Wednesday 12 September 2018

A few years back Australia, the rich First World Nation, was in negotiations with East Timor, the poorest and newest tiny country in South East Asia, regarding gas drilling rights in the sea between Timor and Australia. So Australia, using its massive technical capacities, bugged the East Timor Government's meeting rooms and passed on the information to the gas and oil drilling companies... we, and our government, did do that. It has been proven. We screwed some of the poorest people on earth to the wall and cheated them...and even then, the resultant profit didn't flow to Australia at all, but rather to the international oil and gas drilling companies. We did that...for them. that's the kind of country Australia really is. Now, the courts in Australia are seriously prosecuting the poor whistle blowing bastards who came out and said 'hey! this is wrong!' and those guys are going to gaol for a long time. This is Australia. This is what Australia does.


When you look around the world you see a bit how things have changed these past ten years. America, Australia and the UK have always been basically both intolerant and dependent upon immigrants. Now Europe is becoming intolerant of immigrants. Now, if America, the UK, Australia and Europe hadn't bombed the fuck out of them to make them have to run away from their burning homes, maybe things would be different, but we did exactly do that and for no good reason at all, except for our own sense of moral righteousness and money. Now, we have to work things out... because we have to...and we have to share more than we used to do...because we have to...because they are us now.


On Passings, as they are called now.

Looking back
as we do
puts us in
the memory stew
of tears and fears
and funny ears
and everything to do.

Looking ahead, Phil,
you see you're ill
and so buy insurance
for those you filled.

But they've made their own way
and made their own pay
and should be happy
to foot your bill.

And if they're not
just hang around
and be a problem for a pound
like a noisy tomb
as they grieve and weave
and lounge the leaving room.

poem for daughter:light on light, the sailor's light, to look out bright upon the water, to see the stars and see the sight and hold in arms a perfect daughter. where will you go, what will you see, when clouds are on the water? i will love you all through the time that gails upon the border.


Men & Women: I don't really know women. I can't know women. I have loved some women and they have loved me, just as unknowingly and blindly as I have loved them. In that loving blindness we grew good families. At almost 65, Life remains a remarkable and beautiful mystery to me...and yet I know 'me' very well now, but the rest of the Mystery and Majic of this, my simple one life, amongst my comrade collective billions of absolute equal beings, continues within me and then without me. I'm happy to be here. I'm relatively sane. I have a good heart and a fair mind. I have no idea how any of that ever happened. No idea at all. In the great scheme of things... there is no great scheme of things, but it is a good thing, and I think the best thing, along the way, to have a sweet long kiss (with a tongue or two) and to wish each other well. The world is for all and there is plenty of room in it for all of us, otherwise we wouldn't be here at all.


2 indigenous young boys in Perth died last night, drowned themselves in the Swan River, escaping from police who wanted to know why they were climbing fences through people's yards at night and tinkering with their windows and door knobs, as the people who lived there were concerned, so called the police. The boys families are blaming the police. The Racist police. True. Grief is like that. Why did the US invade Iraq when Iraq was the only bastion against Al Queda who caused the trouble on 9/11? Grief is like that. Grief is primal. Grief doesn't exist to make sense to us. The role of grief is to teach us how to survive the future, and we usually don't learn that at all. We react with hate instead and remain more primitive than arcane grief, the great teacher, itself. As Dylan Thomas noted: We are not wholly bad nor good we, any of us, who live Under Milkwood.