SHOW ME THE…

BRAE TOFTS One dollar. Every three years. For the past 25 years. I’ve been paid one dollar, every three years for the past 25 years to move house. I’ve packed my pets and belongings and moved house. To a new house. Different part of the city, same state. Different neighbourhood. It didn’t take me long... Continue Reading →

Dear Mr President (POEM)

MEYERED MARBLE

It is curious, is it not, how others find us via our posts in the round-about-traffic, that interchange between and beyond you and me, and me and you, and you? What makes Ellie’s POEM of consequence to me?

I’ve begun to wonder what “kids”* think about as they look toward tomorrow. Their future. *(Kids defined loosely and to include all those “youngsters” who look twelve years old but now have college degrees and/or careers, and/or work in professional or semi-professional fields of endeavour, and just may be your physician.)

Question: do they even give-a-toss about the consequences of decisions being made today, in and on their behalf,  by governments (all governments, if you will) that affect their future and will have a lasting effect on their own future decisions?

Answer: Obviously yes.

Thank you, Ellie.

It’s not real, it’s a conspiracy, it just doesn’t exist.
A concept created by China to destroy the US.
It’s a complete delusion and irresponsible too,
To spread propaganda and call it “Fake news”.

With higher altitudes it’ll effect you last,
Higher tides, a lack of drinking water, it’ll be slightly warmer.
Meanwhile we’ve lost Fiji it’s been reclaimed by water.

When you accept and acknowledge that the problem is there,
And it’s a lot more real than your fake head of hair.
Then we can finally get together to right our wrongs,
I would hate to imagine if we waited too long.

So with water levels rising and the earth’s surface heating up,
Two more degrees and basically we’re fucked.
If that’s all that stands between us and total destruction,
The last thing we needed was your deduction.
By leaving an agreement that was meant to start the healing,

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Suffer the children

Michael and I have never met. We live land masses and an ocean apart. I know him through his art, see him through his eyes, and can feel him through his brave, brave heart. Michael’s thoughts speak to me, his words speak for me…..

A Certain Line

Refugees (20 cms x 40 cms charcoal and pastel 2016)

It’s always the children, isn’t it? It’s always the kids who get it.

When the strutting despot, Putin, decides to help out his old pal, genocidal tyrant Bashar Al-Assad, before too long hospitals and schools and aid convoys are bombed; the UN Security Council gets angry and the usual suspects play their veto cards like this is some bizarre game where the person who wins is the one who does the least. Before you know it, Iran is implicated. The EU discusses sanctions but somehow nothing happens. The British government says it’s OK to sell fighter planes to countries where human rights mean even less than women’s rights. Refugees pour over borders and citizens panic: far right-wingers make a play for government by stoking up fear and dread in the electorate. Desperate people cram boats made of scrap metal and…

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FISHING FOR WORDS…

PESCE The Reader looks more than dubious that somehow I can connect fishing for words to the watercoloured fish on a platter surrounded with leafy, green things, yellow-ish squiggles and red rounds that may or may not look like small, yet delicious potatoes. I can't so I won't. No surprise there, The Reader smirks. Very... Continue Reading →

Miracle. All of It.

Our place and space in this World is no more nor less important (or threatened and encroached upon) than the societal nature of…Nature itself. Can we protect and provide? Yes. We. Can.

Live & Learn

elephant-city

If you were an elephant living wild in a western city…

  • You’d have one two-fingered hand swinging from your face – a hand as sensitive as tumescent genitals, but which could smash a wall or pick a cherry. With that hand you’d explore your best friends’ mouths, just for the sake of friendship.
  • you’d smell water two miles away and the flowers at your feet
  • Grumbles from trucks and cabs would shudder through the toxic ground, tickle the lamellar corpuscles in your feet and ricochet up your bones…You’d hear with your feet, and your femurs would be microphones
  • As you walked 10 miles for your breakfast you’d chatter with your friends in 10 octaves
  • You’d have the happiest kind of political system, run by wise old women, appointed for their knowledge of the world and their judgment, uninterested in hierarchy for hierarchy’s sake, and seeking the greatest good for the greatest…

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PASS THE PEAS…

PASS THE PEAS Obtuse comment from My Reader: "It is about time...!"  Personally, I had hoped that 2016 was going to be a banner year for the whole lot of us. However, it looks as if the result on several particular outcomes,  just two mentioned...Brexit and Mr. T...has snapped more than garters, and left more... Continue Reading →

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