caricature fiction like a functioning don't-ask- but- I'll-tell
it was a clover and a daisy's birthday by way of default and
Jesus Christ, this girl likes Terrence McKenna? In all immediate alleyway stores of coke and ketamine is the period at the end of every written sentence,
so the wait is something beyond me. the slate is a cleanliness devoid of practice

but whose really watching, kid.

you? or the television?

Information Required Order 38582 Moonshine Makin's

I intend to use this order to test
the viability of an herbal extracting service for local gardeners.
If there is interest
and our trials prove commercial, the methods
will be posted publicly, methodic.

The intended customer base is the home canning and preserving enthusiast, ****** societies, 'n'such.

Now, the pod cast, statement of use. Right, of course.
Right use is to be made of all the time we wish, and we wish to share the method we use.
With youse.
Here's my idea, at the moment

nothin,

then I hear this guy who got famous in the seventies,
in such a way that I would have known.
Had I been on the same planet
during the Seventies
and half the eighties.

Terrence McKenna, right. If I had survived 1970,
and things had been well positioned for that to have happened,
had I not...

What did we do, my strange friends, or was I the only one who does remember my last sane thought? Actually,

I don't. And then, I do. Quasar-ic-ish-ly.

An edit or two could change every thing,
imagine this Terrence
McKenna taught "Authentic Being" a sort, or class, of being,
very high and good.

We teach being authentic.

Being a being's been being a while,

upon multiple instants of
a time, best'n'worse, full'n'empty, war'n'peace

(i'sgottabeat)

yet never is hope absensed. Any time I tell a story,
hope springs eternal, soon

soon the old fool will see No one is listening, and wink.

No one and the fool have friended
upon such times as these,
No two, as well, (seedawink)
to a far lesser degree, ye may see.
Secret secret secret knowledge, gnosis, donchaknow,

is same as sacred, yes, yes, it is, sacred made, made sacred, samesame that's the game... secret

I am in me,me ni ma I
Magic Ab-io-alchemical Hermitical Heretic, am I. Spirit. Muse?

Are we lost? No. We are wiser than we were.
By any measure.

A statement of use for that we wish to take, once it is granted. What's the use? We stuck not knowin, right?

Wait, I have a chit
"All things pertaining to life and godliness have been given thee." Got that at VBS, by God.

Really, we are treading on Bunyan's tale? We escape the Giant Despond on a promise of a promise?

Yes,
seems so. So little is different. The road, seen rocky three decades ago, or so, now, it's

bricks, silicon bricks, I recon they been doped, ye ken?
Some ol loswoids crosswise need gold ducts to flow
past the reflective edge, where we saw that Mckenna

outright lie.
He did. Damright. Said Paradise was opened by the door that shut Eden, but he said that

Like it was a bad thing.
Jesus Christ, if he missed the whole reason there is a Bible and a Jesus in it, who is gone gowon his testified
psyc-hellic oppositio cunjunct-ifitis trip?

So, I missed the seventies,
as if I were flying from LA at forty k and I go on by, to land in 1985, after fifteen years enculturated to believe a not-so-complex,
on the surface, lie.

Truth has a strange mercurial 'spect,
all the light that can be reflected is reflected in mercury, see,
the edge twixt yinanyang, dang,

as far as we can see, tho'

we can't really even see HD, but
it seems better.

Reflecting on an idea is blissfull, but that's not the reason.

