Romanticize nature

The toughness we need
To enjoy nature.
Wind that blows my top off
Thank you darling.
More than a caress.

Rocks & sticks that roll & jab.
Ricks & stocks that rall & job.
Racks & stacks that rill & jib.
They used to be a part of something large.

Waves roll across the grass as the light reflects the rapidity & fragility of life.
Alert like Fire looking for what to consume next.
Logs scatter the field drying out.
Getting ready for the next big thing.


The next big thing for Angela is to make the world whisper her name and shudder at her immensity.
A beautiful young lady with a heart of steel and an idea greater than all the rest.
Her thoughts compunctuate whatever that means and she sets out to take on the world.
Because it’s that simple dammit and she’ll be damned if it isn’t.
She walks with purpose from her home town made of stone into the big city made of marble and thrusts her tired sore bloody dirty feet in the face of the bigman in charge.
He’s not impressed, even though she walked a million miles in bare feet while he was driving to work.
She leaves mad and vindictive.
She goes to the next man in charge, he tells her to beat it and that he doesn’t want to see her dirty bloodied feet. It hurts his sensibilities.
Angelas feet are tired and their feelings are hurt, even though Angela was sure they should be a badge of tenacity.
But in this city they didn’t care, not really.
She jived peacefully to the next stop and saw a bum with a camera, she asked him to take a picture, he said “of what?” she said of my bloodied tenacious feet, He said mine are more honorable than yours and he held up his feet which were ground down into foot shaped stubs.
Angela gasped and took his camera, took a photo of their feet and their sad faces. Though Angela had a bit of hope left in her eyes.
She made flyers with her photos asking for support.
But the police tore them down, it affected their delicate sensibilities.

The American Dreams of Australian Citizens

Our tainted love for America and its values eclipses what Australia promises; if anything was promised at all.

As Australians, we should be ashamed of the continued inaction on our many haunting human rights issues and by all means, we should be (and some are) rioting in the streets against our governments total inability to recognize the rights of our offshore prisoners.

But Australians have no right to be mad… right? We have nothing like the Americans do in terms of promises and rights. We have nothing like the Statue of Liberty gracing our nation, I mean, besides the occasional colonialist in bronze soaking up the sunlight like the earth soaked the blood of the countless lives he was responsible for taking.

We have no monument declaring our dedication to freedom, opportunity and equality and why should we? Our constitution doesn’t support the values of a forward-thinking society.

Americans should be mad, they have a Bill of Rights that promise personal freedoms. A constitution laid down as the bedrock of American society and your eyes can easily glaze over the hypocrisy of freedom and liberty laced throughout the constitution as the amendments were written on paper in a nation that was built by slaves and signed by slave owners.

Now the Australian constitution on the other hand, though an achievement in itself, was implemented in the same period, and if not by the same people who championed the first infamous White Australia policies like the Immigration Restriction Act and the Pacific Island Labourers Act.

In all, it has five passages that allude to human rights and are as always, subject to loopholes. The constitution allows the right to vote, protection against acquisition of property on unjust terms, the right to a trial by jury, freedom of religion and the outdated ‘prohibition of discrimination on the basis of State of residency.

So, besides these five, we rely on common law, statutory law and the UN (whom we habitually ignore) to afford us human rights.

Australia is missing too much in our constitution and our legal framework for us to champion human rights and if anything, the very little rights that we hold dear in our country are being methodically stripped and ignored by our government.

But in essence, we weren’t promised very much anyway, just the five laws in the constitution and some relics of the British common law system. We did sign the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that we habitually ignore. We do have some wonderful acts that have been passed by parliament over the last fifty years, though, these can easily be undone. I am not just saying they can be overturned, we have literally seen it happen over the last few years.

Australians might very well be institutionalized because for some reason we all seem to believe we would never have our rights taken away from us, or at least not without reason. Tony Abbot proved that we are asleep to the issues of our rights with the introduction of his draconian counter-terrorism laws and Malcolm Turnbull cemented the fact we are in our very own Australian Dream when his government pushed through laws in 2016 that authorizes unlawful detention of people who have already served for terrorism-related crimes.

No, I’m not talking about the Australian Dream of a suburban house on a quarter acre block and a Holden (or god forbid, Ford) rumbling in the driveway. Although, that is definitely a conversation for another time, as many Australians young and old struggle with the reality that they may never own property and will for eternity be stuck in the mud with all the other serfs paying a huge chunk of their income for the privilege of living underneath a roof. This generations nickname has been coined, it’s Generation Rent.

