and squeals if you reach out to them. If the other animals get in their way at the food trays they shove them aside with their snouts and stand on the trays, hoof deep in slop food, pigging away.

The water trough is funny to watch. All the chickens line up along it drinking from it. When they have all had a good drink and the ducks have had a wash down, Arnold and Elwood come and have a bath. One at a time they climb into the trough and roll around in it having a grand old time.  The water trough is made out of a 44 gallon plastic drum which has been sliced in half so when the pigs jump in, the whole trough rolls from side to side with them. They seem to have more fun than most people at a waterpark.

They showed another side yesterday though. They trotted noisily up behind Glen towards me and Arnold came and sat down beside me. She stared at me. I stared at her. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind at that point in time… It was probably something like “where’s the food bitch, I’m hungry”. After all Arnold is a real pig and a constant food shredding machine.

I stayed still but still talked to Glen while me and Arnold sat there enjoying each others company. Elwood looked at Arnold and I with a look of disgust and she soon squealed loudly and went and buried herself in some soft dirt over near midnight the billy goat. Arnold just sat beside me, seemingly enjoying the tranquility as much as I did.

They say pigs are intelligent. I see that in many ways but I would more call it cunning. I have watched them walk up to a barrier I have just erected and put their bulldozer snouts underneath to lift it up. Then they just walk on through. “Pig Proof” is hard to achieve. They are great at digging gardens, if that could be controlled in the area I want it, then I wouldn’t need a rotary hoe. They bury their snout in the ground and just furrow along with brute strength and force, not unlike a mining machine. Whenever I walk down the yard with the blue feed bucket now I feel like the pied piper of Hamlin. I am followed by two pigs at my heels trying to trip me up, 8 goats, 5 ducks, 4 and a half turkeys, a sprinkling of roosers, various silkies and bantams and 11 Rosemary’s (the brown layer chickens are all called Rosemary because you can’t differentiate between them. *sigh I really need my camera back)

*interjection.. I hate running out of coffee halfway through a cigarette while writing a blog….I’ll be right back…

That is better where was I.. ah the dam and the pigs…

Arnold sat with me and enjoyed the tranquility a while longer before she decided I had no food for her so with a grunt towards her sister, she trotted slowly down into the dam. Elwood wiggled herself up and followed. Soon the two pigs were in the dam together having a fantastic time “mud bathing” They made sure they were both smothered in mud before they came back up the bank and shook themselves like dogs do. They wandered off back up towards the pen.It is quite amazing to watch the connection between the two pigs. They flow together in movements, turns and speeds and always seem to head in same direction. When they are separated they squeal to let each other know where they are.

As I sat there I realized how content inside I am. How relaxing my environment has become. How much at peace I am from a turmoiled soul.

It is all so relaxing. It is calming and peaceful. I feel at peace. No matter what “murphisms” are going on around me, I still feel calm and at peace inside. I know its the farm and the atmosphere I have built here that is responsible for my inner peace.

A tiny piercing sharp pain runs through my heart as I think about how soon it will all be taken from me. I have my garden seeds ready to plant out but no desire to do so. Will I be here to reap what i sow? Literally…..

What will tomorrow bring?

The stillness surrounding me calms my soul and allows me to carry on. I have dreams, I have goals I have plans….I have hope and aslong as hope remains……. life is good…

Footnote 1

I will answer comments on my prior blog shortly. As I am writing this my net is down once again. It went down for three hours late last night as well. I don’t get to spend much time on here and so I was rather piffed that it did it when I did have the time to sit down and “surf” myspace.

Footnote 2

To update everyone about the goats. I have partially solved the mystery. After speaking to the council and raising my concenrs that this was a “nuisance call” over my “nuisance goats”, it was tracked down. At first the source of the mystery couldn’t be found but after a few hours and a call back it was explained… Someone drove passed my house and “apparently” saw my goats near or on the road so they rang council. Council came straight out and could find no goats anywhere near the road but saw my goats way down near the house. So the paperwork was generated because they had come out here.

We both remarked how strange the whole thing was and I had previously explained that the goats never went anywhere near the front, the front fence or out the front gate. They are scared of their own shadow, let alone traffic and noise. They have never been near there. As she said… council found NOTHING when they came out straight away so yeah…. hmmm. it was around the same day that the first house inspection happened…. co incidence or funny peculiar I don’t know. But at least the council knows now that it may be a troublemaker. They admitted it didn’t come from any neighbours. In fact they didn’t even have a name of who did report it.. sus eh..

Footnote 3..

Frankenfish and his four wives are doing great. Of an afternoon they all gather near the top of the pond waiting for the girls to come out with their daily feed rations. Frank is still about three times the size of his wives but they are all growing and thriving in the pond. They are quite pretty to watch swimming around and nibbling at the food.

Footnote 4

I can’t do much other than sit here on the bed and grimace or cry out every now and then. I pulled my back out rather badly when feeding the animals so I am enjoying the rest while I am forced to endure it.. I hate being ill or injured.. I tried lifting the feedbags this morning and now I can barely move my right leg.. argghhh .. I’ll be right in a coupla days.. nothing keeps me down long..

Blackberries

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Published 2008

I wrote this one the other day for Jersey Girl and Munch. Yes Munch you handsome devil, you inspired this little ditty. (rip munch)

So this is in tribute to Jersey Girl’s blackberry contest.

She is hot she is ready
and she is willing to go
then she tells you something
that you didn’t want to know

you lean back then to listen
with your fingers deep inside
between that luxury softeness
your hand just gently glides

She stops what she is doing
and looks up into your eye
she starts to speak the dreaded words
that are going to make you cry

your body is working overdrive
dicks as hard and stiff as rock
hurry and finish telling this
all I want to do is have a FOK

She smiles that sweet coy smile now
and wraps her hands around your gun
it twitches up towards her
as the juices start to run

hunny you know I want you
and your tongue between my thighs
I want you doing dirty deeds
but I canna tell a lie

tis the time for me of blackberries
the juicy gift from all the gods
that come raining down from heaven
and make for berry messy clods

So unless you want your face red
or to look like freddies revenge
I wouldn’t dine down there tonight
in that slick gooey blackberry menge

you take your hand from within her
dang you had four fingers in
you place your hand upon her back
and let out a little grin

as you rub her shoulders lovingly
and massage up her curvy back
you lay her gently on the bed
your dicks now on the slack

you cup her face into your hands
and gaze deep into her eyes
there will always be another day
but for now I have to fly

it takes a minute to reclothe
and leave her snoring on the bed
she is smiling that secret smile again
as dreams of teasing are in her head

you close the door to the apartment
and get into the tower’s lift
you wonder what her husband will think
as he arrives to your fingerprinted gift

Thanks to which most of myspace has a new slang term to add to their vocab.

Thanks to the judges, the contestants and thanks mostly to those friends and readers that voted my entry. It was a fun time to be had by all.

Munches was the best by far and hence why his little ditty inspired this little dirty ditty.

True Blue

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I have often been asked about my wicked sense of humor and fun and where it came from. Many of you will know about my Dear old Dad and the rolling pin so you can guess where much of it comes from but it is more than that.

It is a cultural and nationwide way of looking at life that is uniquely Australian.

Australian’s often are labeled “laidback” and “casual” with the ability to laugh at ourselves as a nation as well as finding the fun things and the humorous side of events. We are indeed in general very casual and laidback, especially when it comes to our own selves. Maybe it is a part of our proud convict heritage. Every Australian proudly claims at least one first Fleet convict as their own anscestor. We are honest and forthright.. perhaps a non political correct species but we say what we think.

On the other hand Australian’s are also courageous, loyal and strong willed. We make great friends and the word “mate” is a valued part of our vocabulary. Australian’s will walk a mile for their mates when the “chips are down” and will be there for them when called. We help others and do not turn our backs on people who need help. Although sadly once again as time marches forward in the new millenium people everywhere are becoming colder and more heartless.. concerned with the chase for the dollar rather than giving a person a hand up

Australian’s have a built in “Bullshit detector” and do not suffer fools gladly. An Aussie will tell you that you are full of it without a blink of an eye. We are an straightforward little quirky species that sees beyond what is presented to us and that allows us to take away a full color pallete of events.

We are a multicultural race of people.. Australia is only a few hundred years old so an Australian’s anscestors can come from anywhere in the world but we are all Australian.
We treasure our leisure. We used to find enjoyment in the simple things.. beer and barbeques, a drink down the pub with our mates, footy on weekends, camping and fishing in the bush. All that is changing as hi society, technology and urban pressure starts to prevade and overtake our lives.

But we still stand on our colonial roots. We have an expression for something that is Australian and is REAl ..
that is

“True Blue”

I was raised in a “True Blue” environment. My Dad made sure of that by showing me so much of our beautiful land as a child and by introducing to to just about every single “Aussie Character” that ever lived in the “Real Australia”. I lived the aussie dream as a kid. I was so lucky to have such a wide variety of experiences and such a deep introduction and education of this beautiful land and the unique peoples.

