Friday, 28 February 2014

February 28: From Nha Trang to Hoi An, that is our plan ...


Four days in Nha Trang, with all of the gang, we had a great time all together
We went to a wedding, and now we are heading, up north for more temperate weather
We flew for an hour, we passed the Flight Tower, and hit the ground with a bump in Hoi An
Three nights we’ve set down, in this historical town, then another flight north is our plan

A great holiday, for two weeks we’re away, but it seems like a month maybe more
We met up with old friends, and we’d do it again, there's so much of this land to explore
The food here is fantastic, our attention's scholastic, we’ve sampled the poor and divine
Stir-fried chicken and pork, I’ve had both on my fork, I’ve even drunk pure Snake Wine

But we’re in our last week, an extension we seek, but to work I must go far too soon
Dry season’s okay, but too long please don’t stay, or else you might meet a typhoon
That will uproot your house, remove both you and your spouse, and make your life a real mess
But soon we’ll be home, I’ll be back on the phone, and looking for work I confess

Thursday, 27 February 2014

February 27: Conroy, sit down and shut up ...


Angus Campbell got it right, when back to Conroy, he took the fight
 “There’s a cover-up here and you’re involved”, Conroy spat, but Campbell resolved
“I take extreme offence at what you say”, said Campbell of this poor display
The closest Conroy gets to Campbell’s caper, is when he reads it in the paper

You’d think Defence he might endorse, his old man a Sergeant in our Air Force
But he studied Economics at the ANU, then his political ambition he did pursue
Moved south to Melbourne, joined the Upper House, he might be pretty smart, but he lacks a bit of nouse
And he’s not adverse to helping out his friends, he got his dodgy mate a job with the NBN

Our border control operations, they don't disclose, and it’s getting right up the opposition's nose
But for many months no boats have reached our land, something Labor could not stop, now they just grandstand
Your sad attack on Campbell's integrity, was weak and it was gutless, but that flaw you could not see
Your ill-thought out desperate and misguided quip, saw your big left boot in your bottom lip

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

February 26: Wedding day ... for Barb and Daniel



We stand here in silence, your day it has come, your celebration has begun
Groups of friends and family, we seek shelter under shady trees
Down on the beach, so clean and white, we watch on fondly as you unite
And express your love and dedication, to and for each other, your confirmation

Two fine friends to all who are here, each one of us we hold you dear
You hear the water, you feel the breeze, it bends serenely through the trees
Gentle waves roll up the beach, while into our hearts your words they reach
Heartfelt words so softly spoken, a magic spell, never broken

To Barb and Daniel, this day is yours, one you will remember for ever more
The day you wed down on the sand, both lost in love, hand in hand
Precious memories of Mia Resort, where we all met to give support
To your union as man and wife; may you both enjoy a cherished life

February 25: This is their paradise ...


As I sat and ate my lunch today, I sheltered from the ocean’s spray
Another simply perfect day
Right here in paradise
I watched the boats sail east to west, and felt my heart pound in my chest
I thought to myself I am impressed
Right here in paradise

The beach is white, the sand is clean, the water's clear and so pristine
Did I tell you that my life’s a dream
Right here in paradise
I’ve tasted all the local fare, it tastes so good, it does, I swear
I did not leave a morsel there
Right here in paradise

I had a swim, I felt so good, I’m eating far more than I should
I’d exercise more if I could
Right here in paradise
Tomorrow is their wedding day, this is why we came this way
What more should I have to say
Right here in paradise

Tomorrow one more rhyme I’ll write, it might not be til late at night
But the syncopation it will be right
Right here in paradise
We came here just to celebrate, it is their time, it is their fate
We are here just to demonstrate
This is their paradise

Monday, 24 February 2014

February 24: Have you ever watched the traffic ...