I’m talking about a fugue-like state that Australians have been living under since before the enactment of the constitution.

I only point this complacency out to add with even more gravity that at this pivotal point in our society we are cornered by corrupt banks that charge our dead transaction fees, Super funds that rip hard earned cash out of our workers hands and a government that doesn’t seem to represent our values in almost any capacity, be it the insane corporate tax cuts which borrow from our healthcare, welfare and education, dissolution of workers’ rights that will leave many Australians out of pocket by the end of the weekend, the myriad of Indigenous issues like over incarceration, a despicable failure to close the gap, a failure to produce or even acknowledge the possibility of a treaty, the abysmal lack of environmental policy and finally, the horrid and continuing mistreatment of asylum seekers in our offshore prisons.

Our now PM Scott Morrison (one of the key architects of the offshore detention centres) said in a video recording played to every asylum seeker residing on Manus Island that “You will NEVER be settled in Australia. The Australian government will NEVER change its mind. You will NEVER call Australia home”

And why would the government care about asylum seekers? They’re not even bothered about the rights of First Nation’s, the consumer rights of their citizens and environmental rights that need to be implemented now more than ever. The world is hotter than ever and the 29th Prime Minister of Australia has just been ousted over an energy policy.

The amount of fuss the Murdoch press made over Turnbulls prime-ministerial duties were irresponsible, Alan Jones a Sky News commentator and radio host told ABC’s 7:30 called several MP’s and urged the change of leadership in the coalition. Malcolm even cited media powers as a reason for his eventual political demise. In some conspiratorial eyes, Murdoch was the instigator of the entire debacle with the Liberal spill happening only ten days after his arrival in Australia.

Perhaps in this age of information, the media needs more regulation, not to curtail their responsibilities as a fourth estate; to protect democracy by being the revelator of crucial ongoings in parliament house and the misdeeds committed by our representatives. But to ensure responsible reporting and to make sure the media takes the time to look through thinly veiled prepackaged politics.

The digital age has pushed already questionable journalistic integrity to a tipping point by forcing journalists to churn out dribble consistently. No wonder we don’t question the publics continued trends of disinterest in political ongoings and elections.

Winston Churchill said “Never let a good crisis go to waste” and our media has gone ahead and used the refugee crises to gain a political foothold, to feed into the fears and minds of our country and pit us against each other. We are being divided day by day, it is seen with the right and the left feeding on each other to gain views on YouTube and likes on Facebook.

The Australian government is culpable of tearing our fragile multicultural eco-system apart with their outrageous campaign that leverages the fears of the white and elderly with the appalling ‘Sudanese gangs’ ‘issue’. Racist and preventable, these tactics show a government out of touch. Mungo called it in April saying the coalition would resort to tactics worse than Abbots ‘ditch the witch’ campaign and that the budget will be a mixture of bribery and spin.

The bribery spoken of seems to be the governments unfathomable miscalculation of their constituent’s intelligence by dropping 444 million dollars into a private foundation (that has links to major energy corporations) knowing full well that the corporation who staffed only six workers at the time of the grant wouldn’t be able to spend that money by 2020 which is, as we now know, the deadline for a 714 million dollar commitment to UNESCO to preserve the Great Barrier Reef.

So why does the Australian government consistently ignore our rights? Is it because they don’t respect the culturally diverse landscape they helped build? Is it because they are putting profits over people? Is it because they are (said satirically) being realistic?

Our environmental rights, our humanity and our freedoms are put on the firing line every day by the people we vote for in our very lucky country.

Australians just like Americans, are tearing each other apart, the picture of those two elderly republicans wearing T-shirts saying “I’d rather be a Russian than a Democrat” comes to mind. The observation of parallels and contrasts between the American and Australian political climate is necessary to realize that we, as people, are more than our political party or our viewpoint because above all else we are all human.

We need to recognize the lessons of America and come together and look past our differences to realize our rights, the rights of our environment, the rights of the disenfranchised and the basic rights of all humankind.

I’d rather be an Australian than an asylum seeker.

I’d rather be aware than an Australian.

I’d rather be human.


A Short Poem By Luka..

If realities Simulated,
May Tricks be exposed.
See Pythons enlighten life or lies have eyes closed.
A show…
Cause and effect,
Embedded or chose?
If Free, Will you return?
Burn Grams?
Weigh the Pros.

They’re Conning us…
Read revenue from Pills,
Truly Blew my mind..
Promise dishonest:
“You’ll be cured with this new design.”
Beneficiary been a factor,
Think they suit a tie.
The flew rides through communities & truth’s denied.