I remember being nine years old and camping in the middle of Australia’s central desert at a place called Devils Marbles. I hadn’t bothered pitching a tent as experienced had shown me that it was impossible to hammer tent pegs into rock ground, so I had laid the tent out as a ground sheet then inflated my matress and “bob’s your uncle” … I was ready for bed .. sleeping under a blanket of stars in the outback..That night I will never forget and I still see the sky that night clearly in my min

I have related earlier the story of assisting the guests to try and pitch their tents by showing them the softest ground possible but being “noobs” as they were, they kept trying to hammer into solid rock.

There was another side of this event that is typically Australian and True Blue. Later that night the team leader and my dad got everyone together and held a “kangaroo court” around the fire. This was a mock court trial where all the guests were put on trial for their “crimes”. My mum was up first. Mum’s crime was to fall asleep in the Coach with her mouth open snoring. her Kangaroo Court punishment was to have her mouth taped up with duct tape for three hours that morning while traveling. When it got to me, my crime was talking to much all the time so I got the duct tape treatment too.. except I kept dissolving in a fit of giggles and ripping it off. Another older girl and guy on the trip had gotten real “close” to each other so they were sentenced to be tied by the arm to other partners for the day and another couple of guys who hated each other were sentenced to be tied together and to sleep in the same tent. Then it came the turn of the little group of guests who kept pitching their tents in the solid rock. What a travesty in Australia. What a crime.. Aussies who just can’t “camp out” proper like. Their punishment was to have to be the first out of the coach every night for the remainder of the trip and have their tent up ready for inspection within five minutes with everyone watching and cheering them on. Considering they had never pitched a tent within an hours time this was quite some challenge for the group and a hell of a lot of laughs for all of us….It was all a riot of laugh

Thats just Aussie humour.. and laughing at ourselves…. True Blue
Australian Comedians Writers Poets and artists of all kinds have influenced our way of thinking immensly over time just as society at the time has been reflected in these peoples work. I grew up around campfires and in “aussie pubs” listening to these people perform and laughing my ass off the entire time. These people made us as a nation, laugh at ourselves, at our oddities and quirks and at the things that differentiated us from the rest of the world.

Legends like Kevin Bloody Wilson and Rodney Rude paved the way for a unique style of comedy that is totally Australian. Every Aussie over the age of 30 can recite and sing these and other Aussie legend’s songs when drunk and disorderly. It is part of our culture and the popularity of these guys helped a nation have the ability to laugh at themselves.

Entertainers like Steve Irwin and Crocodile Dundee would not have made sense to the world and especially to Aussies, if these pioneers hadn’t blazed a trail of “Aussism” across the world before them. These Comedians and entertainers had totally politically incorrect material but all True Blue Aussie. So what do we do today with this work of the years that have passed that is so politically incorrect?

Do we as Australians toss out and ignore an important part of our heritage because it is so politically incorrect? Do we now “act” embarrassed about our prime comedians and entertainers like Kevin Bloody Wilson and Rodney Rude and pretend they never existed? Do we now whisper their names in shame or scratch their names off our famous people lists?

Do we stop laughing now because we are told we are not supposed to think that it is funny anymore? Were we as a nation wrong to think it was funny in the first place?

I freely admit it.. These guys inspired me…

Wonder Woman

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Today I am going to do something a little different

but then that is me. Mrs Different.

When I was a little kid I loved watching two shows on Saturdays. I had to watch these shows and my family soon realized that to allow me to watch them was the best for their peace, tranquility and health. I really looked forward to Saturdays because of these two shows. Oh plus having no school and a full day to explore my world helped.

On Saturday mornings, in amongst my weekly cartoon dose and fill-up was a show I loved, called “The Secret of ISIS”.

And on Saturday nights, well there was WONDER WOMAN.

Wonder Woman rocked. Especially the way she would casually toss her shiny Brunette mane of hair at the same time as her little thin golden rope and with a secret little coy smile on her face she would trap and entwine her dastardly targets.

To a kids eyes, she ruled. She showed and taught me so much. I learned that it was ok to be strong, virtuous and courageous and it was ok at the same time to be a lady. That was what was best about her to me. Her femininity. Xena Warrior Princess came well after Wonder Woman as an Amazonian Warrior female but somehow I just cannot imagine Xena showing up for her latest beautician’s appointment after just slaying the giants. Or admiring the latest portraiture at the local gallery followed by dinner at a French restaurant and washed down with soft music and drinks after a busy day sword fighting with Mars. I liked Xena well enough, I had to as I had an Ex husband that Woodied over her as well as a child who idolized her but to me, she just wasn’t Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman was refined and cultured. She was dignified and humble. Wonder Woman was always on the side of truth, justice, the weak and powerless and all things good in the world. She was strong and intuitive. She was gracious and charming. Everything that embodies and encompasses WOMAN was within WONDER WOMAN. She was woman and is woman. All women have a little of Wonder Woman deep down inside them. She was everything that I admired as a small child and everything that I wanted to be when I grew up.

Oh except the red blue and gold suit disaster.. sorry hun, not my colors.. something flowing and purple, with some blues and pinks through it mayhaps. And really, a tiny skirt would have helped.. yes you have lovely child bearing hips but there is somethings that should be delicately hidden. SEE ISIS – Her little pleated skirt number rocked.

.and those boots.. what happened to a simple nice pair of Black CFM boots.

Kids need Heroes and Superheroes to idolize and worship who are always humbly fighting the bad and single handedly saving the world in their mild mannered way so that as those kids grow up they will try to be that heroic good person, quietly off saving the world from evil and harm.

 

Dear World – A letter from Santa

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My name is friggin Santa Claus
You had better get it right
I only come round once a year
In the middle of the night

I make toys for all the children
and for grown up kids as well
They all sit on Santa’s knee
and whine and have a yell

Please Santa Claus I want a bike
I want a skateboard or two
Give me a brand new surfboard
It makes santa want to spew

You always say that you’ve been good
But we both know that’s not true
I remember all those things you did
when you thought I never knew

I ho ho here, I ho ho there
and get fatter by the day
I smile and grin and wave a lot
And ignore what you have to say

You ask for gold and diamonds
I brings you socks and pants instead
You think your getting what you want
I bring you lumps of lead.

I haven’t seen my toes in years
My bum scrapes on the ground
I wear a stupid red suit
And my sac that weighs 10 pound

I’m married to a bloomin’ witch
They call her Mrs Claus
I’m always walking eggshells
She’s always bangin’ doors

She’s mean an yells and stamps a lot
and rages on all the year
I love it when she gets that mad
She blows wind out from her rear

But she cooks me chocolate brownies
So I think I’ll keep her around
And those delicious yummy pork chops
That make my belly face the ground

I’ve got some bloody reindeer
along with a very stupid one.
They call him Rudolph red nose
I could just kick him up the bum

He gets into my woodshed
and leaves his Shit in there.
He sneaks into my rum room
and gets pissed as a polar bear

I’m sure the elves are growing weed
Out beyond the garden shed
They sneak out there for hours
and come back inside a bloodshot red

I party with the tooth fairy
the easter bunny comes to stay
I dig it when they come around
It means it’s time to play

We go out to the stripper bar
To an igloo in the next town
the easter bunny buys the drinks
we all perve and skol it down

So If you hear Santa coming
Cover the kiddies ears real tight
I’m off visiting the girls next door
and spreading love and light

to parents the whole world over
I have a message to send to you
If you fancy being in my bad books
Then don’t clean the chimney flue

If you have a fire blazing hot
Make sure I’ve somewhere to land
Cos if I burn my feet one more time
I won’t be capable to stand

If You don’t have a chimney
don’t lock the blasted door
You don’t really expect Santa Claus
To climb up the through kitchen floor

I’m sick of milk and cookies
They just pour out my bum
I demand some care and quality
Please leave out the top shelf rum

And if you are hot and single
Please turn on the bedside light
Because Santa wants to visit you
And stay right through the night

I know this letter is an epic
But it’s all in fun and free
The magic that is Christmas
This is my gift for you to see!!
Mayet
(South Pole Santa)

Polygamy and Raids

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April 2008

May has something to say and her fingers did the walking….. *grins

Last week I touched on the story of the polygamist compound raid in texas that has seemingly polarized the nation.

I found I have more to say on this matter. SO I decided to blog it today and open some discussion.

These bad men were caught and stopped from violently raping and beating their many wives. Children were being raped and impregnated and held against their will. The authorities did a great job in bringing these freaks down.

Is that how you saw it?

Yes that is the way it has been presented but after watching it all over the past week some questions are starting to raise in my head. Lots of them. mainly about the wrongs and rights of the whole shemozzle.

On the surface, in the eyes of men and women in America today, these women and children are supressed and abused and living an attrcious life.

