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Merry 2d
I’m just a postmodern bush poet
Roaming and roving rusty roads
Writing, wordsmithing, amid yellow grass
Fondling the various ******* of Mother Nature
The hills and mountains, all her nooks and crannies
Looking at peeled potato sheeps
Dreaming about what great stews they would make
Listening to a bit of AC/DC
With no wuckin’ furries
Getting eyed by work dogs
With no sense of self-preservation
Telling me I’m going to die all the same
As those rotting roos lying in the dirt
Sodomised by cars just like mine
Their pink, esoteric entrails getting pecked out
By the crows I call my friends
Eloise Rose Sep 25
Its an estranged place of beauty
Magnanimous cruelty marks its face
the land of such awe screams mutiny
pleading for a safer place

desert oaks tenaciously grasp the ground
lightning struck gums an effigy to protest
the cataclysmic weather reigning down
the incongruities perpetually contest

spurious clouds pass over head
mocking the parched plants, they ****
despite the drought amongst the dead
orange melts a sunset onto every hill

the beguiling desert offers many wonders
surely it will draw many in
but it only takes one that ponders
to see it represents our brokenness within
will19008 Jun 25
A country girl who likes to dream
and in her mind she’s going places
     she’s never been
and where it looks to me that she may
     never get the chance to be

A country girl who likes simple things
she’s trapped inside of a circle called
     a wedding ring
and so she reaches out to me
     if only in her fantasies

A country girl who just wants some security
that she knows she could never
     have with me
but still she reaches out to me
     if only in her fantasies

Because she’s the one that her family counts on
     She’s the one that everyone likes
And she must always remember who she is
     even when she’s dreaming of
     me at night

She could never tell anyone
that in the hours before the sunrise
     she dreamed of
     me at night

A country girl who’s waiting for the day
when she can finally spend some
     time with me
And although it may never be that way
I know she’ll be reaching
     out to me
If only for the moment and
     if only in her fantasies
Written for Kathy who must always remember who she is: The one that everyone likes.  I miss her.
Zoe Grace May 21
We aren't scared of an-
a wild magpie appears
Oh ****!! ****, GO!! RUN!!
You're all worried about drop bears and crocodiles and spiders, but magpies are the real threat
Michael Mar 19
The Ninth Battalion (Australia)

By Sun-filled day and frosty night,
O’er rugged hills and desert sand,
We learned to work as teams, to fight
In jungles of another land.

From every city, State and town,
All the lovely countryside,
Impelled by grim war’s cold, bleak frown,
Gathered we at fair Woodside.

And some of us were volunteers,
But mostly we young conscripts were,
With youthful hopes, ambitions, fears;
Young men’s dreams of love were there.

And lusts, for we weren’t choir boys,
Nor simpering wowser, nor old maid.
We searched for brawling, drinking joys
And chased the girls of Adelaide.

Oh Adelaide, what wondrous pubs,
The Rundle, Gresham (Mind you Roy?),
The Western, Finden, all were hubs
Of social, sinful, youthful joy.

But scarce the city trips sublime.
Beneath the awesome stars our home.
And Sun-bronzed we became with time,
Leigh Creek, Cultana, ours to roam.

At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.

Canungra’s forest, where chilled to bone
We learned to ambush and by sudden flare to ****.
The Flinders Range, those hills of stone.
Shoalwater Bay did prove our skill.

And at the last and having passed our nation’s test,
(for some a final accolade)
And to that question answered yes,
We made farewell to Adelaide.

At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.
Tony Tweedy Mar 18
So many poems to inspire and convey every passion.
Expression of every emotion, thought and consciousness of place.
Of all the poetic words ever written none speaks so loud as a famous but anonymous and often quoted Australian line of verse...

" *uck me.... I stuffed it.... its *ucked".

No line has held the heartache, self disgust, resentment and sense of loss and desperate despair so concisely. Its brevity adding to its beauty. A full story in a line.
For non Aussies they may not see its beauty... but for an Aussie its high emotion in a nutshell.
Definitely not a poem...
Incidentally.... Anonymous denies comprehensively any association with the words quoted.
Tony Tweedy Mar 11
Have you looked upon a western sky at a certain time of day?
When the endless turning of the world compels the sun to go away.
Have you looked across an open plain with soil of rust red brown?
And seen the brightest evening star burn bright as jewel in crown?
Have you seen the stands of trees fade into the black of night?
And watched them all but disappear as day makes final rays of light.
Have you seen upon the far horizon the shapes of ancient lands?
And watched the changing light show of radiant, fiery bands.
Have you seen the shades of fire change the western sky?
And marveled at all its beauty until it wets your very eye.
Have you taken time to note every shade in fiery hue?
And marveled at flame red clouds upon a sky of pastel blue.
Have you stood and watched the glory as it slowly fades away?
Dont despair and make the time, as it happens every day.
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