Staggering through streets lined by maples
Filled hours prior with revelers
Now mostly barren, save for one man
A sidewalk, and me
Weathered and wearing his shelter
Shoes unmistakably fastened and striding
As his meek voice timidly prattled
I slurred "what the hell are you doing?"
Patting him down before he got in my car
We drove to his church's mission
50 years old
He's from St. Louie, saw his sister a ways back
Dead mother, spectrous father
Six foot 140
Likes it here

WE ARE THE CHILDREN OF GOD ,,

And as such ,,,
This well could actually be our
elementary schooling ,

In classroom earth we've just not long moved in
To start our years of learning~
Others have been here for their time
As they for knowledge we are yearning~
We've found a lot of mysteries here
Ones that this time we cannot explain~
But we will have the answers when
We've done our years of rein~
Its said in scrolls and the many bibles of God
Gods day is a thousand years to our day one~
So we've only been here six days yet
According to the teachings now of some~
But the ages of this classroom earth
Go back before our knowledge and our knowing
Many different races , species , and gifts of God
Have been in this classroom longer than winds blowing
Our past loves ones spent time in classroom earth
They learned in their way as we've to do~
Then too moved on to yet another higher class
To see the rest of their schooling through~
One by one they've all left this class
As one by one we as well eventually will do~
And one by one this time around
We like them will go to higher classes too~
We wont need or use our bodies there at all
Just our intellect and love~
Lots of positive loving imagination as well
And always help from God both around us and above~

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 1978

Theres an original Aussie lingo
That out there one can hear~
Most of all when you are in the country
And places like that you love so dear~
RIPPA RITA , An aussie bush expression of rejoice~
When something really goes so well
And usually not by choice~
FAIR DINKUM means simply for real
Are you fair dinkum mate~
STRUTH another real Aussie expression
A bush word for something that you hate~
Just a few words of real Aussie lingo
You might hear now and again~
SEND HER DOWN HUGHY they'll cry
When they reall do need rain~
STONE THE CROWS you'll hear them yell
When something happens by surprise~
Often in the country
When they can't believe their eyes~
HOWZ ZAT a bloke will often call out
when he manages to do something better than right~
And very indeed proud of himself
Without trying to skite~
RIGHTIO dad will call out to mum
When she hollows don't forget to get the bread~
TOO FLAMEN RIGHT he'll say back to her
When she says well ... did ja get it ted~
YA GREAT GALLOOT is what they'll call you
When you do something really wrong~
So much original Aussie lingo
They should put it all within a song~
SHIELA'S are of course suingle women
Who often are as well called BIRDS~
All this fantastic Aussie terminology
How I miss all these words~
Ocker's are usually blokes in shorts and thongs
They call thongs Japanese riding boots~
CODJA'S are older blokes
Sometimes they call them COOT'S~
COCKIES are blokes that own properties
STRIKEN A BLOW is a term for work~
BLUDGERS are those that don't like do do it
And being lazy is to of course SHIRK~
All that age old aussie lingo
I miss it so I do~
Can't wait to say HOWZ YA GOEN MATE
And G DAY to a mate or two~
It's all got a sound of it's own
One gets used to it in life~
Like the LITTLE WOMEN and THE BETTER HALF
Is what they call a wife a wife~

( Was'nt game to use spell check lol )

https://youtu.be/PT331BRkkP0

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

I never really liked gardening before
But I needed to fix up the one down back
It was getting like an empty space
Behing my appartment on a track

I'm only young so much to be done
And an old gardener saw me there
Came over and said need a hand
Goodness yes as I pinned back my hair

Wasn't long and I loved gardening so
Older gardeners they really do know
How to get it all as I'd dreamed some
And how to make it beautiful and grow

Now I'm in that garden every chance
And when he sees me he will call around
I have a secret or two just how it all grew
Among my lemon grass upon the ground

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Working on a large sheep prperty once
On days not much doing way out dig cactus
One day doing just this I caught a flash
Owner on his old horse up a hill for practice

Watching me the old coot he was that day
To see if I on my own  was doing my work
The sun sent me a flash from his binoculars
The old guy was an untrusting kind of ****

Just below me a soil erosion twent feet deep
That ran for about a real good mile away
I rode down and right up it for a mile
And right up behind him fifty tards I say

******* my horse sat under a big old tree
Rolled myself a smoke and watched him
Looking all over away down there was he
Chances finding me down there were slim

He was getting so frustrated binoculars too
Where the hell did that bloke go he said
Looking all about for me that day was he
I just smiled rolled another smoke instead

Him standing in his old half worn saddle
Where the hell did that bloke I ask go
I'll be having a real good talk to him later
Can't trust anyone I said nows a good ya know

http://i197.photobucket.com/albums/aa290/tracymay27/CowboyCampFire.jpg

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

https://youtu.be/rjkrjYitgeA

All that and more ..

