Times Are Changing

Parrots chatter, squabble among the branches high sipping nectar from flowers, head foggy, wing won't fly. The Jacaranda tree stands tall flowers cover all branch space, purple flowers rain down on the ground they grace. Ropes dangle from a branch the seat wood, my bum aches, cat sleeps in pram, doll forgotten, nail needles will never break. Sun spirals, shadows waltz, smoke rises, dinner cooks, trains rumble, whistles echo, roosters crow, wakes the chooks. Thought Number 2 Flowers squashed lay on ground smoke steals. Jacaranda tree sways parrots squabble drunk. Swing deserted rope frayed moved on. Doll forgotten cat sleeps needles click. Shade patterns change rays spiral down energy flows. Fire roars stakes sizzle stomach grumbles. Smoke bellows skyward whistle echoes engine chugs by. Cows call udders full milking time. Bang, bang, I'm awak...

Simmering rays of sun crept over the horizon, energy danced across the still water at rest in the early morning, springbok dainty glided toward the brown water thirst to quench, alert to danger hidden in the sparse growth lions positioned ready to pounce, stomach growl in anticipation, eyes glazed, nostrils flared smell air scents ever watchful for prey whatever size, birds fluff plumage on bare skeletal branches leave once bountiful stripped for fodder, or die due to long boiling summers, ground thirsts after rain, dust raised by hooves storm clouds a distant memory, rain don't fall, water slowly seeped up by the bright, burning blood orange sun, skeletons of past lives lost litter the ground picked bare by scavengers lay forgotten, bones artfully left to decay to dust feathers magically float on thermal currents, hyena wait patiently for lion kill rhino thundering hooves beat a tempo, warning of their imminent advance smal...

The nasty Jacaranda has been looped. The tree had stood there for years. Flowered. Dropped the flowers to carpet the grass. Don't stand on the flowers at the wrong angle when wet. You'll end on your behind on the grass. With the coming of the flowers you have to deal with Hay Fever. Some people believe gastric comes at the same time as them. The growing on the leaves cause more mess. They fall. The Jacaranda looks beautiful when in bloom. But the place for them is out in the country where the root system has room to spread. To find moisture to grow. Town grown Jacaranda stretch the root system to reach the sewerage pipes. The roots clog them. Come to the surface to cause trouble in the lawn. Lifts the concrete. Cracks it. Men move in with chainsaws. Rain hinders their work. Every time a shower arrives engines are silenced. Birds no longer have a place to roost. No more squawking parrots. No more nectar of flower to make them drunk. Best...

My house was a tent. Roof. Walls. Wooden pallet floor. A wood stove for cooking stood in a corrugated recess at one end of the tent structure. The only good about living in the tent, was it was constructed on the top of a medium sized hill. We bathed in a tin tub on the floor near the wood stove when rain came. The rest of the time we showered out in the open. By Open. I mean corrugated iron nailed to wooden posts. Pallet floor. No roof. A shower bucket was hung from a sky hook bolted through a piece of hardwood. A rope was pulled for the water to fall. Every time rain fell the roads were blocked in all directions. The only way in, or our, was by rail motor. Providing the line wasn't washed out, or flooded. The only excitement at those times was to watch the rise, and fall, of the flood water. Watch how fa the back water spread out across the land. Other times, the sun shone but we were still flooded. Rain at the head of the creeks, and rivers, caught the water ...

The alley was damp, dark, smelled of rotten vegetables and fruit, rats scurried across the cobbled stones to search each pile of refuge scatted throughout the length and breath of the darkness, greedy eyes shone in the pitch caused by the tall buildings on either side. Scrawny cats crept in the squalid ground searching for more  appetizing  morsels of food, vegetables and fruit not on their menu, tonight the felines wanted fresh meat, no matter it was covered with foul smelling fur, their stomachs grumbled of the amount of rooting vegetables that had passed through over the past weeks. The advantage of a surprise attack was fast passing and the free meat ready to scamper to reach the rat holes before sun reached there whereabouts in the alley. With the sound of approaching footsteps, felines and rodents held their hidden positions, listened, watched and waited, to be the first to attack if the humans left a scrap of decent food for them to eat. A lot of grumblin...

Abuse, No matter what kind is dished out it is still abuse. The two I'm talking about is mental and physical abuse. Everyone has their own way of dealing with each case depending on how severe, and how long this has been going on. Do you notify the police of what has happened? Do you go to the doctor for treatment? Do you go to the hospital? Do you tell members of your family, or close  friends, of what you have lived with? Or do you just try to put this behind you, believe he, or she, won't do this to you yet again, after a promise has been made to never do this again. The other case is the doer of the abuse closes out what has been done, asks you what has happened. You stare in disbelief that someone can blot out the terror which you suffered. Terror that will not leave your life. A terror that keeps you waiting for the next time. Or do you take your family to a safe home where you are out of danger? Me, I didn't have too many options because I couldn't...