But are they? Or are we judging these people to our own social standards?

There is some “issues” I have with the whole debarcle.

In the 90’s there was another Texan cult. The name David Koresch still to this day sends fear into the hearts of people around the world and the whispered word “cult” soon gets bandied around. In 1996 tanks, armed gunmen, helicopters and army all invaded the Waco compound and within 30 minutes there was over 100 dead. At first everyone bought the justification for the raid but soon things emerged that were not quite right. Mistakes were made. fatal ones.

Now we have the armed commando raid on this polygamy compound.

Polygamy right or wrong.

Today as a species we have moved that far from all that is natural that WE HAVE FORGOTTEN what is natural to us. We have forgotten instinct and what is right.

I am not saying that polygamy is the way to go for the human race but lets look at natural selection for a minute here. It is all around you in nature. The survival of the fittest, only the strongest genes carry through. The fight for alpha status in the tribe and the right to “have the women”. In the kangaroo population and I know the same goes for lions in Africa, there are large amounts of juvenile rogue wanderers. The alpha male gets his pride of females and the juvenile males are cast out to fight amongst themselves for supremecy and they wander, to find an eventual mate.

Humans used to do this too but then something happened. Oh yes I can hear you saying it now. Humans became “civilized”. Citizen, civilian, servitude, servant slave. Oh that right. yes we became controlled.

So when we look at nature we can see that polygamy is a natural occurance to ensure the survival of the fittest. Ok then, so who told us this was wrong, Oh thats right, the bible, the same book that tells us to treat women as chattels (Christianity is the ultimate patriarchial religion and sun/son fire male worshipper), it also tells us that homosexuals should be killed and I could go on with the crap that was written because of that control. So I should listen to this book that incites hatred should I or should I listen to the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees.. and a little thing called LOVE.

Who are we to judge how these people live their lives? Who are we to take their children. Who are we to tell them the way they are living is wrong.

Can you say glasshouse and humungous rocks.. boulders in fact………

Lets look at the dirty side of the coin. These people work hard, they “slave” away in garden to acheive self sufficiency for their families. Their children are alongside them. We slave away in concrete office block, working our lives for the man and ignoring our children, leaving them to school and day centres to raise.

They produce their own food. Pure and natural and not a drain on system. We produce GM toxin enriched foods that are slowly or fastly destroying our planet and food chain. We buy hormonal chicken and feed on madonalds and other assorted fast foods. They live in a quiet peaceful society, relative free of crime. We live in a greedy 7 deadly sins society of anything goes that is full of dangers to us and children.

They have great access to health care. Many have glasses and braces on teeth. They are warm and surrounded by love.

These people have seen the evils in society today and chosen to live apart form it. They see that mankind has sown the seeds for his own destruction and so they have prepared themselves to be an enclosed unit. If this so called dreded bird flu sweeps our countries. Who has more chance of survival. Will you have a better chance in the middle of a big city or town fighting for medical help, fighting for food and water, surrounded by greed. Or these people who have lovingly prepared themselves for such an eventuality. And don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a far fetched analogy. in 22 article I pulled up on the bird flu in 2006, every single one of them had the exact same line in it. Scientist have FEARS and WARN that the bird flu will mutate into a DEADLY PANDEMIC. wow all thsoe fears.. can you image the chaos when it starts.

These peple wear funny dresses. Have you seen a goth or an emo lately? I actually admired the pastel colors and the neat clean and tidy appearance of the families.

 

They share a husband. Well lets get down to this. I’ve spoken to polygamists and read and watched many things over the years in my efforts to understand. From a womans point of view. She shares chores, instead of herself doing everything, those household tasks are shared, in company, the child minding is shared. Then there is the company and the support. Women need to have their “girls”, someone to talk to, share fears, comfort them and to support them in areas that men’s brains are just not wired for. The support and friendship between polygamist wives is incredible. They are closer than sisters. They care only about the family. The whole family. That is their gig in life. Their family.

and lets face it girls… you know those nights that you have a headache? ..No such worry.. no pestering with the woodpecker in the back all night..

In any culture you have rogue elements. Especially ones that can infiltrate such an oganization and use or be used by others. Our own chaotic and deviant society full of crimes drugs and abusers infects the very air these people breathe. So even if they choose o live away from society, they have no choice but to face societies consequences. They will get freaks and oddballs trying to join for their own agenda.

It brings me to mind the witch trials and religious persecution of the early centuries. Burn them. Kill them, they are different.

Are we going to raid nudist camps next and take their kids?

So everyone cries out “but there was an allegation of abuse”

When an organization becomes to big and independant for their boots and starts having people listen to them and achieve some independance from the system a campaign is started, to destory credibility and to give a ‘reason” for the takeover and bringing down of independance. How easy would it be, to slip someone next to a known sex offender and have him whisper in his ear about this magic place where he could have 4 or 5 young women all at once. Zap, dude wouldn’t even ask questions except for directions before he would be off like a shot. Done deed, let nature take its course and two years later a whispered phone call alleging abuse of a girl who has since not been found, is all the excuse you need.

Until 1830 or so the legal age of consent in England was 13. There are still many nations where the age of consent is that low. Do we run in with commando raids to those countries and take over with guns and take the children oh wait we used missionaries for that.. cos the bible told us so….do we march in and tell them they are living wrong, they should live like us in concrete jungles, with artificial food, shitty health services, crimes, drugs, divorce, abuse and *sigh……… yeah……

50 years ago in Australia we had the stolen generation of Australians. A whole generation of aboriginal babies taken from their mothers and placed with white families because they had a bit of white in them. (well hey, I have a bit of black in me, does it make it right for aboriginals to take my children and return them to the tribe? tit for tat). It was done because society said it was wrong for those children to live with their families, it was wrong for white children to live with black families. It destroyed a generation.

Today the government says sorry it was wrong.. small peace of mind for the stolen ones

40 years ago babies were taken from single mothers and adopted out. The mothers were told it was wrong, that it was a sin, that it was a crime. Another generation destroyed. Those children didn’t get an apology.. unlikely they ever will.. they just see the confusion of a society that accepts and condones and encourages in some areas what they were cast out for at birth.

You see as many readers know I was one of those children, taken from my mother who was 18. SHe was told it was a sin to have me and not be married. I was taken from her arms and adopted into a nice christian family and led to believe all my live as a child that my mother had sinned. I was that much of a shameful sin that i wasn’t even afforded the luxury of a labour ward and maternity ward. No I was born behind a sheet to hide me from the surrounding dead bodies, in a morgue. The shame of my birth was that great that I was bought into life in the bowels of death. Can you imagine how I felt as a single mother of 19 holding my fuzzball of a baby daughter in my arms for the first time? The first ever touch and bond with anything of my blood? The thoughts of how someone could have their baby taken away…..

I grew up asking why. Why was I so bad and so sinful that no one wanted me. I grew up to find out I was stolen so in turn their was someone else out there asking why was I taken from them. My brother is a wonderful person. He has a great job, a beautiful fiancee, a baby on the way, a new home and a gentle nature…. he is loved and adored by his mother, they are very close, they talk everyday and the bond betwen them is incredible…. his mother, our mother should be proud of him and she is. Don’t get me wrong. I adore my adoptive parents and worship the gorund they walk on, they have done so much for me.

I was judged before I was born and have been ever since. My life’s choices have never been conventional..they never were, how could they be when conventionality was ripped from my grasp with my first breath of air. It has given me something I am happy with. A perspective of looking at things form all sides…. not just the one that is being fed to me.. I can feed myself and prefer a fork to a spoon.

I guess what I am saying is .. you have listened to the media blitz on these 400 or so children and yes the trial will be the best circus I’ve watched for many years. You have seen that nice lady saying how she had taken custody of all those children to foster them out and go to court. Those children were taken from their parents by the government because they were different. What was wrong with going in and working with these people. Oh we have heard that there is something going on here.. ra ra…

No we had to have the “phonecall” the “excuse” the “media circus” and justification. This sends a message to the people .. hmm is it a good one or is it fear? I hope you have looked at the photos I have put here and I hope you have looked at the other side of this coin and the implications of the loss of freedom. No I do not condone abuse. There is abuse everywhere. If one child is abused in a daycare centre are all the children taken from their mothers?

This is abuse.

This sure looks like love to me.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/YFZ_Ranch

 

Sarah

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Sarah stopped and straightened, wiping the sweat from her brow as she looked around at the mountains surrounding her. It was a steamy spring day in the tropics of Australia. On the horizon threatening foreboding stom clouds gathered and slowly drifted inland.

She turned to review her morning accomplishment in the garden and walked back slowly towards the farmhouse to make lunch for her herself and her small son Bailey, who was playing quietly under the mango tree which was bursting with pre season fruit nearby.

