the girlie man of Australian politics
had the term coined just for him
the tough man Arnie Schwarzenegger
from California was thinking of him

Bill Shorten is a *****
when it comes to fiscal matters
that's why his statements
on the budget are all in tatters

soft approaches toward
spending will never do
the nation's finances are in need
of a tightening *****

the treasury office stats
don't mislead of go awry
a salient tale they tell
about a well running dry

there are no Jesus Christ figures
in Canberra to divide the loaves and fishes
a certain amount is in the nation's war chest
which must fulfill the people's many wishes

the Shorten alternative economic policy
has great sieve holes in it
the nation's well being under it
would be rendered unfit

at the end of the day
the taxpayer always pays
so the ledger should be in balance
without any stalling delays

fiscal responsibility
is good for a nation's health
marshmallow centered Shorten
has no interest in stock piling our wealth

The injustice of this bit deep
Into her consciousness
Quite illogical to be so disadvantaged
A rough night....

Another death
That spelt failure in another case
Stripped by the willow
Serene in her calling.....

Secure in her sanatorium
Her slumber were as troubled
As those of Shakespeare’s King Richard the third
The night before the battle of Bosworth Field ...

Night wore on
Noises died down
As she sought some sleep
Quite the sensation....

That came between
A perfect repose
Heaven only knew
Then near darkness
Other disturbance emanating
With no flashing lights
She was playing on the wing
She was sure about that now....

She was bolted into the room’
As the Taurus had been shot down
With her unborn child
Playing on her mind
Diagonally in the dark
Books were everywhere
Notebooks with meaning
Hearts of evil...

He must be very near!
Near in time
Near in distance
Ready comprehension
Was At hand ...

What did he have in mind?
Moving to Milan
The eternal city of life....

If Nero had lived here
The roof terrace
Would be burning ...

What revelations lie ahead?
To our damaged life
Poetic justice
one more time
somehow someway sometime...

Will she live or die?*

Debbie Brooks 2014

Is it my calling to ****, do I adhere to follow those that sing such an operatic call for
death.
I wait in earnest for my provider with fain instructions to request this body to invade
with evil destruction upon another. I request, no, beseech that this is not to be the
case.
Beg implicitly that I shall be freed from this unlawful and ungodly task. Something
deeper warrants that I follow, in deed demands that I pursue this most superfluous of
destiny.My argument is futile falling so fluently onto deaf ears, if only I could
reciprocate
in same kind. If only this persecutor would leave, get out of my head, Exorcise itself
from
within this troubled mind. But nay the barracking continues incessantly.I wake in
unusual
surround, bandaged in bloodstained attire. How or where remains mysterious? Why?
Even more so. I cry into the night. I cry for this cadaver, this shell bleached in such life
giving elixir. I cry for me.
Lock me away I plead. Padded cell is my destiny my only resistant, use any form to
remove this incessant drone. I pray to my God to release me from this bond but only
Devil answers my calling.

I often think of how you must have felt on that eventful day
it must have caused such turmoil in your mind.
You preach of love and loyalty to your father up above
but there was no one who treated you in kind.

Instead you battled prejudice from those you deem to love,
a love that was not plied upon to you,
disloyalty was so pronounce you must of looked to God above
but towards your flock no sediment did stew.

Of those you taught, who turned away announcing they new not
this good and holy prophet in his hour of need.
Allowing all and sundry to pronounce throughout the land,
that to eradicate this man they should indeed.

Your followers fled from you in fear for their own,
should they be of preference to gain?
They watched as humiliation and defacement were applied
and refused upon direction to utter out your name.

It was not until you died upon the crucifix that day
did your followers decide to turn and face the torrents flow
and pronounce to one and all of the mistake that they had made
by announcement of their Lord that they did know.

Unsecured mind-set lashes its core, choosing to ally itself to that of no concern or thought. All sequence we shall herald as noble backlash. Blame shall rest with death of the innocent, for this is where excuse can be rectified Or rather that of fraudulent justification laid before another’s feet.

Insight to rise as we rise to insight, no notice shall be given and no action shall not be undertaken. Vandalisms recruitment takes it course. Internet conscription courses silently through hardy flex. Telecommunications providers enlisted to contrive location as we plan Google’s map attack.

The aim is that of procurement, not for freedom or righteousness, rather that of avarice and self contentment. We shall shop till we drop this eve and at much better than discounted prices. Personal retributions shall also conceal themselves beneath this direst of banner.

Filthy alignments will almost with abandonment unite in evil cohesion. Mass attack at fragmented locations will oppress any and all endeavours to quell this foulest of foul. He who hide his face away is free to loot another day, this seems the lyrical trend that thief and sinner does take this night .

Untold expectance by unlawful propagator is of a world that owes, favours him above others. He feels righteous that he should prevail in this life before his fellow man. It is of no concern to him that others may have more worthy an approach. It matters not what they may suffer.

If for no other reason to doubt he who professes to have nothing, to be cast out by the state and therefore be free to invoke retribution, why should he with nought, cast dereliction in his own manor? Why destroy what you have not got? Why condemn yourself to live in an unliveable state?

Such misdemeanour unto ones self is surely call for psychiatric assessment and asylums involvement? Here now stands a creature pursed to explicate erroneous act for appropriate content and expect audience to quell their disgust and rapturously give applause. I think not.

For not only did thievery portray itself on our streets this and other nights that followed, also violence, arson and ****** were carried along with it, like a leaf in the wind. Families lost what they had so long worked and strived to gain, watching helplessly as combustion condemned their habitat to broken ash.

****** drew its breath on more than a single occasion. Is this the result of political unrest, that is what they would want us to pronounce, to show reason that this is against the masses, such excuse may then be strewn as a just intention.

This is not the reality though in this case it is a the likely truth that rat endeavoured to crawl above ground and spread its pox amongst us, infecting devastation on good peoples lives as it did in centuries past.

Seeing you down by the brook and so
With musings in my mind
Pen in hand
I knew you were one of a kind ...

My heart bloomed
The love I saw left my soul
To crave more so low ...

We placed our love on hold
For a rainy day and a heavy load
The days flew and love that we knew
Seemed to fade as the days tumbled by ...

Roaming this universe
In a lonely crystal glass
That didn't last!
Eyes blind with tears
A face so still ...

It was your face,
It broke my heart
The love we knew
Hurt so real ...

Took pieces of me ...*

Debbie Brooks 2014