So please excuse the handwriting

Achtung! Wenn Sie auf diesen Zaun klettern, wirst du sterben. New Town Oval, New Town. February 2011.

Everywhere you go there is somebody ordering you about. STOP! WAIT! CAUTION! OBAY! DON’T! NO!

Never once do they say please. I’ve not seen a THANK YOU, WELL DONE or CONGRATULATIONS.

It’s not good enough.

It's Dark in Here, by Shel Silverstein

I am writing these poems
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear.
But this afternoon by the lion's cage
I'm afraid I got too near.
And I'm writing these lines
From inside a lion,
And it's rather dark in here.

Comments

Dina said…

Jawohl. Gut gesagt. You're right.

It's like I walk down the village street and every single electric pole has the sign in Hebrew and English: DANGER OF DEATH.

19 February 2011 at 18:16

Carola said…

Danke für die Übersetzung.
Thanks for the translation.

Signs are always interesting.

I found Australia is one of the countrys with the most signs. What do you think?

20 February 2011 at 08:21

Kris McCracken said…

Dina, "DANGER OF DEATH". There is a nice simplicity to that...

Carola, I agree. Australian's like to think of theselves as relaxed and liberated, but my (brief) experience elsewhere tells me that we live in a heavily regulated society. The fact that I’m working on developing a strategic framework designed to deliberately shape and modify people’s behaviour towards alcohol, tobacco and other drugs pretty much confirms it.

21 February 2011 at 10:49

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

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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