Coming Home Dark storm clouds rolled quickly across the sky, Strong wind blew leaves from tree branches, Thunder growled its fury as it followed clouds, To splinter the peace of the valley. Lightning streaked wildly lighting up the land, Rain begun to pelt down on horse and rider, As the rider rode fast on his once shiny stallion. The thunder of the horse's hooves blocked out, By the thunder which vibrated around them, Sending the horse flying with winged feet. They had hoped they would reach the end, Of their journey by the time the sun went down, But the sudden storm had blocked out the sun, Turning morning into dark of night. The horse reared at the crack like a gun shot, When the lightning struck a tree in the valley, Sending sparks flying through the air, Tree and dead grass ignited in a flash, Smoke and fire soon filled the air. Jake hung tightly to the reins with bot hands, Trying to stay in the saddle as the horse, Galloped ...

Macronic, Or Fun Story Roberto came over the hill to reach the rich vegetable garden in the Tubba valley. He knew Mister Kelly would have his order packed ready for him to take casa to his familla. In the area where Roberto lived, slim pickings were all that was available. But Mister Kelly was generous to those down on their luck. Surprise awaited Roberto when he reached the gate to the farm. A note, with his name on it, was nailed to the gate. “Sorry, Roberto. We no have any zanahoria for you today. No water for the garden. But you can take as many rabano as you want.” Roberto's nose twitched. The rabano didn't smell as delicious as his zanahoria. Beggars didn't have a choice to choose what they wanted. They took what was available. Roberto found a bag. He dug up the rabano with a small shovel, shook away most of the dirt before putting them in the bag. When he had over half a bag, Roberto headed for casa, he closed the gate behind him. Not copacetic. B...

Lilly Skye was having a bad day. She had driven in to town to visit her bank manager because she wanted a small loan to extend her herb garden. He had laughed in her face. The manager did not believe in giving women loans. Not for such an idea which would not make the bank much interest. He could see the adventure was bound to fail because she was a woman.  Didn't  have the stamina of a man to make the company grow. Or a man to help her with the project. “ You are a security risk,” the manager said. “There’s no way I am giving you money for such a crackpot idea.” Her temper raised beyond boiling point. Lilly stood up quickly sending the chair flying and headed for the door. She stopped at the door to stare daggers at the manager. “Your bitch will have kittens.” snarled Lilly, then slammed shut the door. During the afternoon the manager received a hysterical phone call from his wife. “I can’t believe it. My poor Betsy. She’s delivered a litter of kittens...

My name is blue, I sleep in the truck, The front seat is mine, So I wish you the best, If you try to steal my truck. The boss can drive my truck, He feeds me well, meat and bones, We travel every where together, But if you want a ride, I’m tell you, the front seat is mine. If you want a lift, I’m telling you, You have to hop on the back, Or left behind, doesn't worry me, I snuggle on the seat, enjoy the ride, Hang tight, ride the bumps, dodge the winch. Keep your mouth closed, eyes too, Turn back to front, Have eyes in the back of your head, If you want to stay the course, The boss won’t stop, collect you another day. You heed my warning, I’m tell you, If you want to travel in my truck, This is what you should do, Be nice to me, send me some meat, Post it to me, my name is Blue. I wrote this about a dog I owned, way back when.

The surface of the water Was as smooth as glass, Not a ripple to be seen. The smoothness broken, By wind or rain. No birds dare to swim Disturb the surface of the water. No animals approached, The deep water of the lagoon. Their life would be at risk, To quench their thirst there Which would be their last. Never to be seen again. Not a sound could be heard, On or around the lagoon. The Bunyip would raise His big hairy arm above the water To drag the unwary invader, Down the bottom to a watery grave. Trucks, boats, and cattle sank, Beneath the surface of the lagoon. No one dared to enter the water, To retrieve their possessions. Everyone was afraid of the big hairy arm. If they dared to disturb the Bunyip in his lagoon.

Seeing this toilet. I was reminded of all the toilets I'd used over the years. And the showers. This one was like those I had used. So I set to with pen, and paper, to jot down my thoughts. Past Living. I really didn't want to get out of the car. I'd been here previously. I didn't like being here. Cold shivers ran through me. I felt eyes watch me from the branches of the trees. Eyes burned into my back. Big trees grew on three sides of the house. Limbs hung over the roof. I was chilled to the bones. I didn't want to go inside. I'd prefer to sleep in the car. The car had windows. The house was built of corrugated iron on the outer walls. No lining. Windows were wood, not glass. The windows were pushed out to be propped open with a stick. Fresh air. Flies. Frogs. Snakes. All of them able to enter the house, at will. Through the open windows. Or crawl up the corrugates of the iron. ...

Frog Ray was born on a wet, stormy day with the creeks running to the top of the banks of all the rivers throughout the area. There was no way his father could make their way through to the hospital. No helicopters were allowed to fly in the inclement weather, all flights in the area were grounded. All the animals were searching for a dry place to hide. When Ray was born he was placed in the cradle beside his parents bed in easy reach for his mother to take care of him while everyone else was busy rescuing all the stock. From the moment he was born Ray didn't fit into the country scene. He didn't like the animals. Frogs were way down on his pet list. Many times he had been scared by them. As Ray grew the fear of frogs didn't leave him but he tried to keep the fact well hidden. He went away to boarding school in the city where there weren't too many frogs. When he had graduated from school, Ray decid...