Now Tim is great, enthusiastic and in no way dim' he an Aussie asset, is our mate
Tim..He is full of good intention ya'know
I can feel it from here.' Mind he's often meeting with legends, reckon i should make that clear, wether it 'green lightening
tech'? Or innovations coming through from
The paddocks to the table.? Tim brings it
To you..Remember nation of battlers.' How
Far you have come, i believe any setback at
Home or external? You will overcome.' We
Do not need Brussels, but more men such as Tim..And the true Aussie spirit,to light up all the country from whithin
I think of those who left their home.' To fight on battlefields
Unknown.' In mud and blight against Gallipolis heights
At Beer Sheba and on Tobruks deadly plains.' Where they
Lay low; and let those tanks, roll over them front and flanks'
Then arose to put to shame.their foe' These Men
Of the the flats..Of wheatfields and cane.' From harbours
And citys made forever a name.' Reknown for igenuity for
Resilience wordwide.' Steadfast our bronzed battlers who
Took all in stride.' As the bugle notes ring out today in the
Dawn.' I remember.. I remember.' In gratitude mixed with awe.! So today as i face the struggles that come I shall
Draw strength, and inspiration at the rising of each sun.'
And it will remind me.' That whatever is to come? the
ANZAC spirit is my mentor, i vow to hold it to my memory all
My days on earth, until my final hours beneath the setting sun'
Your grace of healing tore the cores of the fault finders.
Your works that sprang from divine power, for them, were blinders.
They pulled in Beelzebub to defile your divine might.
Like battlers, the nerds of Banes never left a chance to fight.
In-fights ruin kingdoms, households, and metropolises.
Wars between beasts and humans bring in necropolises.
Finding fault with the strength of the Spirit is blasphemy.
Placing one's feeble faith on deadly deeds is anomie.
Ignorance, like yeast in the bread, had enlivened the thoughts.
In pride and prejudice, the Pharisees planned petty plots
Courteous acts of compassion, they thought, were knells of time.
As ones misleading mankind, in them, crime was in its prime.
No role the Satan has when the divine overpowers
You chased each evil out and brought on all serene showers.
I met a check-out chick the other day,
I asked how was her New Year's, okay,
She said she had a dreadful New Year's Day,
Her boyfriend battling bushfires with the CFA,
He had never been so far away,
What on earth could I say?
Our firies are like superheroes today,
Right there with superman, okay?
Would you give them a salary and lunch money? Hey,
They don't do it for money, okay?
Well, give them all a gold medal, I say,
When all these bushfires are gone one day,
Chats about our firies everywhere these days!
THE BATTLER
Looking at life as a twisted road,
with unknown holes waiting to explode,
and driving with pride, is a lonely ride.
Stress attacks like swarms of burning bees,
nerves of fireballs between pinball trees,
and no money to buy,not even a tear to cry
A battler bleeds from desperate needs,
with spiritual scars, a soldier of hope,
and tattooed memories surviving to cope.
Time in front, visions of a future in fear,
followed by the past,
throwing knives from the rear.
Good battling bad, behind life's battle shield.
Life upon this road is an endless battle field.
Reality seems surrounded by empty senselessness.
The battlers blood flow is belief,
trickling through a skin of grief.
A hero,
with will to share and care,
stay brave, battler, stay brave,
You will find glory,
in this Battler's story.
Red-breasted songsters.
Overt territorials.
Blatantly jealous.
In springtime true battlers.
Nest in cosy teapots.
Eggs beautiful blue.
Gardeners friend, eating bugs.
Gulpping down worms too.
Bursting with songs full of joy.
Lasting from dawn to past dusk.
Unselfish parents feeding young.
Exceptional gardeners friends!
Two weeds are sprouting
Reaching for the light of day
Sometimes, competing
The new Spring garden
Draws the gardener outside
The spade is in hand
The manicured ground
Prepared for this production
Opens up to all
Seedlings do rebel
They strive for their own places
The best spots to grow
Every one risking
The battle for their own lives
Straining upward now
The underground dance
Gyrating and pushing up
Wanting the applause
Life's metaphors blur
Are we battlers or dancers?
Every season tells
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