Have you ever watched the traffic as it’s streaming down your street
Have you ever wondered why and how two people came to meet
Have you ever sat and listened to the tumbling of the sea
You’ll never need to wonder, when you’re right here with me

Have you ever pondered history and what has happened to our earth
Have you ever looked within yourself and wondered at your worth
Have you ever wished for happiness when your heart is sad inside
You’ll never need to think or wish, in me you can confide

Your world is full of wonders, but not all are clearly seen
Your heart is full of magic that keeps me in your scene
It’s easy to be hopeful when there’s hope inside your heart
A heart that’s full of hope is a heart with a head start

Have you ever sat watching as small children pass the time
Have you ever stood in wonder at a mountain you can’t climb
Have you ever contemplated at what you have become
You’ll never need to dwell on that, to your heart I did succumb

Do you ever think of where you’d be if you weren’t here with me
Do you ever sit and stare at things you’re sure you cannot see
Have you ever reflected on your life, and wished for something better
Or are you at your most comfortable in your old and worn out sweater

Our life is full of wonders, we’ve shared some hopes and dreams
Not every day is paradise, and we’ve had our extremes
But there are many more to come, good times for us to share
My life is so much more complete, just knowing that you’re there

Sunday, 23 February 2014

February 23: One more ...


Today it is Sunday, another rhyme it must be done
I wrote one for you earlier, but the words have come undone
My head is disconnected, my mind it is confused
I made so many rhymes today, which ones have I used

I'm working hard to be original, trying to entertain
Trying not to repeat myself, lest my words become mundane
So many words, so many rhymes, the combinations infinte
But I must think of a new one, 'cause failure is just not right

Saturday, 22 February 2014

February 22: On yer bike mate ...


The Hotel Continental displays its fiery neon lights
While traffic fights for access across the plaza every night
Motorbikes and taxis, like a wax works on the move
I’m channeling the Angels but with a different kind of groove

A vulnerable cyclist winds his way across the square
Looking all around him so he doesn’t get a scare
When a bustling forty seater chooses not to stop on red
If amber’s the new green at home, over here it's full ahead

Road rules here are optional, it’s your choice which you choose
On two wheels your life's in your hands, come off, you cop the bruise
Left and right around they go, it’s random I do swear
Chaos is too kind a word, it's going every where

A Mercedes, its left indicator, pulsating in the night
Caused a serious kerfuffle when it turned sharply to the right
The old bloke on the moped had flashes of his next life
The young man on the crossing reached desperately for his wife

No one has died within our view since we landed in this place
Not one bike crash have we seen as they vie for the smallest space
I checked my travel insurance, I’m going bungee jumping at night
That’s okay, it’s safe they say, but you can’t ride a motorbike

Friday, 21 February 2014

February 21: Sailing up the Mekong ...


We’re sailing up the Mekong, and bloody heck it’s dark
N’ere a light for miles around, in the distance dogs they bark
The water is a dirty brown; it’s used for every chore
Bathing, cooking, wash your clothes, and know of at least one more

We stopped a while along the way, and went out for a ride
Seven miles we pedaled, nearly killed my tender hide
Back on the boat; a foot massage, a prod, a twist, a rub
A nice cold beer topped off the day, as we waited for our grub

Our tour guide’s name is Nhi, a tiny local girl
Forty kilos dripping wet, she wants to see the world
Only five of us on this timber junk, so restful and serene
Dinner isn’t far away, after riding, I’m pretty keen

The local fare it hits the spot, accompanied by some wine
The pork and prawns and rice paper rolls, tasted quite divine
Tomorrow back to Ho Chi Min, for one more night therein
Before we head north for the wedding, where celebrations will begin

I know it’s a great holiday, ‘cause it feels like it’s been a week
Off to see new places, sights and sounds just so unique
Rest and relaxation, a great thing you can bet
But I cannot post this rhyme tonight, ‘cause I’ve got no internet

Thursday, 20 February 2014

February 20: Fifty two today, fifty two today ...


Today it is her birthday, she has just turned fifty-two
Which is still a little less than me, so I guess that she will do
We are here in Saigon, just taking in the sights
It’s hot right now, but later on, there will be a pleasant coolish night
We went out for a walk today, to see the Royal Palace
Got a guided tour, but looks to me like a great big ranch from Dallas

A hundred thousand Dong is a bit more than five bucks
I lost my wireless connection, and my mental arithmetic it sucks
Half the bloody time I just do not have a clue
Did I just pay forty dollars, or was it fifty-two
The traffic over here it's madness in the extreme
We watch people cross the road, never again are they seen

I got some terrific photos of the mopeds at the lights
A bit like our Moto GP, but without all the fights
Very patient and so kind, these Vietnamese folk
None of them drink bourbon, so I’ve had theirs mixed with Coke
Tomorrow in the morning we’re going on a boat
Up and down the Mekong, I so hope it stays afloat

Tonight we will venture out for a flashy restaurant meal
For putting up with me, her reward is such a steal
Almost thirty years of life with me, her patience is outstanding
I am a very nice fellow, but I can sometimes be demanding
But this one is not about me at all, it’s about my bride Maria
Who even past the half century mark, is gorgeous, you should see her

Wednesday, 19 February 2014

February 19: At Changi airport, Singapore ...


