In the (gay) Navy!

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Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Formal poetry, Homosexuals in the navy, Navy, poem, poetry, Royal Australian Navy

In the (gay) Navy!

Come and join our rainbow navy!
Sail the foreign seas so wavy!
Just ignore those rumours stinky,
And paint pink your little pinky.
We won’t dress you like a monkey;
We’ll have uniforms so funky.
Our ships will be painted gaily.
Petals sprinkled on decks daily
Will make all the ships smell sweetly.
There’ll be cabins where discretely
You may couple with your lover
(Or hide neath a lifeboat-cover).
We will usher in new tactics;
Issue all with prophylactics.
Whether you are long or stumpy
You’ll get lots of rumpy-pumpy.
And if you’re a sexy tranny
With an artificial fanny
Then for sure you’re bound to find a
Dirty dyke to be your minder.
You’ll eat vegan in the galley.
Gone are all those hairy, smelly
Straight guys, now we’re just recruiting
Gay guys and gals, we’re all rooting
For the same team – you’ll sail on ships
With nice names like Pansy, Cowslips,
Daffodil or Rose or Daisy.
We won’t have those mean or crazy
Names like Terror, Hood, or Vampire.
We will silence all the damn fire
From the cannons – decorate them
All with flowers – guns? – we hate them –
Symbols masculine and phallic.
Each and everyone a relic
Of the bygone age that’s perished;
Now it’s feminine that’s cherished.
Yes! The navy, we’ll transform it!
We, the gay sailors will storm it!
No more rope and anchor tattoos.
No more beer and hearty beef stews.
Kale, tofu and lentil pie
Served up by some gentle guy
Who says if you call him “Tina”
He’ll give you a vege wiener
Coated thick with vegan gravy –
Come on! Join the all-gay navy!

Sailors paint pinkies pink

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A Hero Dies

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Australian poet, Courage in war, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Unsung war heroes, War heroes

A Hero Dies

Oh yes, he was a hero – that is true.
But in that conflict there were thousands more.
The recognized among them are but few –
A careless hand deals out the cards of war.
Those who still live, and those now buried bore
That burden, and returned to start again;
They’d not let bitterness bite at their core.
Our hero rose above those common men,
(Or should I say uncommon) even then
He didn’t show what he had locked inside.
But came defeat – and later, that was when
What gnawed at him, no longer could he hide.
A hero? – sure, such men are spawned in wars;
They’ve measures both of courage and of flaws.

Bad Bunnies

Tags

Australian poet, Cardinal Blase Cupich, Catholic Church sexual abuse allegations, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Pope Francis, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet

Bad Bunnies

I spied a warren in an old churchyard –
A diocese of rabbits – all diseased.
By an affliction each of them was marred,
And every one I saw, it coughed and wheezed.
One hopped over and peered at me – I seized
It by the neck and looked into its eyes;
Blood-shot they were, the rabbit sniffed and sneezed,
Then said: “I am their leader – and my lies
They thought were truth, for they think I am wise.
This churchyard once was consecrated ground.
Now evil’s buried here in hope it dies;
But one day, when God wills, it will be found.
You ask me what has poisoned every soul?
You’ll find the answer down the rabbit hole.”

{I wrote this after reading No Big Deal at
Flammeus Gladius}

Nietzscheisms 2

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Australian poet, Formal poetry, Friedrich Nietzsche, Nietzsche's criticism of Christianity, poem, poetry, Pontius Pilate, Rhyming couplets, The Antichrist by Nietzsche

Nietzscheisms 2

By syphilis his brain would soon be diced.
With girded loins he wrote “The Antichrist”.

“What think you of us Christians?” they asked Nietzsche.
He said: “One I admired – he was your teacher.”

He said the gospels died upon the cross.
He thought the man who died – the greater loss.

You don’t agree, he thought the clergy crooks?
Then it is clear – you haven’t read his books.

He doubted Paul had had a revelation –
Just that he had a wild imagination.

Now Pilate he admired, he would confess –
To Pilate, what was one Jew more or less?

Quest

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Bird with no feet sleeps on the wind, Days of being wild movie, Formal poetry, Orpheus Descending, poem, poetry, Song lyrics, Tennessee Williams, The bird with no feet

Quest

There’s a bird with no feet – only wings,
And it sleeps on the wind, and it sings
All day long as it travels the skies,
And it lands only once – when it dies.

