Long Goanna Poems
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All I hear is anti-everything!
Still unhealed from the wounds of my antagonist though.
All these knots in my stomach still can’t be untangled.
I remember, she said that she’s in love with Phil the Philanthropist.
Now all properly positioned arrows that I have ever shot are so well angled,
That they're directly piercing through the hearts of every 'antichrist without any antlers'.
All I see is anti-everything!
Still unknown by the world like a new antivirus or antitoxin,
A certain state of mind that dwells within the antisocial and anti-racist.
Similar to a poison that has no antiserum or anti-venom.
Its an antitypical practice of anti-magic creating an antithesis,
Of this RNA molecule undergoing transcription making antisense.
No different from using antiprotons and anti-neutrons to make antimatter.
Excuse my anticlimactic understanding of how anti-science is the key to antigravity.
All I know is anti-everything!
No antibiotics or antidepressants could ever help me now.
I’ve turned into an antigenic anti-hero, who lives an anti-life that ‘anti-matters’ to anyone.
Each antipsychotic I take hits the mind harder than a anti-aircraft.
Now I’m stuck in a conversation with anti-intellectual making this annoying anti-noise,
“Ingeniously”, speaking upon all the anti-choices made by the anti-abortionists.
Evaluating how our criminal antics are the product of our anti-apartheid era.
All that’s left is anti-everything!
There is no antidote only broken bones and exposed atriums.
Why do we keep making these anti-tanks, brought in by anti-traders for the anti-terrorists?
We’re just creating an anti-war and destroying anticivilizations that sing anti-anthems.
Without the people, whose goanna make these antiperspirants for the anti-feminist.
These wheels and turbines of the world are stuck in an anti-lock.
We are the substance which is added in petrol to inhibit pre-ignition like an anti-knock.
Don’t see it lady May….
Dark demon from the nether world,
From into-outer space was hurled,
And came by Dumbo jet,
He came to prey on lady May,
An older shiela, ninety say,
Who liked dem toy boys just a bit,
But lost her glasses in a fit,
While Counting her blessings hey,
Aint love grand? Ooray,
Devonshire had seen his like,
While poncing through the mist, all night,
A second son, down under come,
The bastard son of the prince of fun,
Got sent down-under, right? {australia}
That he was just a parasite,
Her head it entered, never might,
In passionate decay, sweet delight,
Procrastination day,
Would never come her way,
So Blinded by the light,
Ecstatically so blocked with blight,
Sweetie pie ON her parasite
Her prince she had to pay,
Tad grumpy sometimes may,
2 Some poetry recite,
Sir Rhupert of the browning twist,
Bad Poetry, he sort-of missed,
But he was a tad ok,
FOR A POMMY BERK, I say, {prisoner of mother england}
An never past, dis-may,
Dem pommys talk this way,
The point I’ve poorly mist?
As for the pontificating fits,
Rabbiting on, subtle mindless gits,
Galahs and sand-goanna nongs,
In Japanese phallic ding ding thongs,
Who had the mango ****ttts, {manure}
Playing chess for sanity say?
Be careful boy you’ll slippp,
Will madness win the day,
And tremors start to hit,
Ok,
The parasite spoke up with scorn,
Like royalty I’m so high born,
Bow down to me sweet little worm,
Us Parasites hold sway,
And so I seemed to say?
“Begone thou foulest dip-stick twit,
The misel-toe does shon-kily sit, {con man part}
On a healthy tree today “ :}
But do we really have to pay?
4 Attention’s, draught a bit? :}
Don
a ponce was a pimp for the ladies of the night ,
and if you were poncing about like a pimp it was orright,
suspected pimps were poncy too right
to get my poncifocation trite...
--
Of all the flamin’ rotten luck I said alighting from me van;
kicked the wheel holding the flat to upset our touring plan.
We’re miles away from anywhere as I rummage through our gear,
for underneath our chock full load the spare is hidden here.
Then horror of all horrors, I cursed and swore then spat,
I’d forgot to check the spare and that too is flamin’ flat,
So we’ve ‘gotta’ wait for someone (which isn't often on this road).
Two hours we boiled in the sun before its back to travelling mode.
Another problem surfaced then for as the sun did set;
having no idea where we were and not accommodated yet.
In our headlights there's a change of luck - ‘B & B’s’ a welcome sight.
Me and the missus drove in hoping there’s room here tonight.
The old farmer with his torchlight walked us down the back.
With the beam he pointed toward a dirty run down shack.
The doorway’s full of cobwebs; windows were broken too.
He chased out a big goanna saying "Now it should be fit for you".
"Where's the toilet?” Asked the missus - “I usually visit through the night."
"I never thought of that” he said. “I'll make sure that you’re right".
He came back with a bucket, and said, "If you want privacy,
you will have to take the bucket behind the pepper tree".
Next morning just on sunrise the farmer knocks and says
"Hope I didn't wake you up - would you like bacon and eggs?”
"Yes please" we said together. “Can we have some coffee too?”