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

A poet writes of life as they know it to be
Of things that matter so to them~
They share their thoughts and feelings so
Of future' Their now ' Away back when~
Positivity in every way although
Life has in reality it's up's and down's~
If one does not see life as it is
Within some fantassy world so many drown~
Life for the most created now by man alone
The life we know today it's true~
The life the poet now sees in reality
Has mans touch all of the way through~
But as well a poet tries to see all the flowers
And the love that is still to be found~
Nature and all of Gods gifts to us
And good loving hearts and souls around~
At those that look deeply within a soul
Regardless of colour and or race~
At all of Gods own children
And at our one planet here in space~
A poet feels the very pain
As they as well feel the joy~
And the love of all upon earth
Of every born girl and boy~

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright ( Originally 2007 ) 2018

We two sitting out upon the verandah
On a Sunday late may cooler afternoon
And you were knitting clicking away
As I sat enjoying a port when very soon

Two birds so high away up in the blue sky
I stopped and turned around looking at you
You looking over your glasses saying .. what
You waiting for my answer a puzzled true

I said  look at those two birds away up there
Side by side of how they together as one fly
Both in the very same direction perfectly
And they are only birds will be till they die

You and I can't agree on anything at all
Try to do so we do so every other single day
Since I married you down the street its true
We spend most of conversation arguing I say

They are only birds and always flying as one
Regardless of the weather come what may
And here we are a supposed inteligent species
Yet we argue over everything every single day

terrence michael sutton    
copyright  2018

Planting a tree is a good thing
But remember it must survive on it's own-
Planting a small grove of two or three
Each one helps the other till grown-

When and if one happens to suffer
The others drop leaves and water too-
Watering roots and providing shade
Helping the others to make it through-

Trees provide air upon our earth
Without them we'er in trouble true-
Planting a small grove of trees
Is a more than wonderful thing to do-

Down in a corner not used much
Down by a river away-
A small grove of trees provide shelter
For birds and wild life every day-

One third they say of our earths air
Comes from forests away they cut all the time-
Planting a tree I'm sure you'll agree
Is a way to help all far down the line-

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 2018 ( First written years ago ) ..

If one day my pen became a brush
Oh how I'd paint so well for you~
I do love so as well in life to paint
But can't seem to do it here it's true~
I'd paint for you the mountains and the trees
The cloud formations , sandy beaches long~
I'd paint my true love , and all above
With colors pastel and so gently strong~
Such scenes of care beyond compare
How I'd paint the sun and as well the moon~
If my pen was to become but a brush
I'd paint dew drops on a red balloon~
Rays of sunshine wet on roses
Butterflies in flight~
If my pen was but a brush
How I'd paint as well as write~
If my pen became a brush its true
I'd even paint your smile~
I'd paint how I feel about just you
And how I'd do so with such style~
If my pen became a brush
I'd paint the whole world for you~
And if my pen became a brush
I'd paint of my love for you so true~

Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018

I've learned all teachers of life taught me
I have always walked a strictest lin
Did all those who are my equals said to
And might I say did them better more so fine

But before my soul decided another lesson
To be born to free to be the captain of my soul
Way over time I researched few things sublime
And listenened to this very own soul of mine

Who gave any the right to instruct their way
Upon my soul since it became myself long ago
Its time I let go and its  time I flew to feelings new
Its time I listened to my souls experience to know

Time I undressed time I confessed its simplytime
That I took over inmy own souls fields of clover true
Well over time I ignored their oh so holy advice
Loved life more hell to heaven all things old and new

Time for a time I knew moments so fine ever sublime
Time I undressed confessed and by passed this mess
Well over time I loved more this soul of mine
And with a likwise thinker spent time and flew