As she stepped into the house, she stopped a moment and frowned, peering outside again into the sunshine. It was so still, unusually so for this time of day, calm and very silent. No birds were chirping away in the trees that were gently swaying on the hills nor were the rabbits skipping over the meadows and playing hide and seek with each other. “Eerie”.

She shrugged as she stepped inside and went to switch the television on as she made the sandwiches.

She froze as the picture came on and the voice boomed into the room. The midday newscaster was highly agitated as he spluttered out his lines. Sera listened and watched intently, trying to grasp exactly what she was hearing.

“I repeat, New Zealand has been totally destroyed by a massive volcanic eruption and numerous deathly shockwaves that have caused the island country to sub duct between two tectonic plates. It is believed that hundreds of thousands of lives have been lost in the catastrphic disaster”

“No, thought Sarah and shook her head, this cannot be happening and leaned forward to hear more.

The newscaster continued, Sarah’s face and body was beginning to register the horror and enormity of what she was hearing. A chain reaction had occurred along the Pacific plate, starting with deep quakes registering in the New Guinea region and after a period of calm it seemed all hell had broken loose. Volcanoes spewing molten lava had suddenly sprung up along the pacific and nazca plate edges where it intersected with smaller plates, instantly creating new islands where none had previously existed. The stresses caused from the plates shift had caused quakes all over the planet at it’s weakest spots, culminating in a massive horizontal slide of two plates intersecting south of new Zealand.

Shakily while still listening to the newscaster Sarah ran and called Bailey inside, stopping a moment to reflect and observe the dark formations on the horizon, they took on new meaning now, she thought as an ice cold chill ran up her spine.

She lived inland about 200 kilometres from the sea, on a mountain meadow, which seemed at the moment to be a safe spot as the newscaster began to list the areas affected by the massive tsunami’s that the series of seismic events had created. Her face fell as the television switched to footage of a massive wall of churned up muddy, dirty brown water barreling towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge, swallowing the Opera House, with just the peaks of the sails visible as the water consumed everything in it’s path.

What was happening here, she hugged Bailey to her chest, He seemed to sense something was wrong and he looked quizzically into her eyes, His own deep blue eyes staring innocently and questioningly at her. “Mummy” he said and touched her face with his tiny warm hand. “What is making you sad”.

Sarah choked and couldn’t answer him, she kissed him, then held him tighter as the voice and images droned on and on through her senses. The newscaster was fairly yelling now, his face was beet red as he told of the currently happening destruction of California. Ten minutes beforehand Mt St Helens had exploded, blowing a nearly a kilometre off the top of her and spewing lava miles into the sky, the shocks had triggered the San Andreas fault to give way in a reaction of quakes through to southern California, each measuring over 9 on the Richter scale.

The newscaster stopped as a hand came into camera view and passed him yet another sheet of paper. He frowned and sighed as he turned to face the camera. It was almost with a dull monotone that he read from the latest item to hit the desk.

“Due to the massive series of seismic events along the pacific rim of fire, the earth has created such a wobble that it is now believed the moon has been thrown erratically out of it’s normal orbit around our planet. It seems that these events will continue and it is as yet unknown when the events will subside. Emergency marshal law has been enacted all over the country. Please stay tuned for instruction bulletin to follow.

Suddenly the earth beneath Sarah’s feet became unstable. She squealed loudly as she felt a rush of power come towards her. She felt like she was on the edge of a high cliff, with a steam train rushing at her full steam, a roar rang in her ears as she ran to escape the confines of the house, Bailey still held tightly against her chest. Sarah fell out of the front verandah and laid there as the Earth rendered, shook and screamed beneath her. The air around her rushed and roared. Bailey started screaming, his voice blending in with the screams of the earth. The wrenching and tearing continued as the sky darkened and a thick orange brown cloud filled the air. Inside the house the TV became silent, but the shaking continued, getting stronger and stronger.

Sarah pulled Bailey closer and crawled away from the house as behind her the foundations of the 150 year old farmhouse tore away and the building collapsed with a screech of torn metal. The ground tore apart in front of her and she stopped crawling and she watched in seemingly slow motion as the garden she had tendered to so lovingly that morning slid away down into a pit that had appeared, swallowing it all in one long movement. Sarah screamed now as on the distant mountain peaks, bright red rivers of molten lava appeared, bursting into the heavens like New Year’s fireworks against the darkened skies.

Bailey stared transfixed as steam vents sizzled up in geysers and all around cracks appeared on the ground like a maze of spider webs over the area. Trees were uprooted and crashed back down with an almighty wrenching sound

The roar was louder now, the shaking seemed to be building to a crescendo, a symphony of horror and Sarah found she could not move or make a sound and then it happened. The crescendo peaked, there was a flash, a crack of sound, blinding colour and in that instant of agonizing pain Sarah called Bailey’s name. Then there was nothing as an explosion ripped through the solar system and the Earth was no more.

 

======================================
Well I wrote this for a contest but do not wish to kill the storyline by cutting it in half to fit the 600 word criteria …so i thought I would post the story again for you all to read and hopefully enjoy. This is only the first draft. It still needs refinement. I like to write and then leave my piece for a bit and come back all fresh to do the second draft as I always look at it differently then. Sera

I Did It My Way

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Yesterday morning I woke up and it was pouring rain outside. This distressed me greatly.

I now have three and a half turkeys in amongst my menagerie. Terrance and his two lovely wives, Thelma and Louise and little baby turkey Theresa.

In my “pen” I have two shelters from the rain for the animals but the problem was my turkeys wouldn’t fit under it. I need to have them protected from the elements.

Now Glen is better, much better (blog coming) but he is still not in shape to be hauling roof sheeting around and banging nails in so I decided to create a special project and to build the Turkey shelter myself with some help from my junior apprentices.

Only one problem there, I have never really “built” anything in my life and the only time I have really banged nails in is to put picture hooks up on my walls to hang paintings on. Hmm big project indeed.

I wandered up to the “bits” shed to see what materials were lying around that I could use on my mission and found some nice planks and support poles along with enough roof sheeting for the roof and side.

So with everyone looking on rather curiously (especially the goats) I started gathering my bits and pieces and dragging them down to stack outside the workshop.

I then spent half an hour arranging the bits where I wanted them and finally I was ready to begin. Glen passed me the hammer and nails out with a funny look on his face as he peered at my assembled pieces. He decided to watch as I started to join my bits together. So with an audience of one Earlydog, Five Children, One husband and four goats, I set about my task.

  • Caileen Greer

I asked Glen to hold a couple of bits while i nailed it together and he still had this rather weird look on his face. I shrugged and kept working. Finally I had two bits of frame completed.

Glen still had the weird look on his face as he walked back inside to finish what he had been doing and I then enlisted the children to help me carry my newly assembled frame down to the chicken coop. We all marched down the yard with our “Bits” to the surprise of my curious critters who didn’t know what the heck was going on.

The kids held my two bits up which they sooned realized were the sides of my new frame, as I hammered in the cross supports. Halfway through doing this my son turned to me and said.. ahhhh now i see what your doing mum, it looks great and you had to build it in here because we wouldn’t have got it through the door otherwise. Yes Sometimes my son has my logic… sometimes…..

To my credit I only hammered one of my fingers once during the whole exercise and it wasn’t long before I stood back and surveyed my work. At this point the children bought me down the roof sheeting from the “bits” shed which i sooned banged up in place on the top and back of the shelter as a wind break.

Then we moved the shelter over to utilize the temporary wind breaks I had already put in the pen for the animals.

We all stood back and admired the new shelter. Terrance was first to investigate his new shelter. He stood under it looking quite pleased. I had made the cross beams so that the chickens would be able to roost on them at night with plenty of room for the turkey family to sleep out of the elements.

Of course as I was building the pen it stopped raining and the skies cleared. Probably won’t get anymore rain for a month but when we do.. my turkeys will be ready for it.

I called out to Glen to come down and see the finished product. I watched as he walked down the yard and looked at my new shelter. Suddenly a big smile broke out on his face. “That looks great” he said.

I nearly burst with happiness. I was so proud of myself. I had pictured something in my head and then built it out of scraps. The best thing was..it worked. It was sturdy and strong and unlikely to fall apart so easily.

Glen then went on and said “when I was up holding it for you, i had no clue as to what the heck you were doing but now I see and you did great. They won’t get wet anymore”.

I hugged him and said oh well..it’s a big crooked.

He laughed at me and said, “its a chook pen, its not supposed to look perfect, just be practical and that one is practical. You did a fantastic job”.

I stuck my puny chest out and beamed. I was so happy with myself and had a real sense of accomplishment and achievement. I did it myself. From my plans in my head to building it myself.. and the best thing..it worked and will work for what it was designed for, for a long time.

I am still all proud like.. everytime I wander down to the pen and see a bantam chicken on my new shelter roof, or a line up of hans perched on the cross beams… and the best reward i got was when i walked down to the pen after dark to check on the animals to find Thelma sitting under the new shelter with baby Theresa peeping out from underneath her wing where she was sleeping.

