Truth is lived, not taught.

From a couple of weeks back, here is a view from Salamanca Place upon the mountain with a light dusting of snow. There is no snow at the moment, just clouds!

Here is a poem!

Night

why make a noise (a noise
no less than a very loud noise
now) so late on Friday
(although it is Saturday now)
shouting swearing
"FUCK!"
"NO!" "DARREN!"
"DARREN!"
cars tyres Darren so late
Friday is Saturday
one might think that (one

does think that now) "don't
you think?" - probably not -
"don't you think a neighbour
(a neighbour so close)
would know would think would
try?"
Perhaps we might share a
delicate grunt. a nod a wink.
me. me of all
people, I know such noise
such noise I have not heard
in a very long time.

Comments

smudgeon said…

I used to have similar nocturnal entertainments courtesy of our ex-neighbours. Ours would usually go:

1: "You are, ya farken cunt!"
2: "Ya wanna go?!"
1: "Farken get orf me!"
2: "Bitch! Bitch!"
1: "Farken get 'im orf me or I'll go 'im!"
2: squealing of tires...
1: "get me another bundy!"

Maybe not as poetic, but I thought I'd share...

15 May 2009 at 10:59

KL said…

Ah! a dreamy winter morning, perfect for sitting cosily in the warm kitchen with a cup of tea and something to read or write. Too bad that you have to go to work :-D.

15 May 2009 at 21:25

Sarah Lulu said…

I have stood right there ...lovely.

16 May 2009 at 17:13

Kris McCracken said…

Me, fiddle with the layout, and you have an excellent poem there.

We had two teenage girls living in a flat immediately beneath us for about two weeks some years ago, and one Saturday they had a fight than went for about six hours straight. Screeching, windows being smashed, stuff inside being thrown about, swearing that would make a warfie blush. We eventually called the coppers as night fell because it just wasn't going to stop. They took one girl away with them and we thought "finally, some quiet..."

We then were treated to eleven hours of The Red Hot Chilli Peppers finest power ballads, interspersed with the odd shriek of "SLUT!" "CUNT!" or "SCRAG!" as the one left behind was cleaning up.

Good times.

19 May 2009 at 12:06

Kris McCracken said…

KL, bloody work.

19 May 2009 at 12:06

Kris McCracken said…

Sarah, it is a nice spot.

19 May 2009 at 12:06

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

This will hurt me...

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