"Do you both take milk?" The farmer asked. We both replied "Thank-you".
As we packed up across he came to pick up our dirty plates.
I told him that his breakfast was one that highly rates.
"Your coffee's great" the missus said "You and your wife should take a bow".
"Why thanks” the farmer said. “Now where’s the bucket - I've ‘gotta’ milk the
cow".
A phone call was all that’s needed and the message it was clear;
“Get your bum away from home and bring your family here.
And don’t forget your fishing rods; the bream are on the bite.
I know you’re off this weekend so be here tomorrow night”.
All we had to do was turn up so the weekend’s organized.
Us men will fish on Saturday while the women get familiarized.
Sunday’s to be at Lake Tyers; we’re fishing in the ‘Trident Arm’,
and everything had gone to plan - fish were biting like a charm -
- When there isn’t any toilets one must find a comfort tree.
And it’s much harder for a lady; Cheryl was first to see
the dangers of the bush when the call of nature’s needed.
But she found a way to hold on when her need was superseded.
For where our cars were parked many more had parked before
and fed the wild goannas, and so now they’re wild no more.
Then Cheryl ‘came the lucky one to discover in her need,
three hungry tame goannas met her in a gauntlet wanting feed.
When time was ready for departure, the rest of us got to see,
the goannas who were still about and waiting patiently.
But they didn’t care for sausages no matter how we tried to goad.
One preferred the rubbish bin; the others strolled off up the road.
On our way home with our catch, of snapper, flatties and some bream,
we stopped at Burnt Bridge where others fished, but their catches here were slim,
I waited in my car that was parked close to where undergrowth was dense,
and watched some movement in bauri; for a time it seemed no sense.
Then six foot of reptile slid with ease and hid underneath my car.
I looked downward out my window then its head stuck out so far.
This goanna waddled to the road and crossed the bridge without a care.
Cars had to wait on either side, and it bothered no one there.
On my first trip to the outback across the endless plains,
I saw a harsh and hungry land in pastel coloured stains.
There are more secrets out there, than sun and shifting sand -
It would take more than my lifetime to ever understand.
I saw Eagles, Wrens and Butcherbirds; Kangaroo and Emu,
blending with the Saltbush, in Mallee scrub and Heathland too.
Choughs flock along the roadside. Bearded Dragons soak up sun;
a King Brown sweeps with lightning speed; a Goanna on the run.
A sight to behold my thirsty eyes; a lake filled blue and wide,
big as any ocean I have seen. I could not see the other side,
Wildflowers bloom with coloured heads; purple, red and blue.
The Eremophila and Cassia display, a dull but greyish hue.
Black dots littered 'cross the surface in their thousands do amaze.
Ducks, Pelicans, Swans and Coots - further than the shimmering haze.
Long legged Stints with sticky beaks tread sand along the shore.
Swallows skimmed the water - what fish surfaced I'm not sure.
To stand alone amid this beauty, surely, too few of us will see.
Below the skies unending azure blue - vastness runs away from me.
I get the chance to have reflection now 'bout hardships in my hand,
but troubles in my life seem small when casting eyes across this land.
Once I left the sandy shoreline, this reflection stayed a while
etching past the endless Saltbush, which grows mile after mile.
And the dry and dusty plains return where water’s hard to find -
I yearn for comforts of my home - yet crave the views I left behind.
My heart has been torn..My mind assulted; Yet the dust it
Is settling, red dirt; black earth; almost grey bulldust.' I am
In my dreaming.' Deep yet alert.' I'm singing in tune, to the
Creak of existence's ancient harmony; Kukaburra calls out
The Goanna slithers, and I hear and see.' I see 1914 1918
The ANZACS pushed back, no more retreats;
Villers Bretonnaux.! I hear old
Morehead at Tobruck.))) No retreat he stressed though we
Die where we stand! This, the former headteacher Would teach rommel.! About defeat, and 'claus schwab?'
And old gorged psoriasis.' They remember.. Well they knew !
Axis powers defeated, by a strong
Army full of ingenuity ' i see migrant boat waves, coming in
Yet they got stopped.! The W E F did not like that one bit.'
A country that saw to its own best interests first.? And
Africa oxymoronically.) is next on the list.' This to them
Was insufferable.! Fast forward to the planned-demic
2019 covid 19.? W H O.' got real sick in 2019..? The door was
Going to open on egregious; sadistic; house arrest; they
Wanted to make an example, to humanity.' Here are the
Famous independant Aussies.' Melbourne forced into a
Stagnational state.' This is what happened to you Australia.'
You were to be broken.' Because of your independant spirit
And the distance that supported you.' a special effort was made'
For you might become contagious? and inspiring; to the whole
World.' WAKE UP AUSTRALIA..' Stand and defend.!
..DINGO..
Out in the west the wild Brumbies still roam,
there you`ll find red Dingo the sheep killer dog.
Dog netting fences are there to keep the sheep home,
Roo holes let him through like a Frog.