New Author,

I’ve been thinking about how to make this website decent.
As you can tell I’ve been slack and I don’t really have a great excuse.
Perhaps because the website wasn’t exploding overnight.
You can expect this website to shift and change over time.
It might be in small increments, or it might be in radical and intense gestures.

For now, I’ve added a new author to the mix, an old friend who I honestly didn’t hang out with enough.

Get to know him over time, his lyrical prowess is far more worthy of your attention than I and I believe we will help each other grow as poets and lyricists.

He is also a musician, more lyrically so than I, so perhaps he might build a platform on this site for sharing unique music that catches the ear.

If you would also like to contribute, please contact me and we can discuss a method for doing so.

Lots of love,


And that sharp sweeping pain you feel across your chest.

Not a chance in life you would let that affect your life.

But now you’re bed ridden and aching and can hardly move.

You would love to inspire by disregarding that pain.

Let it ache away but you’re stuck weakened in disgrace.

Ownership is yours and that’s what it is.

A sharp sweeping pain across your chest.

Another story about Mina

The simple rays of sunshine blew the creeping forgetfulness to the forefront of Mina’s mind. She was hard on herself for it.
She would justify it by saying to the people she loved that she wouldn’t forget the story you told her a week ago, but she would forget your birthday.
It’s normal to be forgetful, probably… and life is normal and the world will continue its cycle even though at many moments Mina felt like it should just stop.

Is life normal? it’s weird and painful at the best of times.

Mina was in a field that was greener than it had been for the past year, they had just received rain. You could see the refreshing beauty in the life of the world, so upbeat and ready to continue as if it never stopped, because, of course, it hadn’t. It had only rained and that was all. It wasn’t a fresh new beginning, just a cycle that would either continue, slow down, speed up or end.

She was waiting in this green, fresh field; she didn’t really have a reason for waiting. Perhaps she felt like she needed to be there. She was waiting though, because she expected something to happen. She hoped for a new friend or a catastrophe of sorts but knew if someone walked past she would not have the courage to say hello. So, she pinned this impromptu meeting with an unlikely party on them engaging the conversation, which perhaps added to the unlikelihood of this exchange of greetings.

She hasn’t seen anyone in this field, so the chance of her meeting someone now is high in her mind. Someone is bound to walk by, sooner or later.

Though statistically, she would have more chance at a bar or in the city. She knew this, but she wanted to meet someone in the field because a bar doesn’t have this openness and freedom that the wind acquiesces every time it brushes past her.

It was early morning and she had all day, so life could finally give her something like she has been waiting for, for so long. She doesn’t know if she deserves a gift from life but it doesn’t stop her from wanting for one. If life can happen like this – what is all around her – from nowhere then let it.

Mina was frustrated at life, at the cycles, at the rain and at the subtle beauty and simpleness of large green fields. She felt like she was cheated. Why does life deserve to be so beautiful and free? Why are we so accepting in its unfairness and judicial-like decisions of who lives and dies? who is successful and who becomes a pauper? Who is weak and who is strong?

She begins to think humans are in a desperate battle with life, or that humans are like jaded lovers. Who have accepted all that life can give them without sacrificing its own integrity, but still felt like they deserved more. Humans want more, they want to decide who is weak and who is strong, who lives and who dies, they want to take all of life’s decisions with a grain of salt. But they can’t take all of what life has to offer, other than life itself.

Mina realises all of this, again, while she is waiting for life to hand her excitement on a silver platter in a boring green field just after the sun has risen and the rains have stopped. Her excitement wasn’t in the anticipation of waiting, though that would have been swell. Her excitement (if you could call it that) was found in the past when life had already given her everything. She had been Queen of her own world, but even then, her loveless eyes wandered each room searching for something that life couldn’t give her. She did get married, but continuous love for someone else wasn’t in her blood. She would never be so boring. In those times, she wanted to love someone who had something interesting, who was always interesting and she knew, really, that deep down in her heart that wasn’t possible

She knew it was futile to wait, but that’s what she had been doing for as long as she could remember. Mina laughed at this thought because her memory couldn’t be that bad if she was remembering the shades of this field through all the seasons and suddenly she was sad that she had been so hard on herself for a ‘not as good as the best’ memory.

She brushes off her morning ritual with an easy walk into town to visit her friend Lachlan who would have some coffee ready. He would drink plunger coffee from the moment he woke all the way into the afternoon and he never minded sharing with Mina. Mina supposed he liked the company, she did, but she liked the coffee more.