I did it myself.. my plans, my ideas and my own hands that bought it to fruition…. such a tiny thing.. to build a raggy old turkey shelter.. but a special event in my life indeed…..

I am going to tackle the pig pen next and build them a pen, as my pigs…. well they are pigs… and because they are such pigs they steal all the chicken’s rations so they need a pen of their own.

Eventually i want to build separate pens for all my different animals…. Rome wasn’t built in a day indeed.. but I’ll get there……It’s not much..it prolly looks really simple and ugly

but I built it and it didn’t cost a cent 🙂

So when have you stepped out of your comfort zone and done and acheived something totally different and new?

Did you feel pride in your success?

I Made Him Join the Priesthood – Mr Gaunt

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In my second year of high school I had a maths teacher, who was the endless source of amusement for me. I was a terror back then with a strong sense of social justice which made for some rebellious acts against the “system” even then.

 To describe Mr. Gaunt to you is a tad difficult. My only description of him gets rather confused because every time I think of Mr. Gaunt, Mr. Bean pops into my head and I crack up laughing. To this day I can not differentiate between the two. I am telling you now, Rowan Atkinson modeled Mr. Bean from My Mr. Gaunt.

I had always been put in the top class but I hated it. My friends were in the lower graded classes and the other kids in my class were stuck up snobs. So I made it my mission to be put in the lower classes with my friends. Hence not long after the start of my mission I was moved down into Mr. Gaunts lower math class with all the cool people and all my friends.

 There was only one problem with that.

Mr. Gaunt was stuck teaching the lower classes because he was well, Mr. Beanlike dumb.

He wore long socks, long shorts with a short sleeved shirt and tie and I really think his face was more Mr. Beanlike than Mr. Bean. He was a confirmed bachelor who lived in a tiny flat and the thought of him with a woman was the source of many laughter outburst by my friends and myself in class. Mind you he didn’t rate as high on the idiot scale as  Mr. Freame, the Latin master but Mr. Freame and my detention stories are still to come.

Mr. Gaunt had no control over the class. He would turn to us and ask us if we thought we should have a math’s test the next week. Well hey, back then everything had been sorted into lots of life already. He was asking every potential deviant over the years to come in our home if we WANTED a math test? Somehow we managed to persuade him every week that we were not quite ready.

Mr. Gaunt had many peculiarities other than having his shorts hitched up to his ribcage and a way of walking that at best could be described as Emu Like. He had a weird habit of waiting until we were all seated quietly in the class before making his entrance and he would EMU into the room and up to his desk, pulling his chair out and turning it to face the class. Then he would stand behind it and swing a leg over it, placing his foot on the seating part and begin rocking it back and forward leaning on his knee as he talked. He would proceed to waffle on for forty minutes about nothing. Or preach sermons on the greatness of math. Coming from a class where we actually did math, this was all new to me but got boring real quick. It seemed to drone on worse than the minister on Sundays, day after day, week after week.

One day it got too much for the imp in me. I waited until everyone was in class and watched Mr. Gaunt EMU his way up the corridor and then I made my entrance. I EMUED, myself along the corridor past the tiny glass windows and into the classroom and the rest of the class burst out laughing at me as soon as they saw me. They were used to my imitations and I had my Mr. Gaunt act down pat by this stage. Before I even got to my desk he called to me so I got to my seat and pulled it out as I threw my bag down and swung my leg over the back of it in an exact imitation of his own daily morning ritualistic actions.

“Yes Mr. Gaunt, present and accounted for Sir.” I said with a cheeky grin on my face as the rest of the class sat in silent anticipation of what was to come.

“You are late young lady” He said pointing his finger at me and puffing his chest out.

I pointed my finger right back. “So I am sir” I took at deep breath and stood there grinning with my own puny chest puffed out too.

He started rocking his chair back and forth as he did when he got nervous.

“If everyone was late we wouldn’t have a class” He said, his hand still pointing at me.

My hand still pointed at him and my own chair started rocking in time with his. “It’s not like I missed anything important sir”.

 At that point he dropped his arm across his knee and kept rocking, just staring at me. I had shocked him. He was speechless. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

I stood there silent too, my own hand now dropped into position to match his and I watched him as I rocked in time to him.

“That is beside the point.” he exploded. “You are supposed to be here present in the class to get an education”

 One of the other kids spoke up at that point. He was one of the sporty kids that I didn’t have much to do with.

 “Well Mr. Gaunt, it is the point really. You never teach us anything. You just stand there preaching all lesson”.

A voice from the back of the class piped up with “and swings on his chair all day doing it”. That set everyone off. The whole class started laughing out loud, letting go of all the tension build up from the confrontation.

Mr. Gaunt started shaking as his face turned bright purple. I was still rocking in time with his motions and he turned to me, pointed and said

“YOU!!! outside in the corridor now, everyone else silence” He stepped off his char and went and stood uncomfortably behind his desk.

 I pointed back again and stepped off my chair in time with him. “Yes sir, at your command”. The hum started around me as I stepped into the aisle and EMUED my way to the front of the class. It got louder as most of the class took it up and I stepped out into the corridor where the door was ajar and I could see in.

The moment I stepped out the hum stopped. It was our thing, our little call of unity when one of us got into trouble to let them know it was ok and everyone was behind them. Full credit to Donna Askew for inventing the hum in detention with Mr Freame.

I stood against the wall for a minute cursing myself for not grabbing my bag with my cigarettes in it. As I debated walking back in and grabbing my bag I pulled out a lump from my pocket. It was my little round grey plastecine ball (like play dough) . I always had it in my pocket to keep my self busy while Mr. Gaunt droned on day after day. I stated modeling shapes and then sticking them on the door where the rest of the kids could see them but Mr. Gaunt couldn’t. Each new creation bought a fit of stifled giggles as they tried to keep straight faces and pretend they were absorbed in his speech.

By now he was lecturing again on how if we all learned our math we could become rocket scientists and accountants. I, being me, of course began to model the obvious shape. A penis and balls. I carefully arranged them into a shape that looked a bit like a face and then revealed to the class what I had created on the door.

They erupted into a fit of laughter again. All of them were in hysterics, not so much by the “penis and balls” concept, but at the positioning because they could see what was going to happen next…. And it did……. Classically…..

By this time I was innocently standing on the other side of the corridor minding my own business. When the class erupted into giggles, Mr. Gaunt EMUED his way over to the door and threw it open yelling as he did so, “What is going on out here”.

The class lost it at this point and absolutely squealed with laughter because what Mr. Gaunt didn’t realize was, that as he opened the door my new molded shape was dangling right in front of his mouth.

Suddenly he looked down and saw it in horror. He froze and then screamed himself and went running off down the corridor which made everyone crack up even more. Just then the bell rang for end of class. Everyone was still laughing as they made their way out. We didn’t see Mr. Gaunt around the school for a week or so after that and things were never the same but that was a good thing.

We got a new maths teacher who actually taught Math. A few weeks later, Mr. Gaunt left teaching and joined the priesthood. No I am not joking he seriously did join the priethood and that made perfect sense to me because he didn’t cut it as a teacher…. And as for me.. I am always in trouble… just the depth varies

The Key to Bill (BILLS)

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I am going through my true “Mid Life Crisis” at present.

It is the time of my life when I am filing away the past and washing it all away so I can step forward into the future into a “new” life without any baggage. (edit note 11 November 2024 I am still going through that midlife crisis)

So it is a very reflective time as my regular readers may have guessed by the tone of some of my recent “Pieces.” So I do apologize if the blogs are a little weird.

The Contessa bought up a point yesterday in my Melancholic 1984 Blog about people standing on their soapboxes complaining about the drugs and youth, not actually looking around and seeing the alcoholism around them.

Years ago, I was speaking to a big drug dealer (literally he weighed 400 pounds) <<Obviously didn’t partake of his products.

We were talking about people and addictions. In the small fishing village I lived in at the time, I was surrounded by alcohol and drugs. Our little town was a distribution point for the entire corner of the state. And the guy I was talking to was THE distributor.

He was a “mate” of my ex, who he met through one of the abalone fisherman and this particular day he “needed” me to help him on a pick up as I was the only one in the group that had a license. So we drove along with me trying to keep the car, which was leaning rather dangerously heavy down on the left hand side, controlled and driving straight on the road.

Every now and then in life someone says something to you that makes you sit up and listen. And you carry that conversation through in life. You learn something from it. Scarily as it seems, Bill taught me a lot about people.
He turned to me and said “Margaret, everyone has a crutch in life. You find out what it is and that person is yours, they will do anything for that crutch.”

So simple but yet so profound. That one little philosophy is what I call to this day

“The Key To Bill.”

