Who says that books can't have babies
or be dead
Who says on another planet or airplane
that people aren't read instead
And the books might say,
"You can't read a person by its cover --
yellow, brown, white or red."
"Everything is possible
when the imagination is concerned.
All one has to do is look --
on the pages, the mind
the heart; right Fred?"
"Right Ned."
Bean bags are jumping on her head they said
I wondered what was going on, for it was Ned.
He is notoriously for saying things untrue.
He can make Granddaddy’s face turn red and blue
Whose head? I asked. Your head was the reply.
Now I knew it was nothing but a buzzard’s lie.
There is nothing jumping on my skull today.
So saying, I turned and flounced away.
Many people are upset because we've lost a talented actor named Ned.
He passed away on June the 13th and many are sad because he's dead.
He starred in "Superman", "Superman II" and "The Toy".
He gave performances that people were bound to enjoy.
He starred in such TV shows as "Highway To Heaven" and "Roseanne".
Millions of people appreciated Ned because he was a very talented man.
He also starred in "Gunsmoke", "Murder, She Wrote" and "Kojak".
It's very sad to know that he's dead and won't be coming back.
I enjoyed seeing him star in the first two Superman movies as Otis.
Ned died of natural causes at the age of 83 and he will be missed.
[Dedicated to Ned Beatty (1937-2021) who died on June 13, 2021]
When Ned came to the island with his dog
greeted by the men in bulging Speedos,
some he knew and many that he didn't
he saw the tip of an enormous iceberg
the submerged of which would quickly be revealed
men and women would die in agony and pain.
Ned wanted to rise and rail and shout
...urine on the steps up to the Capitol
never silent...always loud and angry
in counterpoint to their deafening silence.
And that accomplished his and their agenda
so that in these days the trigger has become
accepted, resigned to, complacent
as if everything has now been put aright.
The problem is that many still are suffering...
but now the kettle's taken off the boil.
And all that's left is us to brew the tea
.
© Richard A. Martin, Jr., MD, CPC, 2016
There is no God. I sigh. Yawn. Give a nod.
I don’t believe it anyway, he says. He is a clod.
He looks over his shoulder to the waterfall boulder.
How does he think he has thrived? Gotten older?
What about the stars, the moon, the Milky Way?
You have to admit they are here each and every day.
He tries to ignore nature, does his very best.
I point out twilight and daybreak and all of the rest.
I discover his mind is closed to all beauty around.
So I tiptoe off, barely making a sound.
He stops me in my tracks marveling at a huge spider web.
Recognizing nature’s prowess in this wonder. My cousin Ned.
My dad is bigger than yours she said.
It made me mad; I wished she was dead.
Took my anger to my Uncle Ned.
He started laughing, happy instead.
Most serious now, sick in my head,
Ran to my cousin, Goofball named Zed.
He chased me off, his face spitball of red.
With laughter shaking his feather bed.
I decided to sit in my little she-shed.
Devoured Ritz crackers ‘til I was fed.
Refused to talk to my Uncle Ted.
Who was spitting a story about Brother Ed.
I rode off on my purple and pink Moped.
Had an accident, needed bandage and a med.
The nurse who helped me was named Mrs. Ked.
Beautiful, she was a recent newlywed.
My dad is bigger than yours she said.
I was shocked for a second, but then I read
A book, settled down, no longer in my head.
Seeing the humor of Ed, Zed, Ned and Ted.
Ned had a very long nose
When he bent over it touched his toes
Ned looked a freak
People would shriek
Pleased they didn't have one of those
Ned Kelly
Ned Kelly, born 1854
Beveridge was my town
I wasn’t born with a crown.
Irish parents I have,
Dad, a transported convict
told me, when I was a lad.
Dad, with possession of meat,
Without explanation,
Was locked up because
Of legislation.
Six months later
Dad, died,
got on the drink
His liver, he fried.
I was only 12, the oldest boy
Helping my mum
I tried to enjoy.
Mixed up with the wrong crowd
Harry Power, he was loud.
Steve Hart,
was the counterpart.
Receiving a stolen horse
Got me convicted,
Yes of course.
Named an outlaw bushranger
All in town thought, I was a danger.
Mother imprisoned,
I started my gang,
It was on, I’m going out with a bang.
Had a proud moment.
Saved a boy from drowning,
Felt like a king, without the crowning.
Received a green sash for bravery,
the only moment I felt,
I wasn’t in slavery.
As much at home
on his horse
as in his swag
the wounded bushman
was the bushranger
Ned.
They'll never
box me in
laughing all the way
as shackles broke off
Ned Kelly
had never felt
so alive
there'll be others
game as Ned Kelly
to follow him.
We knew he had seen it all,
a willing participant in events
considered heroic sixty years past,
still lucid and clear, a history eagerly
to be read!
"Things were different then",
was how he began each answer,
and then his voice dropped
and faded as he realized the
hopelessness of words.
"Things were different then",
was all that he could muster
to explain a world
light years away.
His slight smile betrayed
that he feared to say much more.
The meanings all had changed.
He knew that what once was considered brave
was now looked on with disdain.
What had mattered once
had become irrelevant.
"Things were different then",
had become the best response.
Ned Kelly
A villain to some
A hero to most
He fought
He stole
And he killed
Stood up to the law
As he rode the outback
Robbing trains and banks
Helping the people as he went
Stories would be told for years
Myths would become legend
The legend would become history
Ned Kelly, the man who fought and won
The man who died doing what only he could do
He is a part of Australiana
Part of the country that created him
Made him a villain
Made him a hero
Made him a legend
Sneak, sneak, power, power.
My little carton of milk.
God protects him.
All over the Ned.
Sneak, Sneak, twizzle of eye.
Light light, almost on.
Light, light, candle option.
Of course, rubbber.
Coming close.
Ned catches you.
Ned Kelly, bush ranger.
An Australian bush ranger
Of Irish descent
He roamed through our ranges
With evil intent.
His name was Ned Kelly
He earned so much fame
Teaming up with his brothers
To rob was their game
He killed him, some policemen
There were three of them
And so repercussions
From this evil did stem
When one day there came
Knocking at his door
Some men of Authority
The arm of the law.
His life was cut short
They hung him one day
In old Melbourne town
His life slipped away
Now he is a legend
Most hold him on high
To me he was evil
And evil must die.
Vera Duggan 4 July 2014
Ned Kelly
DNA
Kelly DNA found
throughout the land,
and down around the
Dungle Bore,
Fred Layton had a
strand,
He had the Kelly
earmark, wore,
his descendants
Harpers, grand,
wore the Dan Kelly
type of ear-lobe,
that DNA had
planned,
If you look at Red
Kellys' brood,
they have the
lobeless ear,
distinctive breed &
trademark proved,
Don Johnson says
it's here,
Fred Layton he was
no wuss,
clean-skins they
needed branding,
the law of the bush,
a brand to push,
the T-Bones were
understanding,
100 Dan Kellys tried
to show,
that they were not
Red Herrings,
Alone Steve Hart,
Dungle Bore did go,
double cover in his
bearing,
bloody cunning
so-n-so:}
Traps they knew of
Steves' death too,
his cross in old
Calcutta,
Dan came home alone,
from the Boer War
zone,
as the Leather-heads
do mutter
{birds of the bush}
Don Johnson
Leatherheads have a
bump of meat on on
top of the beak....a
grey friar bird who
will talk to lonely
people in the
outback
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