In seat 31K I sat for the flight, the seat was okay, the food was all right
But the child in row thirty was the devil in drag, she would not be quiet, I put up a flag
We just could not cope with the pitiful noise; we both did our best to maintain our poise
I turned to her father and said with a smirk, “If she does not be quiet, I will go berserk”

I paid money to sit here in exit row ten, I doubt if I’ll be paying ever again
My tray table it would not extend to full length, I’m going insane, please give me strength
And every eight seconds, a kick in the back; my seat it would jerk, I was starting to crack
My patience was waning, good humour diminished; in four short-ish hours, our journey was finished

We left the first plane in downtown Singapore; two hours in the bar, then back for some more
One hour thirty to Ho Chi Min City, I could feel the insides of my eyeballs getting gritty
A very long day, that started at four, when we reach our destination, there’ll be time for one more
When my head hits the pillow I'm out like a light; but we'll do it again, the very next night

tbc

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

February 18: The fall of a grubby little man ...


Please send a girl to my hotel
I’ve got credit; I’ll pay her well
But in a court in Melbourne he fell from high
Theft and fraud convictions, but would still deny
I did not do it, I have been framed”, the liar he did claim
But the magistrate he did not agree, awarding Craig the blame

Thomson could not lie straight in bed
That Union power went straight to his head
He helped himself to other people’s money
But when accused he thought it funny
I have an alibi” he told the press, but they did not believe
His wife she bolted and he kept it up, still trying to deceive

Labor dumped him, and then he lost his seat
His entire sad life lies dying at his feet
Such a poor example of an honourable man
Who in our Parliament once did stand
A thief a liar and a cad, his sad lies he just repeated
His lies and denials comprehensively defeated

On a day not far away, he's back to court for sentence
A not-guilty plea, means nothing off for repentance
Five years in jail for each charge he does face
But some people say he won't see a moment in that place
A grubby little man with a grubby little life
His ego took him to the top and then got him into strife

Monday, 17 February 2014

February 17: It moves your soul ...

I polished up my motorbike and set out for a ride
I put on my favourite jeans, to try to save my hide
I grabbed my trusty helmet; I put on my summer gloves
I put on my boots, I turned the key, this is something that I love

I’m belting up a three laned road, I’m scraping through the bends
All the time I am responsible, speed cameras are my friends
Never being stupid, and I never play the fool
I need to stop in not too long; I’m very low on fuel

I’m winding through the forests, the trees filter out the sun
As I lean into the corners, I’m having awesome fun
I watch the road with hawk like eyes, looking for the flaw
That could bring me down, I wear a frown, where I’ll finish I’m not sure

But today I need not worry, today is paradise
A great day out, and I’m safely home, the ride was very nice
I didn’t get a ticket, and I didn’t get a fright
After a fun day on the motorbike, I sleep peacefully at night

But I know at any moment, my good luck it could change
One inattentive driver, and my life might be rearranged
A moment of distraction, a loss of concentration
Might wreck my day, so stay away, or suffer my frustration

So if you don’t get that feeling, if you can’t feel the passion
If the reason that your bike is red is so you fit with fashion
If it doesn’t give you goose bumps, if it doesn’t make you whole
Then give it up and take the bus, it will never move your soul

Sunday, 16 February 2014

February 16: The man on the land ...