Lachlan and Mina were in a mediocre conversation when Lachlan’s dog jumped on Mina’s lap, Mina didn’t mind, this dog was special because it loved her unconditionally. She didn’t need to give it anything, because Lachlan fed and watered it, if she didn’t want to give the dog attention, the dog wouldn’t cry or sook in the corner or in plain sight and make her feel guilty for not giving love that she didn’t have inside her at the time.

Mina was tired as it was nearly midday and she had been up since four in the morning but the coffee kept her alert. She had a doctor’s appointment soon. It was a follow up on a nasty lump she had found on her right breast. She thought the worst. Life is an unfair and impartial judge she surmised, she is forty-eight, perhaps that is long enough on this earth anyway. She touched it and it hurt.

She waited in the doctor’s office for much longer than she intended. Why is it that doctors can change the rules of time more than any other profession? Mina supposed that the more people need a profession, the more susceptible the profession is to become arrogant and untimely. This was a dull view and Mina knew it. She knew it because sometimes doctor’s appointments take much longer than anticipated and if she lacked love, she still had compassion above all things.

The doctor assured her she was going to be alright, it was just a cyst. Mina was mostly indifferent to the news and would only think of her boring and beautiful green field. She was, of course, filled with relief but she couldn’t get it out of her head that she had seen her doctor hide a packet of cigarettes in his drawer when she entered. What sort of doctor smokes? Is it really that hard to give up? She thought that if you were a doctor you would have respect for all life, even your own. She felt like she still had a lot to learn and was suddenly grateful for the diagnosis.

The doctor watched this train of thought and was not to sure what to think about this reaction, usually the patient is overjoyed immediately. The doctor asked Mina if she was alright, Mina replied courteously with a distinct yes than asked the doctor why he smoked.
The doctor was shocked and lied accordingly and said he didn’t.
Mina was curious at this lie and replied sharply that she saw his cigarettes,
The doctor fumbled for an excuse and said they were given to him by a patient,
Mina immediately asked why a patient would give their doctor a packet of cigarettes.
The doctor crumbled under the pressure and said that the addiction had taken hold in the seventies and he couldn’t shake it.
Mina asked how many the doctor had in a day.
The doctor said only one.
Mina was sympathetic and asked the doctor if the quota had been reached for today.
The doctor said it hadn’t
Mina asked if the doctor would give her one for a quick smoke outside.
The doctor asked if he could join her.
Mina said yes.

Mina walked outside, down the ramp and to the back of the doctors’ office, the doctor soon found her and told her that they should go someplace else.
Mina said she wouldn’t and the doctor lit Mina’s cigarette and got in his car and drove away.
Mina smoked the cigarette slowly, she didn’t cough, though at one moment the smoke got into her eyes which made her start to think of her teenage years and all her bold moments involving cigarettes at school. She was unstoppable then.
How foolish,
She would often look back on those moments with regret, even when she justified it by saying she was just a child. She was often embarrassed and chose to shut those memories out of her mind by saying out loud “I am not an arrogant child anymore”
She knew she was though, it was in her nature to make decisions without studying the outliers that often surround the intended outcome.
She would unintentionally hurt others for as long as she lived. But she justified it slightly as she had always been unintentionally hurt as well, perhaps she was only a product of her environment.
Many would take advantage of her and she would not see it as a slight but only as nature.
Nature took advantage of you, but then, she thought about life and how it never took advantage of anyone, it only gave answers that were realistic regarding the sum put forth, and if nature is life embodied than nature does not have to be an unintentional gamble of hurt and gain.
But who says nature is life really? Nature can embody life exactly how one can put on a suit and heels and become an instant professional.

Her original thoughts were always arrogant in her own objective view, because who was she to begin to understand life anyway.
She put out her cigarette with her shoes and left it in the gutter where her memories of arrogant youth belong.
As she walked away someone yelled at her to bin her butt.
She kept walking but heard the person approaching shouting and trying to get her attention.
The person finally reached her and grabbed her shoulder, “hey” the person said holding out her squashed butt “I don’t care if you treat your body like shit, just don’t treat our environment like it” Mina took the used cigarette, turned and kept walking, found an overflowing bin and stuffed her shame underneath a plastic bag full of discarded papers and fast food containers.
“people need to take more care” Mina heard the person say as she walked away from him.
Mina knew she needed to take more care, that’s what people had been saying to her for her entire life, she just didn’t know how and she didn’t have that instinct to want to care and love and make life enjoyable.
She started to cry because she felt like she had failed the basic purpose of life and nothing could make it better.

