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Bill Higham Aug 2016
and that one man
blinded
distraught
stuck there in the middle
of that no man's land
that abattoir
that circus
walking round in a ring
and falling down
stumbling round in a ring
and falling down
till somebody
finally
put a bullet through his head
Àŧùl Mar 2016
The match on Sunday was matchless,
For Ozzie lost to India with grace,
Indian players snatched from them,
Indians stole the victory so easy,
But it just seemed easy in the end,
Each one of the Ozzie hurlers,
Couldn't even ask for the water.

Virat - great was the beating!

And to be credited is just not Virat,
Anushka Sharma is equally credible,
Had she never broken up with him,
Virat Kohli would still be distracted,
Against ultimate opponents Ozzies,
Our team stood not a single chance,
If not for his sweet vengeful courage.
The match was awesome and Virat Kohli performed wonderfully well!

I have figured it out that as a young man myself, I should never let the girl overpower my emotions because she is a normal human being too. She's pretty imperfect.

I always sought perfection, in this world it's nowhere to be found.

Virat, the Sanskrit word means huge or great in extent.

My HP Poem #1044
©Atul Kaushal
Zane2976 Mar 2016
I needed safe schools because my parents did not have the education to teach me what my feelings about myself were.
I needed safe schools because I did not have the education to know about myself.
I needed safe schools because I was educated that liking people of the same *** was a sin.
I needed safe schools because I was taught that I was wrong to feel the way I felt about myself.
I needed safe schools because my peers do not know how to talk respectfully to a trans person.
I needed safe schools because I had no refuge from the judgement of others.
I needed safe schools because I didn't know that transitioning was a possibility.
I needed safe schools because I felt I had to suffer in silence, believing I was the only person who felt like I did.
I needed safe schools because education is key to a functioning society.
I needed safe schools because it is a chance to better the future.
Bill Higham Mar 2016
And the very last, the endling,
Caged in the sunlight at Beaumaris Zoo,
Tired of the poking and the prodding
Paced out of existence into history,
Into emblem and icon
Legend and label,
On to things protected by copyright,
Footage and fable,
And the internet's electric jungle,
And into that great white emptiness
Of extinction,
That giant ship which we are building,
Stacking and storing,
Fitting and filling,
Recording into the grand voyage
Of oblivion.
The last known Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacinus cynocephalus) died, reportedly due to neglect, in Beaumaris Zoo, Hobart, Australia, in September 1936.
Bill Higham Mar 2016
At this deep pool
Where no light is reflected,
Where small birds come
Clinging to the vine
Amongst fallen logs and silences,
The crush of leaves and the rot of years.

At this dark edge
Where now unassailable trees tower
In a brief clearing,
At this still centre where the wreckage lies
Of river's breach and storm's rage.

Here at the heart.

Where once the workings of long-ago men,
The wild, roaring, toothless ones,
Desperate and dislocated,
Their fierce eyes blazing through dark,
And bodies by day burning through timber,
Cut sunlight in shadow
And nation in nature.
Bill Higham Mar 2016
And these men that made the land,
That wove their dreams with dust and dirt,
That needed death to know the flower,
Men of the corrugated country.

Men of bones,
Propped in the rusted windy ruins,
Who watched the movement of the birds
And bartered life with sky and earth.

Men of the drought's bare-cupboard cradle,
Biblical through plague and famine,
Who struck the water in the stone
And fought with flesh to swell the soil.

Time's weathered toys,
Who sought a garden in the sand,
Where the withered streams of the dry season
Flowed with flooding summer rains.

Men of the dark deserted spaces,
That masked their ruined stars with drink,
That fed the shadows with strange desires
And drowned the broken plough with tears.
Narelle Carter Mar 2016
s u m m e r t i m e . b o y
.
he fell to earth before Bowie became a star, landed on the Smithsonian current and washed ashore with webbed feet.
the south swell rider scans the horizon searching for bombora  breaks akaw, making a gnarly entry over those same rocks.
timing is crucial or the wet will smack you hard against it!
he pushes out through the foam and finds his fins ripping the green room, grinning and yewing hell bent till the salt crusts over and muscles burn.
Julie Grenness Mar 2016
What do Australians do well?
At the football we really yell,
All sports have cast their spell,
We are all quite laconic,
With work, it's really platonic,
We love a long weekend,
We wish holidays never end,
We even have a public holiday,
For our horse racing day,
Yes, that's Melbourne Cup Day.
What do Australians do well?
Well, we welcome all, do tell,
One multicultural southern land,
Progress changed us to helping hands,
We can work hard, and play hard,
Looking for weekends too far,
We Aussies do lots of stuff real well,
Yes, Australia has cast its spell.
Bit of patriotic patriotism. Feedback welcome.
Sophie Marshall Feb 2016
There she stood, staring, reminiscing the memories of the baron, dusty land. The spirits dance through the dry, heated wind reflecting the sorrows and joys that interlace her mind.