As I watched the morning news today, I saw our toughest folk
Trying to maintain their livelihood, even though they’re stony broke
I watched their cattle thin and starving, sheep that looked the same
I saw farmers who had nothing left; felt their frustration, felt their pain

There’d been no rain for three long years, then Abbott came to town
For a self-indulgent interview, and then the rain came tumbling down
Hard rain on tin such a welcome sound, drowned out the desperation
But months of rain like this they need, before life’s good on the station

As they told their struggling stories, tears welled in my eyes
Their strength and perseverance, they kept up their positive guise
Sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, they toil for no reward
They won’t give up, they will not give in, ‘til their land it is restored

But suicide and broken families, the men struggle to carry on
What once was a comfortable lifestyle, is very much long gone
When will the tide turn in their favour, when will the drought come to an end
When will their stock return to health, so to market they can send

Our farmers need a helping hand, to keep their lives on track
They’re not asking for a handout, when life’s good they’ll give it back
We hand out funds to losers, without a second thought
Lazy buggers who will not work, whose contribution comes to naught

Tony’s visit was very grand, but unless he helps them go the distance
He might as well have stayed at home, our farmer’s need assistance
Those on the land they are our backbone, we need them to do well
If they need our help we should put in, and buy what it is they sell

The tide will turn, the rain will come, their land it will recover
The days of old they will come back, good times they will discover
But until they do, they need our help, our support to keep on going
And when the skies they open up, their rivers will start flowing

Saturday, 15 February 2014

February 15: Twenty seven years ...

In nineteen hundred and eighty-six, when I was twenty-five
My bride and I we tied the knot, our love we could not hide
Today’s our celebration; twenty-seven years together
Love and understanding, but not always perfect weather

To celebrate our milestone, we’re off to Vietnam
To watch two of our dearest friends, as they walk, arm in arm
Down the beach, as they begin the start of something new
As we reflect on the day back when, we both said, “I do”

She followed me around the country, as we moved upon demand
Supporting and encouraging, beside me she would stand
As I chased my own ambitions, hers stayed on the shelf
My dreams came first, and she thought of me, never of herself

Now she has her own ambitions, how she wants to spend her time
Commits her day to saving, our wildlife, injured in their prime
Every day an unknown mixture of pain and of elation
As she realises she that in her life she’s finally found her station

Friday, 14 February 2014

February 14: Valentine's Day ... one view ...


Roses are red, but wine is red too, it seems that I don't have enough things to do
So I looked up Saint Val, just to inquire, just why he’s the Saint of love we admire
It seems that not much did he do on this day; I’ve checked Wikipedia, he just passed away
They can’t even decide if he’s one Saint or two; really and truly, you’d think that they knew

Nor is there a hint of his favourite obsession, did he grow roses; was that his profession
Was his middle name Hallmark, or perhaps Interflora, or did he float ‘round with aphrodisiacal aura
He must have been clued up on marketing stuff, ‘cause in the third century, investment was tough
And his kinfolk caught on, and set up some stalls, with flowers and chocolates to hock to us all

So now every year we do spend lots of money, to buy things to give to our wannabe “honey”
Anonymous flowers, what’s the real point in that, if she thinks that they came from Dick Whittington’s cat
Abandon the games, forget the deceit, walk up to her now, throw yourself at her feet
Tell her ya love her, say it right from the heart; but if she says “where’s my flowers?”, that’s not a good start

Take her to dinner, buy her a drink, get a few in ya, tell her what you think
About her blue eyes and her figure and stuff, but keep it polite, til she’s had enough
And after you’ve dined, walk her back through the park, and stop in a place that’s comfortably dark
Do whatever it is you share in your minds, but please do be careful, don't leave your manners behind

But it’s hard to keep going, on Valentine’s Day, when you look in her eyes, and she just looks away
Lucky you didn't waste money on Lindt, with your success rate, you’d quickly be skint
Give it a miss, try the footy, a dance; don't give up this day for that thing called romance
There’s three hundred and fifty more days in the year, so on February 14, of women steer clear

Thursday, 13 February 2014

February 13: Never, ever, give in


My brow it is furrowed, my eyes they are narrowed, my breathing it’s shallow and slight
I’m wondering why I’m unable to cry, but I’m clenching my fists for a fight
My specialist claims there’s a lump on my brain, that will take me in a such short time
But he cannot be right, and I refuse not to fight, there’s not a mountain for you I won’t climb

I try hard to be tough, I am made of stern stuff, I will not give up my life in this way
I do not want pity cause I do not look pretty, as I wrinkle and start to decay
Nor will I despair, I am going nowhere, I’ll fight this disease and I’ll win
As Churchill once said, as he sipped on his red, “Never, ever, give in”

