Unhappiness

I am angry because the world is angry.

This incredible, life-giving place is dying.

The human virus invades it;

tears at it, breaks and destroys it.

Humanity is insane.

I am sad because humanity is sad.

This remarkable, intelligent species is hurting.

The disease of selfishness infects it;

too many, too poor, too ill.

Humanity is inhumane.

I am worried because my nation is worried

This prosperous, free democracy is stalling.

The politics of nationalism drives it;

god, Queen, flag and country.

Humanity is a bane.

I am ashamed because my peoples are ashamed.

This beautiful, rich diversity is fading.

The rise of monoculture derides it;

assimilate, integrate, fit in.

Humanity is the same.

I am fearful because my family is fearful.

This safe, free space is disappearing.

The threat of hate pervades it;

taunts, bullies and bashes it.

Humanity is a crime.

I am unhappy because I am unhappy.

This amazing, promising person is breaking.

The wind of doubt erodes it,

whips, cuts and thrashes it.

Humanity is to blame.

Lugere

From the last wind through autumn lungs;
Across the endless ache of winter bones
Through the dark shadow on a spring mind;
Into the constant drought raping a summer heart

Ever changing seasons bring nought new life;
The passing years unease tormented souls
Tears no longer flowing; dry faucet, an empty well
Time steps solemnly to the beat of a silent drum

Every surface gathers dust, thick shrouds of mourning
Heavy drapes, closed against rotting boarded windows
Cobwebs fill the dark, dank, lifeless spaces,
They speak like tombstones in a soulless graveyard

Haunted by the memories of pride and glory left behind
Old dreams, broken promises, forgotten lives
Collected, hoarded, possessed and now unwanted
An obsessive compulsion of nostalgic sentiment

No breath nor life, no mind nor soul
A broken home, heart broken; forgotten and unforgiven
Take heed, a living corpse; have pity, the walking dead
Abandoned empty vessels, derelict zombie love

In Memoriam, One Year On

In Memory of
Rowan Barrett
1973 - 2008

etched forever in my mind, the joy we shared
on one night's chanceful encounter
the quintessential mate of everyone you met
and they were proud to call you friend

but none was more honoured than this stranger,
to have simply met and shook your hand
and engage in cheerful conversation

among the festive crowd we were connected
dancing and laughing like children
in heart filled celebration
living a precious moment for our friend

without any qualms or social boundary
my life was more enriched
by the reach of your friendship and humanity

one night, but a moment in my life
that i would gladly exchange if it would bring you back
taken too soon, your time too short
no greater man whose passing can cement a memory

know that you are greatly missed
by those whom you deeply loved
and those, like me, you unknowingly touched

Taupin says it better

I regard Bernie Taupin as a great lyricist, and combined with Elton John's musical talent, I believe they make the best songwriting duo of modern times.

I'm no match, but I do like to put things down on paper .. .here's a reflection of one of their greatest hits (copied at the end of the posting).

Sometimes,

when the words won't come out right,

try as one might,

When you know what you want to express,

but the tongue can't stress

And your mind can no longer handle the chore,

pleading and screaming "Enough! No more!"

Sometimes,

in that moment of stark revelation,

under numbing sedation,

When there is no pardon or excuse,

just a simple word to choose

you finally realise the need for humility

in a sublime, teary-eyed, soliloquy

Sometimes,

at least how it is commonly referred,

sorry seems to be the hardest word.

[CM 2004]

Bernie Taupin says it better ...

What have I got to do to make you love me

What have I got to do to make you care

What do I do when lightning strikes me

And I wake to find that you're not there



What do I do to make you want me

What have I got to do to be heard

What do I say when it's all over

And sorry seems to be the hardest word



It's sad, so sad

It's a sad, sad situation

And it's getting more and more absurd

It's sad, so sad

Why can't we talk it over

Oh it seems to me

That sorry seems to be the hardest word



What do I do to make you love me

What have I got to do to be heard

What do I do when lightning strikes me

What have I got to do

What have I got to do

When sorry seems to be the hardest word



[Music by Elton John, lyrics by Bernie Taupin.

© 1976 Big Pig Music Limited]

My Rock

The tuft of brown, grassy hair

caressed by the wind as it catches the sun’s golden hue

seems to radiate like sparks from atop the mountain peak

A stark cliff falls away silently in front

finely polished by the elements, erasing any evidence of time

the rock is still young but daringly announces its presence

Peaceful, inviting caverns

set deep beneath the rim of the precipice

wise eyes keeping watch, reflecting an inner tranquillity

The contoured pink granite face,

moulded like clay in the hands of a gifted sculptor from another aeon,

bereft of unnecessary action, there are no sudden, unforseen tremors

A sturdy, reliable rock

Neither treacherous nor unyielding, he invites and willingly succumbs

appreciated by all who bear witness and by those who welcome his embrace

My rock, steadfast and true

A towering mountain of strength, sheltering me with a calm presence

The flawless reality of perfect love and constant companionship

Happy birthday to my darling Richard!