That sentence turned around in my head and around again. I began to open my eyes and really look at what was going on around me. Bill was the “Candyman” and I watched as his pockets seemed always to be filled with everyone’s favorite type of candy. I watched as his car boot was laden with boxes of black market abalone, the freshest buckets of silver bream, baskets of still crawling lake prawns and boxes and boxes of fresh garden vegetables and fruit. It was amazing that without word or command, he had an army of troops, running around doing his bidding.

I began to watch other people. I watched the group matriarch sit upstairs of an evening with her earplug in her ear, eavesdropping on the conversation at the table in the den below, sipping away at bottle after bottle of white wine. Every now and then she would get up and go to a cupboard and take a pill from a box. (She is a whole story in herself).

I would watch the fishermen jump off the boat after a few days at sea, get paid cash off the skipper then literally run to the Bay Hotel. Once they got there, that money would sit on the bar until it was all mostly gone. The landlords and wives would be waiting at the bar when the boats got in, ready to grab their share before that was gone too.

I watched as Trevor, the crewman on Ray’s trawler, sat at the bar’s poker machines for hour upon hour, pushing buttons, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer until his hand was to shaky to find the button and his voice was that of a toddler.

I would watch the other crewman spending it all on horses, or the dog races and football.

And I would watch Bill at the end of the bar, watching them and watching me watching them, with a glass of lemonade in one hand and a meat pie in the other. This was his busiest time but he did nothing but watch. No one bothered him or came near him, yet every minute his pockets were filling with hundreds of hundreds of dollars. He had “the brothers”, who were two of his lapdog junkies, running around the bar doing his dirty work in exchange for a piece of candy at the end of the night.

He was right. I have watched the world for the 15 years since he said that to me and he was right.

Whether it be an addiction crutch or base need.. ….

Everyone has something that they rely on to get through. crWhether it is speaking to their best friend on the phone every day, a dozen cups of coffee, a game on the Wii, a beer at the pub, a gamble, a workout at the gym, sex, love, Coke a cola, sugar, Tv, drugs and the list goes on.

If you take that away, the person will wallow to get it back.

Controlled through addictions and base needs.

And it is used by society. Our addictions cost more. The government uses our addiction to gain more tax money through gambling taxes and alcohol and cigarette taxes. Instead of the Government fixing the problem, they actually aid to “water it” or make it grow. These addictions are used to control people.

A note to the Government here.

If Cigarettes are as toxic as you make the companies put on their labels then you have a duty of care to your people to ban the sale of this toxic substance to be consumed by the people. After all you banned pot. As cigarettes in “your own words” are HIGHLY ADDICTIVE, you have the responsibility as our chosen leaders to stop producing and making such massive amounts od dollars off this practice of addiction, misery, poison and death.

These addictions are fodder for people with bad intent. The teens of today are constantly being targeted through their “crutches” by massive marketing campaigns. The candyman is constantly dangling a bag of goodies in front of society all over.

Addictions to technology, keeping up with the Jones’s, the latest and greatest in Video Games and weekend play toys, are played on and pushed towards people on a massive degree. It is one big marketing machines targeting your weaknesses.

If something proves to be a “must have” addiction, the price goes up. Matters not because people “want it” and they will buy it. They may complain a little but still put their hands in their pockets.

Basic needs can be the target…

The price of fuel rises, you need it, you have to have it, so you pay for it but nothing extra is coming into your pocket to cover it. The price of tobacco or wine rises, you pay it. Electricity even, yes can you do without it? The price rises by 17 percent in six months but you don’t blink, you pay it.

Imagine if you were told one morning no more phones, no more computer, or no more electricity, no more coffee.. and you were cut off from that one thing.. How would you feel?
The Plug Pulled?

People feed off other peoples needs and weaknesses. The companies and drug dealers get richer and richer and the people get more and more reliant on them to dish out the candy.

 

The Pyramid

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YOU opened up the doorway
AND risked a look inside.
YOU couldn’t share the vision
AND the truth you had to hide.

YOU didn’t build the pyramid
AND structure things just right.
YOU went and split the atom
AND were blinded by sunlight.

YOU forgot to use a mirror
AND reflect it all around.
YOU turned away, closed the eye
AND didn’t speak a sound.

YOU didn’t see me watching
AND knowing all the lie.
YOU kept on chaining spirit
AND didn’t hear it’s cry.

YOU lusted for more power
AND greed went hand in hand.
YOU acquired gold and diamonds
AND built castles in the sand.

YOU built up debt to Mother Earth
AND that will never be repaid.
YOU reap the crop that you sowed
AND now lay in the bed you made.

YOU have asked for nature’s fury
AND that is exactly what you’ll get.
YOU know nature is the balance
AND at dawn the sun will set.

Suicide Moth

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Suicide moth
with the brains of a doth
you are banging away at the screen
It is night time outside
and it’s a full lunar tide
Whether you’ll live remains to be seen

the rain’s pouring down
on your face like a clown
makes you look like an eerie dark green
I peer at your face
right out there in space
and wonder why nature is harsh and so mean

you’re banging away
with wings beating in fray
to the light you seem to be keen
why don’t you give up
There is glass is in the cup
the knowledge of which surely you glean

but seemingly not
you don’t seem to stop
that banging away at the screen
I bid you goodnight
and close blinds out of sight
of that light from which your life is so lean

you would think you would learn
light also can burn
and charcoal can tarnish the sheen

created 2008

It rained today for the first day since we moved to the farm. Tonight I was sitting on my bed looking out the window when a Bogong moth similar to the one  above that I snapped on the front door a minute ago, decided to keep me fascinated by the way he kept trying to get through the glass window into the bedroom to the light.

It was so funny, Kahleah was sitting on the bed with me and I said to her “look at the fairy on the window”.

She walked up with a puzzled expression on her face (up to now she hasn’t actually “seen” the fairies we play with) and she peered at the window close up. She took a step back, looked at me, looked back at the moth and did a double take, peering closer again.

She then turned to me with a look of consternation on her face and said “its a yucky looking one isn’t it mummy”.

I laughed and laughed. I then explained it was a big moth. The wing span from tip to tip was about ten centimetres and the body length was about 6 cm long.

She asked me if I could open the window to get a better look as he was hanging on the insect screen. When I opened the window she again peered at it up close, examining it with fascination.

Glen leaned forward and said, look you can scratch it on it’s tummy and he gave it’s tummy a bit of a rub through the screen. She then reached up and touched it through the screen and gently patted it’s tummy with a look of complete awe on her face.

When I closed the window we sat there and watched the moth for ages, just continually beat itself against the window in it’s futile effort to get to the light.

One again nature and my little girl inspired me to write this poem. Hope you enjoy.

The Bogong Moth
The moths are huge and apparently edible. You notice I say apparently. I don’t see them on my menu in the near or distant future. I live in south East Queensland which is their breeding ground.

Postscript.
As I am posting this Glen spoke up from behind me at the dining table where he was watching me post the blog. We were having a coffee before bed and he said “Here you are the cats got one now”

Sure enough I turned around and the cat had presented one to Glen at his feet. I grabbed the camera as Glen grabbed the cat and it flew into the kitchen. The cat got away from Glen and sat there eyeing the moth. Glen took the cat to the sleepout while I rescued the moth and put him outside.

When Glen walked back in he said “All that effort and there’s a bird outside that is probably thanking us for dinner about now.

Well at least he didn’t end up the cat’s dinner.. tonight anyway….

Icarus

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Post Views: 199

Catherine Frances Honey 31.07.1963 – 16.11.1988

The 16th of November 1988 dawned a sunny warm spring day and I woke up around 7am feeling fresh for once. Jumping out of bed, I wandered out to the kitchen to make a cuppa of coffee to liven me up. I stood there listening to the birds singing in Dad’s aviary out the back as I waited for the jug to boil, little realizing that the day would turn out to be the worse day of my life.

It was five days before my 22nd birthday and the house was empty, mum and dad were in Sydney at dad’s heart specialist, as dad had only been released from hospital the week before after having a near fatal series of heart attacks. I sat reading the paper and shortly afterwards there was the sound of a key turning in the front door, my sister Cathy had arrived for her morning cuppa on the way to work.

Cathy lived half an hour south of us in Jamberoo with her husband Trevor and worked about ten kilometres north of us in Fairy Meadow so it was logical for her to leave home earlier of a morning and stop in for a cuppa with mum and dad before work. I was usually fast asleep at this time and missed seeing her. I started work at 10 of a morning and my nights were full of partying so lazy late mornings were the norm for me.

But this morning my body clock decided different for me and my sister sat down and drank her coffee with me and we talked. We really talked, for probably the first time in our lives we talked, as two adults, as sisters. We talked about me starting uni in Wagga in the new year and how excited I was that my life was going where I wanted it to go, that the confusion of my teen years and relationship with Zoran, Krystals father were behind me.

