No Dress Rehearsal

Who would shun the chances that life offers,

Negate potential gain because of fears?

Who dismisses what each chalice proffers

But begs with thirst and cries for wasted years?

Why would any soul still fond of living

Draw blinds when sunbeams herald daybreak’s gift,

Huddle down in darkness, scared of shining,

Allow all fleeting moments then to drift?

A sullied sort of existential ruin

That wishes for and prays then barters grief,

Wails their woeful howls at waning moon, with

Persistent yet but absent self-belief.

‘No dress rehearsal’ – words fit to ponder.

Gratitude and action make for wonder.

So Odd…So Real

I dreamt anger last night,

woke late to the strangest feeling,

one I can’t recollect dreaming before.

Perhaps I have but don’t recall.

I’ve dreamt so many allsorts, remembered and not.

But to wake in anger,

disoriented, wondering why I felt so peculiar, was odd,


seeing the pictures flood back as spoon filled coffee cup,

pausing as steam turned its contents black,

visions in the molten awakener, of

one person attempting to bully

a whole crowd of grown-ups,

young and old but all compromised by power,

held hostage to her whims,

immobilised by fear.

I snapped several times, went against the pack,

refused to cooperate with petty injustice,

got right in her face and snarled,

‘They all hate you, you know.

It doesn’t have to be this way.’

She turned slit eyes on me, red and fierce

and spat, ‘ I despise you all’.

My parting shots,

witnessed askance by all, became

full of heat and promises 

of just retribution.

She mouthed, ‘I’ll lie.’

I knew she would.

Orpheus And Our Underworld

Now I could just post this poem and say nowt. I could. But I won’t. I’m on the letter ‘O’ in my self-imposed challenge to work through myths and legends by the alphabet. And I thought ‘O’ would be a doddle. Orpheus tries to rescue lover from the underworld. Fails. A breeze.

But I didn’t count on t’internet. And me. And other bloggers. And being on holiday.

Therefore, more time on my hands than usual, time to read blogs, politics raises its demonic head, read, comment, read, let’s write the poem, research, read, link, read, wtf!, read some more, link. You know what I mean. A blogger’s journey. Sort of typical.

So, this is now a mishmash of mythology, politics, spirituality and a bit of quantum theory thrown in for good measure. Oh aye, and music too. Well, he was a terrific musician according to lore. And music’s the bees’ knees when it comes to muse. And lulling us all into a false sense of security. Or possibly an awakening. See what I mean? Very convoluted in connotations. And I’ve only had coffee all day so it is what it is.


Blessed and cursed in timely measure,

Divided from the one,

Into Hades, sought his treasure,

Promises undone.

Forsworn to love, deprived of her,

Abandoned at the gate,

Bereft belief, faith destroyed,

New mysteries promulgate.

One who outsung sirens,

Enabled Jason’s might,

In muse and music invoked man

To lesser, greater rites.

Are we still lulled by Orphean lyre

While devils dance our fate?

   Compelled by those whom power sires

While they, ourselves, berate.


If you get the chance, you might want to check out some of the reasons behind this version of the poem. As I said, a blogger’s wonderland out there.

And a comment from Mark, on one of my posts, that was timely.

I’m just…thinking…(now that could be dangerous 🙂 ). There has been a little uproar over the last few weeks with a pile (and I say that with tongue in cheek) of politicians getting roasted by our ICAC (Independant Commision Against Corruption). So far, ICAC 6 (and possibly more) – Politicians 0. And just to show how deep it goes, our very own Barry O’farrell, Premier of NSW resigned this morning because he had his fingers in the till…with more to come.
I’m like a kid at a puppet show, the stupidity’s plus the ego’s are unbelievable. Every second word out of their mouth is ‘I can’t remember’. If it wasn’t so incredible I’d laugh. As it is, I’m so disgusted I can’t even cry.
I think I might go steal something and just tell the police ‘I can’t remember’. And the atrocity of it all. they’ll just walk away with the odd resignation. If it was you or I, we’d be in jail for a very long time.
Sorry, starting to blow my bugle 🙂
Was just thinking of stirring the pot with a website, to get an honest opinion from the public and just see how many people are sick and tired of this deceit, lies and thumbing their noses at us ‘the people’ that are forced to vote for this stupidity every 4 years. It’s like…here, use your Democratic right to be sh*t on or pee’d on from a great height. Oh, I’m so excited, which way should I go!
Right, that’s enough, time to go and sleep on it…maybe something will come up from spirit in my sleep 🙂





Following the rules. But…..