After her morning ritual in the field, she didn’t usually return till the next day, but she needed to be there. She needed to feel the prospect of life’s gift, perhaps the anticipation was her excitement.
She walked back to the field, sad that her life was so meaningless and that it was her fault for not being able to make it meaningful and that it was life’s fault for not giving her anything meaningful or exciting or wonderful to hold onto and let go whenever she wanted.

It started to rain, Mina didn’t care, she felt sick and lifeless as she made her way to the field and when she got there she sat down wishing the world would let her join its endless cadaver and  she offered herself up to it as she was, to either end her monotonous sadness or let her feel and engage in the experiment of human consciousness.

She knew then that life wouldn’t give her anything, that the world wouldn’t give her anything and that nature wouldn’t give her anything. No matter how much she thought she was owed. She resigned to numbness and left her field to return to her home that was leaking slightly from her chimney into her fireplace.

She couldn’t start a fire even if she wanted to, she got fed up and called a handyman. He gave her the number to a local chimney repair company, she called them. They said they wouldn’t be able to work in the rain and would come over as soon as the rain stopped.

The rain continued for two days and Mina resigned herself to bed, waiting for this visit.

When the rain stopped, Mina knew she would be expecting company and gave Lachlan a call. She asked him to come over and bring his dog. Lachlan was delighted to, as he had missed her the last couple of days.
He asked her if she wanted him to bring a movie or a board game. Mina told him he could do whatever he liked, so he brought over scrabble and an obscure art house film called ‘a girl on a motorcycle’.
They played Scrabble, Lachlan thought he was going to win as he was a writer, but Mina had a way with words and strategy, she won with her placement of high scoring letters on the double word score tiles.
The movie inspired Mina to get a motorcycle, Lachlan was abhorred at the idea and told her she mustn’t.
Mina brushed this aside and began looking for motorcycles for sale on her computer.
The repair people soon came and fixed the chimney.

Lachlan was bored and asked if Mina wanted him to collect some wood for a fire.
Mina thought this was a swell idea and shooed Lachlan and his patient little dog to her garden shed where she still had some wood from last season.
Lachlan brought back enough wood to feed the fire for at least a few hours and they sat in mediocre conversation and delectable warmth for the remainder of the day.
Lachlan made coffee with Mina’s blackened percolator and they spoke about motorcycles and coffee.
Mina was indifferent to the coffee it could be anything as long as it was black and Lachlan loathed the motorcycle idea because he was worried it could kill her.
Lachlan was originally from South Africa and in his teenage years all his friends bought motorcycles and several of them had died quite quickly after purchasing them.
Mina assured him that she would be safe and receive proper training.
Lachlan knew it would probably be alright and he had no control over his friends’ life motorcycle or not, but still was undeterred and told her she mustn’t!

Mina started to become distraught and told Lachlan she needed this.
Lachlan didn’t register the sadness and told her she didn’t and life is better lived.
Mina felt more strongly about her decision and with courage told Lachlan that she never felt like she was living properly anyway.
Lachlan was confused at this and offered Mina more coffee.
Mina told him to leave and that next time he sees her, she will be wearing a helmet and smiling underneath.

Three weeks later Mina’s neighbourhood woke earlier than usual as she started her second-hand Yamaha and rode it down to her boring, beautiful green field to catch life continuing itself once again.

No title

Shivering with anticipation I fear,
I might do something I regret.
Pain on my hand that eeks
down my wrist.
So I’ll chop it off.
Amputate before infection

If I let it,                       If I let it.
God Forbid,
I might die                      I might die.
God Forbid,

But time moves faster than infection and we all need to make a move.
maybe, not all, but I do, I need to make a move soon, but not far and I think I’ve gone and done it anyway.

I’ve shouted a big old get on with it as I leave it up to the old gods of my hometown and find some NEW gods in a far away city.
The furthest I could go without a passport.

I start to thrive, I starved never.
I starved never.
I starved never.

I move with so much gratitude it’s leaking out of my self-inflicted sores.
and melding into the drinking water of my new city…
that doesn’t need a lesson like my old as it seems to get on with it faster
and whether I like it or not,
far beyond my control,
easier to get a grip on and let myself drift on,
and let myself drift on and let myself drift on and let myself drift on
down the river of insolence as I have never starved in my life but wish to wither and hope I don’t die but love the thought of the romanticism of aching

So I commit myself to life and its finer things when I can afford them
Let that misery and those regrets ebb and flow with the tide.
As my soul grows into something pure and real which I strive to own
Wholly one day and make it mine
like a selfish hoarder with nothing better to do than to collect
steal trinkets.