{I first came across “The bird with no feet” theme
in an obscure Chinese movie “Days of Being Wild”.
I believe it comes from the Tennessee Williams play “Orpheus Descending”,
but I think its origin may be much older.
I wrote this little poem after watching the Chinese movie.}

Botany Bay 1770

Tags

australia, Australian Aboriginals, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Botany Bay, Captain James Cook, Discovery of Australia, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, The British Empire

Botany Bay 1770

Well it was bound to happen – with your undefended borders.
If it hadn’t been the British, following their monarch’s orders,
Then it would have been the Frenchies or the Dutch or Portuguese,
Or the Maoris, or the maniacal murderous Japanese.
When you haven’t any fences and no army – no defences,
Then it’s clear to any sane man that there will be consequences.
When you’re hunters and you’re gatherers in small nomadic bands,
Standing on the bay’s grey beaches with but spears in your hands,
Don’t expect that stronger peoples with their empires all expanding
Will just say: “Hello”, and sail away without making a landing,
Planting flags, and claiming sovereignty to land on which you’re standing.
It’s the way it was back then, and there’s no sense in you demanding
That we change the past – you lost, but look upon the brighter side man –
Had it been the Asian hordes instead, they would have tanned your hide man.

Lost at Sea – 1971

Tags

Australian bush poetry, Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, Drownings at sea, Formal poetry, poem, poetry, Prawn trawlers, Scarborough Queensland Trawlers

The sea is still, these cold and starry nights.
No breakers pound upon the jagged reef.
The trawlers scan the sea with searching lights.
No nets – but grappling hooks, they drag beneath.

For somewhere in these depths there lies a boat,
And two men in this watery graveyard sleep;
And hence all day and night – this fleet afloat,
To find, and raise their coffin from the deep.

Two brothers, fishermen, the boys who drowned.
Big happy fellows – we knew them quite well.
The throb of diesels – I still hear that sound,
And too, when it hooked up – the trawler’s bell.

{In memory of “The Kids”}

Frank Slide

Tags

Alberta, Australian poet, Canada, Canadian Rockies, Crowsnest Pass, Formal poetry, Frank Slide, Frank Slide poem, poem, poetry, Spenserian sonnet, Turtle Mountain

Don’t make your camp beneath its towering peaks.
So said the ancient ones – the mountain moans.
Sometimes it moves, sometimes it loudly speaks
Of grinding pain within its brittle bones.
And when it shivers it shakes loose the stones,
And down its furrowed flanks they swiftly roll.
Yet brave men turned a deaf ear to its groans,
And rushed to mine its gleaming seams of coal.
But Nature’s force no mortal men control,
And deep within – the mountain’s rocky heart
It broke, and terrible would be the toll;
For with a roar the east face fell apart.
And many who on that grey morning died,
Still sleep beneath the rubble of Frank Slide.

Frank Slide

Trace

Tags

Australian poet, Australian traditional poetry, death, Formal poetry, Ghosts, poem, poetry, Shades

The creaking of his empty chair.
In dead of night, a muffled moan.
A faint footfall upon the stair.

And though I know he’s cold as stone,
And too, I know there’s no one there,
These sounds I hear when we’re alone.

Strong and Diverse Melbournians

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Araluen Queensland, Australian poet, Balkanization, Divide and Rule, Division, Formal poetry, Melbourne Australia, multiculturalism, National Identity, poem, poetry, Queensland, sonnet, Spenserian sonnet, Strength in Diversity, Tribalism, Uncontrolled immigration, Victoria

I’ve just returned from Melbourne – it’s diverse!
I could have been in Europe – it’s so cool!
In fifty different languages they curse;
You’ll never find a more scattered gene pool!
I guess this happens when progressives rule –
Their progress means you can’t tell where you are!
You don’t like it? Hey man, you are a fool!
No longer do you need to travel far –
Just take a stroll – no need to drive your car –
It’s Africa! It’s Asia! – Middle East!
There’s yellow, white, and brown, and black as tar!
Humanity in all its forms – a feast!
Sad…..now I’m back in regional Queensland;
Damn! – Everyone I meet I understand.