(( I'VE  NEVER  BEEN  TO  ME  ))

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018

Endless souls we know from go to woe
Sometimes theres a few that will never know~
All souls are born and live and learn and exist
But theres always a few of this will never be kissed~
All souls live and leave to rise above
But theres a few sadly who will not know the gift of love~
It's lifes most priceless gift ever to be
And for those who find it it's ecstasy~
Once found nothing this gift can anything destroy
The real precious true love of a girl and boy~
It lasts forever and always in time
The gift of true love for ever divine~
So many sadly they come and sadly they go
But theres sadly a few this gift of love will ever know
It's there for one and it's there for all
But only ones heart can hear its call~
Only those that know it could ever explain
How now they wont need to seach for true love again~
It's the highest emotion the gift of true love
One of the most priceless of gifts from god above~
Clever souls adapt the ability to see
It within the very eyes of those so inlove that be~
It lasts forever and till the end of time
The gift of love forever divine~
Sadly always a few that will not know of its thrill
Ever so sadly some they never will~
Unless they listen to the strings of their hearts and souls
And seach for same as was in days of old~
No gift as precious as priceless on earth or above
As the knowing you have found the gift of true love~
If all on earth could only know
And hear those words I love you so~
To be with another as hand in glove
To know that feeling of the gift of love~  

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright 2018

It matters not who you are where from
Each entity has and is a soul things to say
What it sees from where its standing
Upon any given night and any given day

Each soul has a voice and every poem too
Is what it wishes us to experience knowing
From wanting us to gather information
Happiness sadness Love from winds blowing

We make it harder for our souls thinking
That we controll our fate destiny and way
Instead of listening to our souls own voice
And what it has us for us to explore any day

Be it love in all forms from lust to simple care
And it gets angry with us ignoring its request
We often give ourselves advice its our ignorance
Not having been there yet not knowing of its test

Convincing ourselves we know when we do not
Telling others of our own ideas how it should be
Reasons why we should listen to it act upon it
Have bodies minds hearts sail that unsailed sea

It comes to us with a thought a wish a need
And we decide oh no thats not for me and so
We miss its requests for us to find out first
Before speaking for it not allowing do it go

Think of all many advise without knowing
Of things we have never known but insist
Of things situations emotions never learned
Feelings we feel not me but still  never kissed

Saving ourselves religious fantasy from equals
Listening to endless advice from pretenders
Who never have been there but know it all
Without lives putting  lives through blenders

Ignoring our own souls requests playing god
Our souls get angry adding karma to awake
Then us blaming others life others unknowing
When its ourselves to blame  our own mistake

Walk those paths never walked befor then advise
Know more of things we ridicule often true
Know what a situation feels like first of all
They might be  way better than we ever knew

Endless reason there are for allowing our souls
To request us to do as it wants us to do
Then after we experience pass its tests
We might like dislike love admire of them true

Many reasons are there for its voice being poetry
Try to read others writes between lines that be
Think deep then write of how you imagine was
If not known then go sail that unknown sea

https://sep.yimg.com/ay/yhst-13927681880659/bronze-the-thinker-sculpture-2.jpg

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Unbeknowst to all,
The tree of life has three stages.
Trunk. Branch. Oil.
Terrence Malick knew this.
Dinosaurs our oil.

Ten sephira. One oil.
It is my burden of dreams, I shall prevail through the pongo del muerto.
Foucault's pendulum spilling sand. Spilling oil.

Scaoil. Release. Urchar.
Sraith pictiúr a ceathar.
Airborne toxic event.
Seepage Daniel. Seepage.
Put Oil.