Wild Pigs burrow under this fence,
and leave another hole.
The cunning dog looks for them with good sense,
to find a way in is his goal.
So then he`s in amongst the Sheep ,
to weed a killer out.
More than one will go to deathly sleep,
I have no cause to doubt.
With dead Sheep laying all about,
he`ll eat his fill, old Dingo.
The Fox will watch until he`s gone,
he`ll starve the Crows by jingo.
Well daylight comes and the crows arrive,
will they pick these bones so bare.
Old man goanna eats away inside.
Yes the crows do tear their hair.
A few days do pass, now his stomach it is empty.
The dog returns to the easy sport,
of sheep there sure are plenty.
The worms do bite to feed the thought,
he`ll kill just two not twenty.
The doggers rifle shot rings out,
old red he staggers plenty.
He stopped to smell piddle fresh about,
shot dead by a 25. 20.
Old Johnson the dogger had set his traps,
on the dingo`s route he knew.
Dog piss he dripped right across his tracks,
to a dog trap cruel but true.
He sometimes used a shotgun trap,
made of water pipe with care.
The shell got fired by a 2 inch nail,
trip wired this deadly snare.
by D H JOHNSON
How Dingo trappers operated till about 1960
The black
crow sat on the
stump out front,
The old man heartily
swore,
He said you aint a
cunny funt,
Followed by the 12
guage roar,
Feathers flew and a
cold wind it blew,
And the cancer bit
some more,
Just a spit of
blood, not quite a
flood,
Cos death was
coming, sure,
Joe crow was arking
out the front,
And muttering soft,
caw, caw,
Aussie crows love
eyes you know,
An the bludger
wanted more,
The old man
staggered out the
front,
And threw a brick at
Joe,
And down he went the
cunny funt,
Flapped off the so n
so,
A pain intense did
commence,
In the yard he had a
fall,
Black birds a
circling stump and
fence,
The old man tasted
gall,
On coming round on
his chest he found,
Joe crow was
perching for,
His eyes to take,
make no mistake,
Black crow was set
to score,
Backhanded Joe way
cross the yard,
The old man said to
him,
Don't put my lights
out yet retard,
Till me lights are
low n dim,
Watch the reapers
black one on the
stump,
If he comes on by to
call,
Probably caw n ark
in his defence,
No ole Joe crow he
isnt dense,
Just loves a sweet
eyeball.
Don Johnson
I you are down and can't get up in the Aussie outback man,
Joe crow will circle want a snack, fore the the Dingoes an Goanna can....
Bogged animals lose their eyes to Joe when they get to weak to resist.
Old Ewes with new Lambs have Joe landing on then picking their Kidneys out too,
The weak must pay the black bird says, don't let it happen to you?
Tell me what you guys think about this, I want to use it as my talent show try out piece
I know it's difficult
for you
to look at me as
a person you once knew
My mind is
not around and this is something that your fear
but please listen to me
my body is still here
The thing we
once shared
I fear I forgot
but I do remember
a little and a lot
I will not behave or act
like I was
this is a disease
I have no control of
I'm sorry for the
burdens I put upon you
you'll be crying and feeling
feelings of blue
I then see
how I make you feel
but I don't know why
it's such a big deal
I fuss I hurt,
I feel all the pain
of some of which
I truly gain
My life was a journey
I disguise
a life of love
which many surprise
I feel all your love
and warmth in my heart
I'm always with you
far and apart
don't worry
my loving family
I'll remember
one day hopefully
I'll be leaving soon
enough
for any on like
you
it's goanna be tough
I don't want
to say goodbye
even though
I'll carry through
the next life
thank for everything
you've done
the light that
came and shun
I'll love you
all forever
My time is up
being with
y'all was a
pleasure.
Smell of fresh horse dung on the breeze,
Not far away, just north of here,
Keep walking on the rocky ground ,
No panic, yet no fear,
Palm island Prison, I escaped,
Swam ashore, I nearly died,
Saw the fins of noahs arks, (sharks)
Dog paddling, still so tired,
Black tracker follows me,
I see him in my mind,
Jacky sticks like glue, does he,
My tracks are pretty hard to find,
The Traps they come, at walking pace,
Tracker picks the way,
Up or down the river ,
Might cost em half a day,
Eat a few mussel clams,
found under the waters edge,
just a creeping through the water,
doubled back under a ledge,
Traps they hurry away to the west ,
follow them, I might find,
And now I’m tracking Jacky ,
I think the buggers blind,
So the Traps get tired of looking,
My track just can’t be found,
So they return to the coast,
say they think I’m drowned,
So I walked inland four hundred miles,
Went home to live in the bush,
Lived off the land, Goanna and Sheep,
In the land of the wait awhile.
lovely Crayfish that I keep,
In my home land I do sleep,
me Boomerang goes woosh,
no need for me to bloody rush,
wild duck will have me fed.
Don Johnson
Dedicated to Bill Hopkins who did just that....know as hoppy...