My days they drag out, what is this about, I do not understand what it means
My shirts they are huge, just how much did I lose, there’s room here for two in my jeans
I will find a way, to beat or delay, this intrusion that threatens my being
I’ll get past this stage, and I will reach old age, I do not accept what I’m seeing

But my days become shorter, and I think that I ought to, lie down and have a short rest
I say that quite often, but my mood it does soften, I’m still putting this thing to the test
But it creeps up on me, ‘cause I still do not see, that the fight that I fought I have lost
My breathing is short, and one day I am caught, comparing the price of my pain to the cost

But I still try to fight, while it visits at night, I am weak, my defences are down
I lie here awake, the pain I can take, but my brow wears a permanent frown
And the force of the fight keeps me awake all the night, from my lips escapes a soft groan
But in the morning she wakes, and I know her heart breaks, 'cause I've left her, distraught and alone

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

February 12: On a sunny Sunday afteroon ...


Their belief it never wavered, their faith it never waned
Even when they must have known they’d never see him smile again
Their strength and perseverance was a privilege to observe
As life dealt them the cruelest hand, one they did not deserve
For eight hard years they never stopped, caring, looking, hoping
Each one a rock standing firm, when the other wasn’t coping
How hard it is, to lose a child, before they’ve had a chance
To live, to love, to be a man, life gone in just a glance

A fine young boy went Christmas shopping, to buy his mum a gift
When a demon crossed his naïve path, and offered him a lift
But he would not go, his father said, with a stranger without a fight
So we here are left to wonder, how young Daniel met his plight
How could he just have disappeared, out on that busy road
On a sunny Sunday afternoon, as the traffic past it flowed
Didn’t anyone see anything, a struggle, a dispute
A sandy haired boy fighting hard, with a monster in pursuit

Nothing heard for so long a time, the years slipped quickly past
For most of us, but not for them, every year worst than the last
A tip, a link, the police tried hard, and followed every lead
Experience, it told them, don’t give up, you will succeed
A breakthrough? No, a false alarm, high hopes are dashed again
For how long could the all go on, keep up their tough campaign
Daniel’s father Bruce he warned, “We will not give up on him”
“We know you’re out there somewhere, we’ll find you and bring you in”

The would-be gangster told a tale, of a crime that has no equal
He acted out every sinister fact, not knowing of the sequel
Where he would play the staring role, in a true-life courtroom drama
But soon he came to realise, true life invites true karma
He’s now on trial charged with murder, with felonious intent
A lifetime in a small dark place, his lies cannot prevent
They say that closure is but just a word, but for Bruce and for Denise
And for their entire family, if not closure, let’s hope that they find peace

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

February 11: Cheque book wars ...


The chequebooks are out, the war has commenced, over on Seven Kochie’s incensed
“It’s a total disgrace”, he told us today, “My very own station, two million they’ll pay”,
“To a drug running bimbo, I really don’t follow, really and truly, it’s too much to swallow”
But they’ve dusted off Mike, he’s holed up next door, and not for much longer will the Corby’s be poor

The “Boogie Board Bimbo” is back in the news, at a six star resort she’s hitting the booze
Woman’s Day paid a bundle for a snap with a beer, to go on the cover of their mag over here
A day in a spa to consider her life, after four kilos of weed got her nine years of strife
A convicted drug smuggler, let out on parole, at least she won’t need to go back on the dole

But back here in Sydney, Gittany got plenty, and unless he comes clean, he’ll be in there for twenty
But girlfriend Rachelle was not to be seen, she grabbed Seven’s cheque and fled from the scene
Maybe she woke with a new revelation, and quickly departed for a lengthy vacation
When we saw her on tele on Sunday night, most of us thought, “She just isn’t right”

So I sit here and wonder as I type out these lines, just how many get paid at the end of their crimes?
Financial gain from crime has been banned, but it don’t seem to work, it’s supply and demand
The papers will pay ‘cause we puppets will read it, the stations pay heaps ‘cause their revenue needs it
So please put my money in an account overseas; I’ll just change my name and become Balinese