Away back in the beginning of time
Their became a plan~
To organize the earths greatest concert ever
That would be through the earth and land~
A one and only first time ever
Concert such as this upon this earth~
North,East,South ,West,
Around the planet girth to girth~
Created naturally by earths own nature
Supported right throughout of every land~
By every living thing and entity that be
To create a musical symphony ever grand~
A concert of nature to have all upon earth
To be all ever so very aware~
Of all the sounds and music and gifts of nature
All playing their own beyond compare~
Of all natures music upon this earth
In such a perfect and natural way~
Of all the sounds that are around to be heard
From every part of earth,land sea,night or day~
All played and performed only from nature
As only nature it's self would have it be~
Every single entity playing it's own songs
One grand natural symphony~
From all of things on earth that always existed
And from many more that still exist today~
As much recording effort was simply not needed
To have them all so naturally sing and play~
Sounds of nature and songs from all entities
From wind,the ocean and breeze~
From even smallest crickets to the elephants
All take part in natures songs with ease~
The rain it played it's many rhythms
And how all the breezes lent such a hand~
Smallest frogs within natures natural brooks
All singing in tune from mountains tops down to beach sand~
The many tall trees play their forest flutes
All gardens put on such a display~
With all from butterflies to busy bees
Every entity producing their music natures way~
Endless birds singing their songs
Babbling brooks playing over washed clean stones~
And even upon the wildernesses many planes
The wind their plays songs with grasses,sand and bones~
Not a natural animal or insect to be left out
Every single smallest and largest thing~
All part of natures gifts and talents
As one the sounds of nature they all sing~
The largest ever to be natural earths own concert
All in tune to this day is still taking place~
Nature never needed to record it at all
As it is always playing perfectly with natural grace~
One could not list all of the musicians
So many and so well how they play~
Free of charge non stop day and night
Natures gift nobody has to pay~
One never needs to buy it as it's free
For one and all upon this earth~
All they have to do is stop to listen
To natures symphonies of such worth~


Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2008

At times one gets the notion to get lost
Just walk upon a track many seldom go
Take a staff to steady the rough stuff
Supplies shelter food some tools its so

Camera mobile spare batties axe knife
Pens pads matches or lense for camp fire
Alone your soul your home your very own
Peaceful thinking time bed roll silent desire

Ridding ones mind of stresses not yours
Allowing mind soul to take an earned break
Away from endless followers of total garbage
You the moon stars natures gifts thus to take

Away from gas bag preachers politicians too
A fool a mule knows how they lie as they do
Wasting others lives like the wasps in hives
Such a time its time of this time I knew

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRUojXUAVtxElL3c2ysK3b5YqCy8x0S2EdHNGscTuUKaWSC­Ym77

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

We all have an aura .. Around our bodies
Aura magnetic aura's are they
Like a magnet one side attracts the other
Pushes some things thus so away

How often has one said she's lovely he's not
What had her choose him wondering why
How often has one been drawn to another
So many have remarked re this cannot deny

Walking into a room one's drawn to another
Or as well pushed away from one the see
It's like a magnet pulling pushing drawing
It's the science of lovedoing it's thing  basicly

One's aura is a powerful thing at times in life
Doing as it does so often naturally in it's way
Bringing souls together or rejecting them
Without us knowing often upon night or day

Aura's indicate positive negative like dislike
It's a natural thing that surrounds us true
Aura's read Red anger Yellow cowardness
And sadness at times comes in shades of blue

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

My friend Terrence
was a little happy sole,
he didn't need a kennel,
nor a house or a hole.

His home was a shell
that he carried on his back,
so that all he had to do
was drop down on the track.

Then he'd pull his head inside,
followed by his legs and feet
and he’d look inside the fridge
for something tasty to eat.

If it started raining
or got too chilly cold,
his friends would run for shelter
beneath trees or in their holes.

But not our little friend,
because he'd climb inside his shell
and have a cup of tea
until the sun chased off the chill.

Wherever he did travel,
he would walk so nice and slow,
well there's no need to rush,
you might trip or stub your toe!

“And all the good things
come to those that wait”,
or so his mother told him
as he headed through the gate.

“If you’re rushing all the time
and your feet don’t want to stop
then you’ll end up getting dizzy
like a whizzing spinning top”.