18 February 2003

Let Peace Prevail

Background


I wrote the following around the same time as Two Of A Kind in the wake of September 11. I ended up submitting it to several newspapers in the hope of getting it published as a letter. Unfortunately it didn't succeed. More background here and here.

Empathise with the unspeakable pain and loss,

    but refrain from words and acts of bigoted anger

Acknowledge the need for swift and certain justice,

    but quell the voice of revenge and retribution

Honour the victims and provide solace to their beloved,

    but protect all from wrongful blame or judgement

And above all, no matter what the future holds,

    gain strength from hope (or faith) and let peace prevail.

Two of a Kind (a war on terror)

I wrote this poem about a week after the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington. It describes the never-ending battle between two forces, neither good nor evil. They are opposites but they are also the same.

Two cards dealt by fate,

Paired devices in a chanceful game.

Why do they gamble with innocent lives?

The diamond, still rough, and the club, absent of shame.

A lover of money and a trader of souls,

Juxtaposed;

enemies competing for similar goals



Two freedoms voiced under the banners of faith

A binary of ideals converged at the tangent

Are these the symbols of a world still forming?

The cross of gold and the black crescent moon,

The phrenetic and the fanatical,

Contiguity;

believers in the same ancient idol.



Two energies forged by the gods

A polarity of latent direction

Will the immovable object meet the irresistible force?

Eastern resurrection faces western insurrection

The phoenix and the eagle in the twilight of power,

Osculation;

barbarians of the same hour.



Two battles fought by sentient beings (in theory!)

Coupled semaphores of distress.

Can any be the victor of such bloody battles?

Both commit to justice, neither will confess.

Blood on the stars and stripes, blood on the half moon,

Analogous;

all humanity facing the same impending doom.



Collin Mullane

In Memory of all those who died

11 September 2001

Friendship

A short speech I gave at a Junior Chamber function in Fremantle in 1998.

Around the corner I have a friend

    In this great city that has no end,

Yet the days go by and the weeks rush on,

    And before I know it, a year is gone

And I never see my old friend's face,

    For life is a swift and terrible race.



Yet, he knows I like him just as well,

    As in the days when I rang his bell,

And he rang mine. We were younger then,

    And now we are busy, tired men

Tired of playing a foolish game

    Tired of trying to make a name



"Tomorrow", I say, "I’ll call on Jim

    Just to show that I'm thinking of him."

But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,

    And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner! … yet miles away,

    Here's a telegram sir - "Jim died today."



And that's what we get,

    and deserve in the end.

Around the corner,

    a vanished friend.



[Src: Around The Corner by Henson Towne]

"I received this poem in December last year just two days after a close friend suddenly died.

His death and this poem opened my eyes to how we take our friendships for granted. How we replace life’s important tasks with life’s urgent chores, and then regret those lost moments of pleasure.

Society conditions us to anticipate a busy life in which we run out of time for the things that are important and that our friends will wait, patiently, last in line behind the rest of our life.

Perhaps a true friend will wait, but would you? Or would you continue in your busy lifestyle, placing them at the back of your line?"

A friend is one who believes in you

    when you have ceased to believe in yourself.



A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart

    and can sing it to you when you have forgotten the words.



A real friend is one who walks in when

    the rest of the world walks out.



[Author(s) unknown]

"I wasn’t close to my friend, not as close as I could have been. I certainly took more than I gave, always thinking I would make it up later ... when I had some time. But I ran out of time.

The funeral service overflowed, I did not realise the extent to which he had shared his friendship, and yet he always had time for me."

Some people come into our lives and quickly go.

    Some people move our souls to dance.

They awaken us to new understanding

    with the passing whisper of their wisdom

Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon.

    They stay in our lives for a while,

leave footprints on our hearts

    and we are never, ever, the same.



[by Flavia Weedn]

"Set aside some friendship building time and place it in your diary just as you would any other important task your busy life requests. Make time to stay in contact and be available 24 hours a day to those who need your ear.

And at the end of the day, when you get that telegram saying Jim is dead, you will look back and be glad that you shared that small moment just yesterday."

This Rose

This Rose is like our friendship,

which has withered by and by

Once it bloomed a loving beauty,

now it lays here brown and dry

This rose is how I thought of you

a rare treasure I could see

Now I look upon this rose

and I find not you nor me

This rose, the one I speak of,

was not love, nor was it lust

But instead it was our friendship

nurtured by respect and trust

This rose you once picked for me

is but now a token gift

For the love I revealed alarmed you

and I now can't heal that rift

This rose has died quite quickly

though I tried to make it last

It seems you can't cheat fate

or keep the future in the past

This rose now has no scent

its perfume, like you, has gone

And though I'd dearly have it back again

I can't regret what life has done

This rose I meant to keep aside

to help me remember you

But this rose is just a sad reminder

of a love that wasn't true

This rose was once so beautiful

but its life has dried away

And my thoughts of you go with it

there is nothing more to say.

15th August 1995

For the beautiful people that have been in my life.