We talked of Cathy’s inability to conceive and how it had hurt me that nobody had told me about it. My parents and sister were very closed in “private matters” and felt that it was something not to de discussed within the family. So I never had a clue there was a problem and just thought that they hadn’t decided to have kids yet. Me being me, was a “stirrer” every time I would see her I would tease her about her extended wait to have children, little realizing the pain and torment I must have visited upon her each and everytime I “stirred it up”. Why hadn’t mum quietly taken me aside and said hey there is problems. I ended up finding out through one of my sister friends.

My sister and I discussed this for the first time. I told her I was prepared anytime to be a surrogate mother for her and she was over the moon. I told her if she had told me prior it would already be happening, I would have done it anytime. She explained that she had an appointment later that morning with her gyno and she would tell him what I had said and see what we had to do if her current treatment didn’t work.

I had two jobs at the time, one at the fraternity club as a cashier and bar wench and during the day I worked at the TAFE food school which was also at Fairy Meadow as a chef’s assistant. Mostly I worked with the pastry chef and at the end of the day I would take home delicious cakes that had been baked, chocolate cakes, tea cakes, butter cakes, birthday cakes, Christmas cakes, cupcakes, cream sponge cakes, buns and slices, biscuits and cookies every single goodie and sweet imaginable.

So before Cathy left that fateful morning I handed her two giant cakes for her workplace’s morning tea. I walked her down to the car, still chatting a way, a pleasant relaxed feeling inside and a hope that our relationship would be little easier from now on. I watched as she placed the cakes on the floor of the car then she climbed into the drivers side and drove off. I stayed standing there long after her car had disappeared around the corner in Gundarun street.

It was 8.35 am 16th November 1988.

A little while later when I had gotten out of the shower there was another knock at the door. It was Lisa one of my friends who had come to take Krystal-Leigh and babysit her while I was at work.  We chatted while I continued to get ready and then she said “Oh by the way, don’t go your usual way to work today. There has been an accident on the F6 and someone died.”

I froze, my blood froze, I knew at that point, I just knew I didn’t know how I knew I just did. I looked at Lisa and said “where”. She explained it was about 200 metres south of the Gipps road overpass, a silver car had gone under a truck.

The blood drained from my face as I pictured myself not 40 minutes earlier waving to the back of a silver sedan as it cruised down my street. I shook my head and sensibility set in. “No, thousands of cars travel along the expressway each day, hundreds of those cars are silver”. The thoughts raced around in my head, a million scenarios.

I explained to Lisa my fears and we both found a hundred reasons for our imagination getting away from us. Lisa left soon after and I fnished getting ready and jumped in my car for the journey to work.

I just had a “bad feeling” I couldn’t explain the pit in my stomach or why I felt the way I did. It felt like the sunny day was overcast by a grey shadow. I drove off and as I turned into Robsons road down towards the expressway onramps, I could see to the north the flash of red and blue lights. The traffic was banked up on the southern side traveling north only, way back as far as I could see past Figtree, the next suburb to the south.

I went straight ahead instead of attempting the onramp and drove along the parallel side road amongst the housing estates. When I got to Gipps Road, the fear and curiosity got the better of me, instead of keeping on going the direction I was going, I detoured again, driving along the road that would take me over the overpass. I got to the bridge and slowed to a crawl, many other drivers were stopped and there was a crowd on the bridge looking towards the accident. I craned my neck to see amongst the people towards the accident which I could see about 150 metres to the south of me. Then I saw it. A silver sedan that looked so familiar.

“I had to keep driving, there was cars behind me and I had to get to work. Once again the sensible fairy sat on my shoulder chattering away. Don’t be silly, there is hundreds of silver cars, many many silver cars, beside you are as blind as a bat, you haven’t got your contacts in so you couldn’t see what it was, It could be a Ford or Toyota and even if it was a Holden, it could have been a commodore”.

I reasoned with myself the rest of the way to work but always at the back of my reasoning was this awful pit of fear and knowing.

I walked into the food school in zombie mode, I don’t remember arriving in the staffroom but when I arrived I found I couldn’t bear it anymore. The bells were chiming loudly and I ran upstairs to the Head Teachers office to ask If I could use his phone. I dialed the number to Cathy’s workplace and shook as it connected, expecting to hear Cathy’s voice and then having the sensible fairy slap my face and tell me to go lie on a couch somewhere and talk about my Histronic personality disorder. But no, one of the other girls answered “oh no Cathy’s not in yet”.

Thud, my heart hit my feet as I replaced the receiver. I looked at my bosses secretary who I knew lived at Figtree to the south of the accident. I asked what time she had left for work and she answered “oh about 8.40”.

I asked her if she had been held up and driven passed the accident and she nodded and said she had been held up about 20 mins but still got to work only a little late. By this time the alarm bells were deafening but the sensible fairy kept running around with cottonwool and silencing the sound.

While this was going on some my fellow staff not working in classes, had gathered and two of them asked me what vehicle she was driving and then left to drive back passed the accident to check it all out. My boss rang the police and hospital only to be told there was no details. I dialed my brother in laws number and was relieved when he answered the phone. I asked him if Cathy was going anywhere else before work that morning. He said no and told me about the appointment later that morning that he was meeting her for.

He asked why I wanted to know and once again the fairies came out arguing but I felt I should say something.
“I don’t want to scare you or alarm you Trevor but there has been an accident on the F6. It’s a silver car and Cathy’s not at work yet”.

Silence and then Trevor said “Hang on a minute, it’s 10 am the news will be on”> He dropped the phone and I could hear the radio faintly in the background reporting the accident as the top headlines.
“The sole famle occupant of a silvr grey Camira has been fatally injured in a head on collsion on the F6 this morning at Gynneville”.
All of a sudden I could hear Trevor keening in the background, “noooooooooooooooooooo”

He came back on the phone after a minute and I told him to calm down and that we didn’t know for sure. I relayed the hundred sensible points I had argued with myself over all morning to him and told him I was ringing the hospital again. He said he would get ready and come up to Wollongong immediately, earlier than he was going to.

After I hung up I turned to see Vivian and Troy arrive back from their drive to the accident with what I can only describe as looks of pity, commiseration, empathy, on their faces. Looks I became familiar with very quickly.

They whispered to my boss and strangely enough his own face began to mirror those same looks. Meanwhile I rang the police and when I finally got through explained I was worried about my sister. “We don’t know anything Ma’am you are going to have to ring the hospital”. Frustrated I slammed the phone down and dialed the hospital. After a wait on hold I was put through to four or five departments before I finally got the response. “I am sorry ma’am you will have to ring the police for information”.

Back in the eighties there was no mobiles or cell phones, I couldn’t dial her cell to find out if she was ok. By this stage I was frantic but the voice of reason kept me under control. I was still reasoning in my head that this was a dream, it was surreal, that I was going to turn around and look like a ripe fool for wasting everyone’s time and concern.

I was afraid I was causing drama and being a drama queen over nothing and I really wanted that to be so. The pit of despair, the knowing, the reaching out in my mind knowing she wasn’t there were all pushed to the back of my mind, to hang like dark shadows, by that same reasoning.

I just knew. I didn’t know how I knew but I had known a week before and I knew now but I refused to accept that I knew. I didn’t want to know this one. This one was too much.
Vivian approached me and offered to drive me to the hospital to see if we could find out more info, it all felt so surreal. We drove in silence, I was locked in an inner battle of wills. “Yes or no, Don’t be silly. What a drama queen. Snap out of it Margaret. You do KNOW, so now accept it. Nah, what an imagination, aren’t you going to feel the fool tomorrow”. The thoughts and fears ran around my mind in scattered sequences.

We arrived at the hospital and made our way to emergency. By this time after umpteen diversions and detours I just wanted to know the truth. We explained our story yet again to the woman behind the counter and she disappeared off to find yet another diversion for us. I leaned back against the wall and the thoughts drifted once again around in my head. It was fairly dark in the waiting area and I turned towards the corridor and the emergency theatre itself, to see four doctors in white coats striding purposefully down the polished white, tiled floor. The first one came up to me and asked me my name. he then said that he didn’t know anything and that the police were on their way to the hospital to take my details. Oh great I felt like such a criminal. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at me by this time and the doctors ushered Vivian and I into a room at the very eastern end of the hospital wing.

We sat on a chair in the tiny room and waited. I got up and looked out of the tiny window towards the sea, I could see the police car snaking its way up the emergency entrance drive and I went back and sat in silence opposite Vivian.

Not long after three officer came into the room, the two male officers beckoned to Vivian and took her outside, leaving me with the female officer. I stood up and said “look I am sick of this shit, I have been sent everywhere and told nothing all morning I just want to know the truth”

She sat there and looked up with her big blue eyes into my own pleading ones, the answer I didn’t want to see was plainly written there. She sighed and hung her head and said “we think it is your sister, I am so sorry, she died instantly”.