His mother, how she loved him
and he loved her lots, right back
with her funny little sayings
she would help him stay on track.

So there my tale has ended,
for all you girls and boys,
and now you've met my little friend,
Terence the Tortoise.



*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 25th February 2014.
Revised, 30th August 2015.
Artwork by Angie Caira.
© 2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

To me its so important smell in life
A fragence tells me all I need to know
If a meal smells good it tastes good
Some flowers I like others just not so

I can even smell the oncoming rain
I love the smell of first drop dry ground
I love my personal after shave deodorant
A smell talks volumes without a sound

Some womens perfume stops me dead
I love the smell of scones freshly made
I love the smell of natural countryside
The oceans salty oxygen of highest grade

I can always tell if my mothers about
Besides the fact shes been dead for years
Her Lilly Of The Valley how it lingers
My fathers tobacco same deal same tears

Smells are to me everything I need to know
Mostly good plus a few somewhat bad
I don't need to see as long as I can smell
They make me happy sometimes sad



terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

2 | 31 Poems for August 2016

A poem written by my heart so every single word you hear is a pulse.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask Luyanda – even she knows it.
Things change, circles grow smaller, conversations get shorter and eventually hearts grow distant.
But I’m glad that Luyanda, Faith and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost my numbers by now.
If you’re willing to talk to me, I promise to listen like I always do.
You can count on me like an abacus, sounds cliché but you know it’s true.
Even if things don’t always go my way, I just hope that everything will be okay.
I’m learning to embrace a metamorphosis I was previously oblivious to.
It’s still no mystery why my aura will always long for the company of yours.
I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet.
I still write beautiful words; you can ask William – even he knows it.
Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually.
Things change but I’m glad that William, Terrence and I still manage to talk every now and then.
It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air.
Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost all touch with most people by now.

After this earth this time renewed again
After man on his egotistical horse rode
After he stting himself up as all knoing
His own path walked traveled strode

After being way too ahead of himself
After endless time this time often told
In one ear and diectly out of the other
Little boys never grow but always bold

The last soul weeps for mans stupidity
Long after being abused in many a way
By all the knowing ever so brilliant mind
When he's gone women will survive  stay

His ego blinded him not love money as well
Greed and self opinnion diluted his very mind
Blaming women always since he invented Eden
Heres hoping he can look back this to find

A lone woman weeps for mans own doing
Asking how much proof did he ever need
To see the mistakes he made within his actions
And to think it all mostly came down to greed

( For picture to explain this poem ..
  www.etastic.com  aussiepoet  )

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Walking in a corn field the other day
I came across a scare Crow standing there
His shirt was stuffed full of oldesy maze
A big smile of I'm so beautiful to wear

He had a look of  I'm the only one in life
That knows anything that's worth knowing
Perfectly at home was he with a big stick
Placed well up where the wind is often blowing

Looked as wonderful as he alone believed
Had no time for others that had traveled so
A proud look upon his painted face to wear
Ask him anything and I'm sure that he'd know

Not ever realizing he never knew that grammer
Was a piece of fruit that made the perfect pie
And yes the crows simply adored him endlessly
He was covered in crow calling cards from the sky

But thats his little world and being nice I guess
That's where he'll always be so easy thus to find
All dressed up in his best stuffed shirt of blue
The academic scare crow with little else on his mind

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018

As a flower blooms it gives its best
Not that aware of others that are around
As each star it shines it shines alone
Not that aware of others seen from the ground

As a tree it grows, It grows as brilliant
As it can grow according to its lot on earth
It provides oxygen and only takes its own space
But though its only a tree it has such worth

As a cloud so high within the vastest sky
Its within its self beautiful even if alone
All things taken more so for granted in life
Are important as any other .. earth their home.