Steve has added a new rule to his instructions. 😦 Number 4 says, ‘No Cheating’.

Well, he must have been reading my mind because I so wanted to be able to include a song I’ve been listening to all week in my car going to and from work. But it never came up on the shuffle mix. Possibly because it’s not on my I-pod. This song is on one of the mixed CDs my sixteen year old daughter makes up. And I’ve played it till the blood was streaming. I do that. A lot. Play it loud!

Don’t you just want to dance to it? Quite awkward when you’re driving. But possible. Fact.


On to the honest mix. 🙂

Where have you come from? is the first of the three questions before hitting play on shuffle mode.

Are You Gonna Be My Girl,   Jet

Ummm. Like this but not saying much to me at all at all. Except, maybe…..different sort of dancing here? Head banging as  I listen. Shoulders going. Hips having a good time. 🙂

Where are you at? 2nd question

Audience and Audio, Twin Atlantic

Loving the accent on this. Recognise it? And the rhythm and beat. Yup, another dancey of the , ‘I’ve got a sore head’ variety.

And, ‘Why don’t we?’, come to think about it.

3rd question. Where are you going? Feck, as if I know! Does anyone? Seriously?

A Little Less Conversation, Elvis Presley

Well, what seems to be apparent is that I quite like rock. In all its various stages. Knew that anyway.

But, other common factors here? Em, maybe, act. Don’t just keep talking. But, if you’re gonna talk make it worth listening to. Maybe? Either that or just dance. That’s always a good alternative to other types of inaction.

Happy Friday! Have a smasher of a weekend. And remember to dance. Very liberating. If you’re reading this Jen, just do it.

Especially to the first one. Irresistible I’ve found. All week.

Here, I might have a look at what I actually do listen to each week. See if that gauges how I’ve been feeling. Um, have to think about that one.

Addendum:- If I’m being perfectly honest. (Fuck! Why can’t I just lie and shut up?) All of these posts were political and social to me. At least in the lyrics. Why the hell don’t we speak up and act instead of talking about ourselves? We are the foxes and the hounds are on the run.

But I refuse to ‘do’ politics on a Friday night.

Add-addendum. (I know it’s not a word!)  Thoroughly enjoy this, Steve, I’ve come to find. Like a wee reflection on my week. Almost psychically. 😉 In all honesty, I’ve been strutting my stuff and having a good time in and out of work with a bit of attitude thrown in for good measure. So that might account for the rock. Ya think?




A Feeling

There’s a movement afoot,

Can you feel it?

A dawning, a heavenly herald,

A belief in the brotherhood

Of humanity.

It’s sweeping right over the world.


There’s an aura of great expectation,

Of light

To pour from above,

Like drowning

In oceans of wonder,

Suffused with unending love.


There’s a knowledge that’s

Patently pending,

Already it’s making its way

From nation to nation,

Through calm contemplation,

Simple souls inspired, come what may.


There’s a phoenix that’s forming

From ashes,

His wings are ready to fly,

Head raised aloft,

His tone one so soft

Recurring death his reason for why


There’s a waiting in anticipation,

Vast wings

To envelop and keep

All souls together,

To tackle whatever,

Arousing our spirits from sleep.


There’s a beacon that’s shed

From great lighthouse

Protecting all fleets from the reefs

Station the braces,

Let wind fill the main sail,

Make ready to fulfil beliefs.