I spun around and punched the wall, standing there stunned, the mornings events crashing down on my shoulders like a ton of bricks from above. The reasoning fairy was triumphantly squashed by the voice of doom……….all my nightmares all my fears, all the horror. Any moment now I would wake up and be back at work planning which cakes to take home for the days to be eagerly consumed by my parents and sister.

I took a deep breathe, pushed it all away and turned back to her. “What Happened?”

She explained that Cathy had been driving in the right lane near the medium strip (think driving left hand side of road) and she came to a spot that had a gushing riverlet of water running across from the night befores rain. The pipes hadn’t ben build under the road to contain the rainwater flow and it flowed across the road in this one “dip” point. The car in front of her had slammed his foot on the brakes to get into the left lane to take the Sydney offshoot and she in turn had braked hard, just as she was driving over the flowing water. Her car was front wheel drive and it belonged to her husbands brother, it wasn’t her usual car so she wasn’t as familiar with it as she was her rear end drive holden.

She skidded and went over the medium strip straight into the path of an oncoming truck. The seating area of the car where she was had not sustained any damage, the left front side had gone hard up against the truck and under it’s cab. Cathy’s head had snapped to the side and she broke her neck on impact with the window.

I sat there for a minute trying to absorb what was being said…. I finally spoke. “and what about the idiot who decides to brake on an expressway to change lanes way to late to be ready for the offshoot”?

The policewoman shook her head. He had gone in a cloud of dust, never to be seen again, possibly never realizing the tragic devastation and catastrophe he had left behind. The truck driver was sedated, he had no time to avoid the collision.

The policewoman looked at me and spoke again “We can’t find your parents and your sisters husband is sedated as well now. Thank you for calling him, he called his parents after he spoke to you and they arrived just before the police wagon pulled into his street to tell him the official news. I need to ask you, we can wait for Trevor but the media already has the details and we need the body identified, do you feel up to it.”

I nodded slowly although every fibre of my being was screaming no, no no . I don’t even like horror movies and this was real life shit. But I didn’t want my parents in any morgue identifying her body and Trevor too, the wife he loved and adored so I made my way down to the morgue with Vivian and the three officers.

We stepped inside. It smelt of disinfectant. This was the second time in my life I had been inside such a place, the first time was my birth in a morgue and now this, 5 days shy of my 22nd birthday to identify my dead sister. I was taken to a room with a glass screen covered by a curtain on the other side, Shortly after the police officer came and stood beside me and warned me that my sister had died of head injuries and it would not be pleasant.
I didn’t want to hear her, I just wanted to do what I had to do and be out of there, I wanted it all not to be real, I wanted to get a hug off my mum and her tell me it would be ok.
The curtain slid back and my eyes lifted to slowly take in what I was seeing. It was my sister but it wasn’t. She was lifeless, purple, swollen and bruised. Her eyes were closed and there was dried blood around her mouth. A sheet covered her up to her chest but I could see the massive bruising on her chest. She didn’t look asleep, she looked dead, white gray swollen dead.

I turned away and walked out of the room, saying yes that’s my sister as I left. As I walked out I asked the officers if they had managed to get my parents at the roadblocks up the mountains and they shook their heads.

I turned to Vivian and asked her if she could drive me to Gran B’s. Mum and dad would go straight there for lunch on their arrival back from Sydney and pick my daughter Krystal up to take her home. We pulled into the street and I gave a sigh of relief to see my parent’s car out the front. All emotion was locked down, there were things to be done. I got out and went up to the wire security door. I looked down the hallway to my father sitting there in puzzlement at my arrival in my pink work uniform.

Grandma came and answered the door and took one look at my white face, asking me what was wrong. I floated past her into the dining room where my parents were sitting, obliviously enjoying a salad lunch.

The radio was on in the background, the strains of the 12 oclock NEWS broadcast runin music already blasting into the room.

Dad stood up. “whats wrong”.

“Cathy’s been in an accident I said, without a flicker of emotion in my voice and on my face.”
Mum jumped up. “Is she ok”.

“No she’s dead,” I answered and sat on the sofa staring straight ahead. “she was in an accident on the f6 and she was killed instantly. Oh mum I am so sorry”.

Mum and dad looked at each other in horror. Grandma jumped up and turned the radio up only to hear it broadcast at that exact moment

The body of a woman killed in the head on collision on the F6 Freeway today has been identified as Catherine Frances Honey, 25 of Jamberoo”……………………

Mum Screamed, Dad placed his head in his hands and dropped to the floor rocking, no no no, Grandma sat there with her mouth open in shock.

This has been the hardest Blog I have ever written. I promised all year I would write this event today on the anniversary of my sisters death, the 16th of November. Today the emotion has run free and I have relived those events as if they were only yesterday. The pain is as strong as it was then. The tearing apart. The never getting to say goodbye. But I like to think I did say goodbye that morning. I had told her my hope and dreams and plans of the future, we had talked, we had said sorry, we had reconciled our childhood, we were adults. One with a path that’s was tragically cut short in her prime, and one whose live was about to change forever that day.

now I have to go outside and smell the roses… and remember my butterfly.. my sister.. the golden pure one…

R.I.P. Cathy 16.11.88
The lion sleeps tonight

Tower

Post Views: 256

 

The tower is struck by lightening
from nowhere it seems to come
darkness flash blinding light
there is no place to run

Only from the depths of sadness
the empty feelings of despair
can open up the emotional heart
and bring new light to bear.

So now its time to start from scratch
to build it up for gain
with extra reinforcements
to protect from that same pain

The tower is built time again
until something knocks it down
when you learn the lesson well
then you’ll wear the crown.

The Wheel

Post Views: 427

 

 

The wheel goes up
the wheel goes down
the wheel keeps turning
around and around

Lighting the mirrors
on the curves of life
accelerating the image
on the blade of a knife

Through one loop
and out the next
faster and faster
base over apex.

The light travels forward
gathering to it a past
growing brighter and brighter
how long can it last

Before it explodes
from all into one
and from the big ending
a new universe called nun

Again on its journey
staring fresh and anew
some facts only known
by an elite chosen few

The light that starts off
with a message to send
remains essentially unchanged
from end through to end.

Colours of Your Soul

Post Views: 281

 

If you could see inside of you
at the colours of your soul
You would see the sparkling sunshine
not an empty dark black hole.

For the colours of the rainbow
shine when bounced off golden light
liquid fires in the mirror
is a glorious splendid sight.

The days of deep dark sadness
of stormy clouds and rains of tears
show an empty blank reflection
that stretches back through the years.

When you search for happiness
above all else in life
you get to feel the sadness
the sharp cutting edge of the knife.

Mirrored Scales

Post Views: 296

 

 

The fright and the terror
that creates all life’s tears
is born of religion
which creates all life’s fears.

Satanism or hatred
Christianity alike
all are just mirrors
on the scales of our psyches

Follow thy leader
all the rule books do say
obey and work hard
to earn a weeks pay

Day and day out
year after year
sleeping and working
’til the ending is near

Not having no time
nor energy for fun
living life bleak
the work never done

Creating suppression
of instinct and light
blinding the glory
of nature’s delight

Clouding the images
of the spirit called man
The soul put in chains
cross and nails in his hand

but whether the cross is upright
or spun in reverse
as you see from these lines
its mirrored its curse.

Good and evil are created
from fiction not fact
to explain it this way
is a matter of tact.

 

Skye

Post Views: 368

Once upon a bright lit planet
Shining brightly in the Skye
Beaming down reflected light
from night there way up high

The mirror spins in all its glory
capturing in it the sparkling sun
and turns the image round and round
sending it back down the line to nun

For a light that begins upon it’s journey
Encounters mirrors on its way
though they once said I am the light
it may yet dawn a  cloudy day

As above as so below
or so they said to me
but as long as there is north and south
For every he there must be a she.

 

Axis

Post Views: 364

Alone in the dark, alone with your thoughts
overcome with deep feelings of dread.
all of your hopes and all of your fears
are flowing randomly around in your head.

searching for courage, the spark that’s inside
to stand up and face what the fates bring,
suppressing inside you the need to be free,
as slowly the voice stops to sing

when you finally stand up and step on to the future,
from the tears that are all done and all cried,
facing the fears of all that is unknown,
that takes courage born of blood and of pride.

the torches of knowledge which light up the way
will help guide you to take one step more
the light may grow dim and flicker about
but the spirit comes from deep in the core

The book of today has already been written
the pages are numbered from the days of your life
it’s signed in your blood and then sealed with the laws
ready to cut through your soul like a knife

Look deep in the mirror at you staring back
you see time etched and marked on your face
innocence gone from those eyes which now turn away
a knowing deep faraway look in its place

Another day older theres no going back
no changing the past with a pen
the lesson is learned reaction to action
it is time for the deep wounds to mend

A red dawn breaks out from under the darkness
as nature waits for the new day to begin
Consciousness wakens and stirs from it’s sleep
the world has turned on it’s axis again
Mayet