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2013

spending time with you is like
being cast eternally as a character in
a Terrence Malick film, a narrator dictating
our every move, our scripts unfolding
in slow, mesmerizing motion

someone always has to die in these tales
and question the almighty's purpose, if there
be one, beyond birth and return to the earth;
the time between being swallowed
by our eyes, undigested

I am ****** in as well, slowly, by the lungs
of our creator, whose exhalations come as oceans of light,
though high tides recede to reveal dark shores,
our inevitable demise, before painful,
interminable resurrections

Away up the top  in Australia
Simply days drive from anywhere at all~
We were camped on the side of a river bank
Not far from a wet season water fall~
Running outa food to some extent
I assured them we were fine~
That I as camp cook had enough to last us
And tonight as usual we were gonna dine~
We were up there on a top end fishing trip
And Id been up there before~
Where the best fish were only caught
In the land that I adore~
One bloke had a friend with him
Who was a city well fed chum~
And he kept boasting how his wife could cook
As he sat swigging on the last of his ***~
I knew they were going up stream for the day
To fish and do some prospecting up the way~
And I told them tonight a real Irish stew
And he replied that sounds real good ay~
He said no way I can eat that bush tucker
I gotta have whats proper and comes from shops~
I don't eat that out back wild bush Tucker stuff
It ll never pass through my chops~
But Irish stew yes that ll do
It sounds real good ta me~
When we get back from up the track
I ll have my share you wait an see~
So they left in one direction
And I left in the other~
Hoping the thick bushland would act as
To my rifle shots a cover~
I shot a Roo and a Goanna
A Bandicoot and one wild cat~
And then I shot a large parrot
Got a young croc in the water and headed back~
A little ways from the camp
I used a fallen log as a butchers block~
And then I got this big bucket full
Of meaty bits right to the top~
The fire now lit and big cooking *** half full
I went on a wild herb search~
And when down by the river again
I got my self a pool trapped perch~
Added it as well to the stew
With bush herbs and thickened with some flour~
And I can tell in awhile it smelt so good
When they d be due back in about an hour~
Had honey Id robbed from a distant hive
So I made a patty cake or two~
With what flour I had left
Yep .... That ll surely do~
Well when they got back the aroma drifted
And they picked it up down the track~
And couldn't wait to eat the lot
And complimented the cook for the snack~
The city bloke that did all the complaining
About running out of food~
Said he was sorry that he went on a bit
And didn't mean to be at all rude~
He said Id have died if I had to eat bush Tucker
And believe me it is true~
In all my life .. including the wife
Never tasted a better Irish stew~

Terrence Michael Sutton
copyright ( 1970 )  .....2018

I must be getting old almost time to give it all away
I seem to like a little quiet in order to think of late
So many where I am full blast as if music at 7 a m
Speakers turned up might be time to shut the gate

I love to write always did might be time to move
To a mountain hut high away from all of this
A writer of any kind loves their peace of mind
Of late where I am a writer cannot call it bliss

If you don't hear from me for awhile I''ll be fine
Love to all that in any way can understand
Write on stay precious be sincere know love
Allow your soul to place a pen within your hand

terrence michael sutton
copyright 2018

Thank you .. I will be leaving the site as it seems
I've upset one .. Sharron .. ( Her notes to me sounded more like a nun dealing with menopause ....) If any wish to drop in n say hello welcome ..One on here cannot copy and paste ..s on .. Many here I adore but too old to be be questioned by a soul most born after I was 50 ..At anytime aussie­poet2642@gmail.com If thats not allowed they can deal with it .. Much love U & Yours x

Terrence Michael Sutton
aussiepoet

https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQAYXfrmbeJ0ye7COd8WY2-bFymOeNAXWsDnh5MAS-15B­CCW0vw

Oh I adore Black Eyed Suzie so much
How she climbs aver my backyard fence
So beautiful she is when shes on display
With her audacity my fence has no defence

And when she not as lovely as she can be
Others make good use of her being there
So many others climbing all over her
Total beauty beyong all others to be fair

She loves Honey Suckles for company
When its as well in fullest bloom down back
Just give her half a  chance all she needs
She never will ever be found looking slack

terrence michael sutton
copyright  2018