A flashback of red.
An evil waiting for death,
Forcing rains away

Crack! The old gum faints as its roots recoil from the ground. The leaves try to grasp the sky, longing for something to quench their thirst. But the happiness braids through the heartache recapturing the strength of the town when the rain never came.

Restrictions are made,
Men cart water to cattle.
The drought starts again.

The red soil is rough against her bare feet as she walks past the tall eucalyptus trees and the large boulders covered in the maroon dust. The outback is a jail, away from everything yet demonic. The sky so blue is free from clouds bringing the fire over the land with its harmful rays. The sun is a dragon, burning everything in its path, nowhere will protect you from its clutches. As she sat on the boulder shaded by a gum, she remembered the past. Heat came in like an earthquake, so unexpected. No one thought it would come; it bought nothing but desolation to the land. As the sun gazed over the baron lands, the plants and creatures melted away.

Sun’s powerful rays,
The world has become a daze.
Life melting away

She couldn’t explain how she felt, her body all just felt numb. The failure of the crops and the death of the livestock had finally hit her hard. What if the drought lasts forever? What if we never see the rain? Out of all the droughts she saw this one topped the cake. She knew she had to keep her head high, she knew she had to be strong.  But how can she do that when the lives of the town are broken and left lying around?

Dreams are too far-gone,
Death is found on every road crossed.
Everything is gone

Weeks past and a cloud formed in the sky, the kangaroos danced in the shade that had finally come almost like it’s the first time. The land looked less red but now had a brownish tinge. The towns folk looked to the sky smiling, maybe the rain will finally come again.

A cloud is in sight,
Seconds are becoming lives.
Rain rain come again.

It soon became cooler; puffy clouds rolled into the sky. The town was slowly shaded from the scorching rays. Though the sun was now almost gone the town seemed brighter, Moo! The cows sing with joy and the smiling faces of the children running around the school with so much energy after years of having to sit and eat in the heat of the sun.

Brightness of the shade,
Singing and smiling all day.
The rain is so near.


White, agile and little clouds soon turned into heavy rain-filled clouds. All life stared into the sky waiting, and waiting, then something sizzled against the burning ground. She bent over and touched the area now darker than the rest of the ground and sighed with relief, that one little drop set everyone mad, excited, relieved. That’s when the rain poured down and that’s when everyone knew that the drought was gone; we survived last time; the war has only just begun; it will come back and hit us twice as hard; but we will conquer it again.
George Krokos Dec 2010
Aborigines and kangaroos
boomerangs and didjeridoos.
Leafy gum tree branch and koala bear
black stump in the middle of nowhere.
Jolly swagman camped by a billabong
in 'Waltzing Matilda' a favourite song.
The wild brumbies roaming free in the outback
a scruffy hobo living alone in a country shack.
Aboriginal myths called their dreamtime
the native Australians regard as sublime.
Ring-tailed possum and wombat
aussie bloke wearing akubra hat.
Alice Springs and Ayers Rock
outback stations and livestock.
Ned Kelly bushranger and his law brushes
the Eureka stockade during the gold rushes.
Laughing kookaburra and old man emu
platypus swimming in underwater view.
Banjo Patterson’s poem ‘The Man from Snowy River’
who went riding down mountain side without a quiver.
Surfers paradise and the Great Barrier reef
sixties rock ‘n roll legend: Johnny O’Keefe.
Anzac marches and the land of the Southern cross
old Cobb & Co. stagecoach used to travel across.
Glorious summer sunshine and winter rains
severe country drought and the desert plains.
Eucalyptus scent and Tea-tree oil
good health remedies from the soil.
Fresh water yabbies and the witchety grub
all make good tucker in the bush or scrub.
Crocodiles in the Kakadu national park
Burrumundi and the great white shark.
Sydney harbour bridge and the Opera House
Daintree rain forest and the kangaroo mouse.
Sheep wool farming and old shearing sheds
Melbourne Cup horse race for thoroughbreds.
Riverboat cruising up and down the Murray
passing border country towns not in a hurry.
Cradle mountain and the Tasmanian Devil
saying ‘fair dinkum’ means it’s on the level.
AFL rules football and big crowds at the MCG
playing one day cricket there is exciting to see.
The Fitzroy Gardens and Captain Cook’s cottage
are there for all to see as symbols of our heritage.
The Twelve Apostles standing along a rugged stretch of coast
a Ninety-Mile beach is something about which we can also boast.
The Glass House mountains are a sight to see and even to climb
by those who consider themselves fit enough and in their prime.
The great Australian Bight and the road on the Nullarbor plain
is a great feat to drive across and be able to come back again.
The local native wild dog known by name as the Dingo
has nothing to do with a game people play called Bingo.
There’s also a game called two-up that some people play
by which they gamble most of their weeks wages away.
Luna Park in St.Kilda and the annual Royal Melbourne Show
are places where you can take the kids to have fun people know.
There’s the local pub where you can go and have a drink with your mates
and is what many do all day long having a few too many in all the States.
This great southern land of Australia has so much to see and to offer
it would be a ****** shame if one didn’t give a **** or was a scoffer.
_________
Private Collection - written in 2002
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