An abecedarian Australian animal activist
Bagged bodacious big bucks
Caustically criticizing crocodiles,
Driving darling dragons
Essentially extinct. Eschewing
Fact, fabricating fanciful fiction,
Grifting gloriously,
He haughtily held hostage
Important, instructive information,
Juxtaposed jaundiced, junk
Kangaroo kills,
Leveling large lizard libel,
Manufacturing marsupial misinformation malevolently.
On other ominous occasions,
Preferring pernicious propaganda,
Quickly, querulously, quashed
Real, rational reports, rather,
Substituted several substantially
Tarnished technical travesties,
Undermining unified understanding.
Very vociferously, viciously
Wrote works without warrant,
Xenophobic xenotypic
yarns, yammering yellow-bellied yawps,
Zombie-like, zealously.
my latest anti CCP turtle poem--
CCP Turtles Grassing Line
China’s virtual hotline
Report online remarks
Slander Communist Party history
Crack down “bygone nihilists”
Party’s 100th centenary July
Grass line allows society report
Netizens “twist” Party’s history
Attack governance policies
Denigrate national heroes
Deny superiority radical socialist nation
Clandestine motivations old nihilistic parodies
Malevolently garbling
Denigrating contradicting Party history
Internet operatives administering people
Devotedly report dangerous info
“Historical nothingness” public doubt distrust
Chinese Communist Party’s earlier dealings
China’s net forcefully censored
Overseas social media networks
Search engines news outlets forbidden
Penances persons conveyed
Netizens prison lawful punishments
Placement content acute
Nation’s leadership procedures antiquity
Legal amendments folks
“Slur smear invade on” memorial
China’s national heroes’ martyrs
Face three years gaol
SYLVIA WAS AN ‘A’ STUDENT
and Alpha woman
The Abyss was bared, and malevolently yawning,
The deep black pit of endless loss to rile
You, and you didn’t know the world was turning;
And you saw the winter trees in mourning
You weren’t short-changed on their willing lack of guile
In the Apollonian myth - your soul was burning.
Telling time too true, that spring was coming,
But you let the yellow sorrow of your bile
Flood the Arcadian dark your soul was scorning-
So, you died, without ever learning
That your Attic grace would give time its shining dial,
You did not know it then, but the world was turning,
The aureole of dawn crept in, to us a warning
We only have our children for a while
The Austrian angst in which your soul was burning,
The sense of happiness missing you by a mile –
In our Aphasian gloom, your words are burning
Up rivers, mountains, roads, with a killing style –
You didn’t know it then, but the world was yearning.
FROM IN MEMORY OF HER 2004, 2008
The Last Sunday of October.
Vilamoura marina on a glorious October day, tourists gone home
leaving the promenade for us elderly to walk sedately along it.
I saw an ancient lady walking forcefully, using a Zimmer frame,
It looked like she was trying to set a new personal record, and
we gave her space. We saw a once famous footballer, sad really
you see them running around a big green field and the next day
they are dated and forty. In case you ask, it wasn’t Beckham.
Many yachts tied up and their owners are allowed to drive their
cars on the promenade, my old socialist heart was ready to revolt.
Cafes were open and served food for us old at reduced price; still
too expensive, it was as idle waiters were eyeing us malevolently.
The Zimmer lady returned I think she had beaten her old record.
Then it was late afternoon and the sea breeze cooled our ardour;
time to go home and drink our cacao.
.
On the cyber-stallion
of military might,
against the backdrop
of missiles, a fearsome sight,
Commander-in-Chief,
malevolently looming,
stares at charred corpses,
then gazes around, smirking.
There, the wounded crawl and drag
their dead through debris;
yonder, ashes of home
and heart, maimed memory.
The old, the children,
they may be blasted away
as burnt offerings
on the altar of peace, he'd say.
Hark the chanting of his
lackeys, dogs and toadies:
"Hail, the Commander-in-Chief,
brave champion of peace!"
That lion lionized by those
with envy and fear,
wish he were this drunk
lizard drowning in my beer !
.
Against the seething horizon
you stand malevolently
looming,
gloating over the tragic fate
of the vanquished,
the doomed now dying;
there, the wounded many,
they crawl, drag cold corpses
through bloodied debris;
smoky embers, ashes of home,
shards of shattered hearts,
maimed memory;
the old, the ill, the children,
if you say so, will be
blasted away
as nothing more than burnt
offerings on the charred altar
of peace, you'd say!
I am woken again by its snores
And, unable to sleep
I creep
Down to the kitchen for tea and a ***
Try writing a letter, instead read a mag,
Dishes malevolently lurk by the sink
Plants need a drink
And washing, washing, washing.
Life in the country, two daughters, a son,
Housewife, the good life
Contentment not fun.
But the climate is changing, I'm no longer tired
As day breaks it dawns that
This worm can turn if required.
I run up the stairs three at a time
To wake my sleeping giant.
Astride his cyber-stallion of hi-tech military might,
against the backdrop of missile silos, he's a fearsome sight,
the Commander-in-Chief, so huge, malevolently looming,
smirking at seared carcasses, grinning and preening
as the wounded crawl and drag their corpses through debris,
embers and ashes of home and heart, maimed memory;
the old, the children, if he says so, must be blasted away,
as bloody burnt offerings on the altar of peace, he'd say.
"Hail, the Commander-in-Chief! brave champion of peace!"
nervously chant his lackeys, clowns, toadies and cronies;
a power-dazed lion lionized by those trembling with fear,
how I wish, he were this drunk lizard drowning in my beer!
Astride his cyber-stallion of awesome
hi-tech military might,
Against the backdrop of missile silos,
a fearsome sight,
The Commander-in-Chief, huge,
malevolently looming,
Smirks at the seared carcasses,
moves about, preening.
As the wounded crawl and drag
their corpses through debris,
Embers and ashes of home and
heart, maimed memory,
The old, the children, if he says
so, must be blasted away,
Mere bloody burnt offerings on
the altar of peace, he'd say.
"Hail, the Commander-in-Chief,
brave champion of peace!"
Nervously chant his lackeys,
goons, dogs and toadies,
A power-dazed lion so lionized
by the envious with fear,
How I wish he were this drunken
lizard drowning in my beer !
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