Monday, 10 February 2014

February 10: Where fate calls


A Daring class destroyer, built in New South Wales
She saw just seven summers, now we remember her in tales
Tales of courage, tales of loss, of bravery and fright
Heroism and horror, borne from that dreadful night
A mighty crash at five to nine, the sound of steel on steel
A deafening collision, as the Voyager she reeled
Her port side crushed and mangled, her bridge took all the force
Sliced apart in seconds, as Melbourne held her course

Her bow went down in moments, time it seemed to stop
Her bridge and then her foc’sle, a six hundred fathom drop
Those left they did not panic, as their ship was doomed for death
They manned the boats, began to search, for the survivors who were left
Within the messdecks heroes toiled, to get others out alive
They prayed, sang hymns and selflessly, died so others would survive
Eighty-two men were lost that night, in the greatest loss in peace
Many hundreds more they suffered, as the details were released

Blame was tossed from ship to ship, which Captain was to blame? 
But just one Captain had survived; would they damn his name?
A Royal Commission sought the truth, witnesses were heard
The press gave their opinion, the public hung on every word
Accusations of negligence, of drunkenness, of failures
But each Captain was a hero, respected by his sailors
Robertson he left the sea, the fault was his they said
But he would not speak out against his friend; he would not blame the dead

Five decades now have passed us by, since those ships became entwined
In peacetime’s worst disaster, of a military kind
We remember them those who were lost, on February 10
And we count the cost of losing them; husbands, sons and friends
Good men lost into the sea, on a training exercise
Some say it was not worth it, the sheer futility despised
The sea she is a mistress, dark, cruel and unforgiving
But we remember them, those eighty two, as we here go on living

Sunday, 9 February 2014

February 9: The heat is getting to me ...


It was 42 out side today, our car it melted, and drained away
When I saw that happen what could I say, so I went and had a beer
Our air-con's working overtime, I goes on in the morning and off at nine
My electric bills have gone sky-high, but at least it keeps me cool

Our garden screams out "H2O", and where did all the flowers go?
Where there once was green now brown does show, next year I'll plant some more
The chooks are taking cooking courses, herbs and spices from secret sources
The heat it must have mystic forces, I wander to the fridge

My motorbike ride I did abort, 'cause my water pump is down a quart
The burning sun I should report, but I'm welded to my chair
I turn the tap on and burn my hands, I really do not understand
How cold it gets in Iceland, but I wish that I was there

It's half past five and the sky is burning, from pink to red my skin is turning
For another beer, I am yearning, oh yes, here comes one now
I wonder when the sun goes down, what will happen in this town
Will everyone just all sit down, and get welded to their chair

I've got to cook the steaks tonight, I look outside, it's just so bright
Why don't we just have Vegemite, no need to barbeque
When the sun it sets I'll go outside, but from the sun my skin I'll hide
On go the steaks then I'll run inside, to get another beer

I'm opening my sixtyfourteenth beer, I know exactly what's happening here
My barmaid's getting in my ear, she says I've had enough
Drinking in the sun is cool, you have foursixteen, you think you're full
But the sun it tricks you like a fool, you're in a world of hurt

I'm smelling smoke, no it's okay, the barbeque is miles away
The steaks are on fire but I'm okay, it's pizza then, alright?
It's nine o'clock and it's still an oven, I'm starting to feel just a little bit sloven
But I don't care 'cause I'm having another'un, just one more little drink

The fire's out, but so am I, the fridge is bare, I begin to cry
The ice-cream man's just driven by, I really need a drink
I open the cupboard, I am saved, a bottle of JD keeps me enslaved
It will do but it's beer I craved; who cares, the night is young

The sun is gone, oh joy of joys, hey, what is all that background noise?
Across the road, the girls and boys, are playing cricket in the street
I should go across and get involved, all my problems could be solved
All my inhibitions are disolved, by a slab of Coopers green

I got the bat and had a swing, I cracked it like you've never seen
Across the road and through the swing, and crash, through my front door
I wandered home, six and out; that was quick, I'll do without
Another Jack, it's not my shout, I really should retire

I'm searching for a line to end, this stupid rhyme so I can send
It to the web, to all my friends, so you can have a laugh
But on it goes, no quick conclusion, by now you're wondering, in confusion
What is this crap, is it an illusion? How would I know, I am hammered