My [Cheshire] Cat

It’s True,

Of late I feel  I’ve been rejected

It’s  academically arguable and I’m accepting it

I believe it’s a viable  theory,  an intelligent hypothesis.

I’ve been rejected—

A fact for me to digest.

Yes of course it’s sad--and all

Still, Yes and However,

I accept

As I do not wish to  ‘pretend’

That My views are different than those of others

In this case, You!

And I do offend

Sensibilities of many

And it’s true,  I wish

To search life while here

I  have no intention to Stop

 Examining To some Understanding

Which seems to be my offence

So far as you are concerned

Dismissing me with angry accusation of my ‘com plex’

So you do not want,

To be disturbed

Nor to accompany me

But No, it is NOT

That a major problem lies with me

And my so-called ‘com plex’

Which according to you

Is that I hate men.

That’s a very strange conclusion

We won’t go into that.

Quite the opposite

I think instead

Sorry to Say there’s an unfortunate truth,

That the Late Peter Rhule¹    Has pointed out

In his book

 ‘Men are stupid, Women are Crazy’,

Even while I  hasten  to add

That of course the cliche does not apply

 At all

In significant cases, 

Albeit it does-- in too many!

Hormonally charged    Crazy-stupid warring guys

Women prohibited from

Attending formal classes

Let’s all try something different

Why drive each other mad

Do you think we live forever,

Or are you so depressed

My first large step is due,  here and now,

It’s  that    I SHALL take confidence

In my own brilliances! 

Thank you!

You have just made me realise, I have to invest,

In Me YES

And stop  gifting you

Meeting  vampire-like,  time wasting  ideas

effects of which it seems you are not aware

I’ve tried to suggest

a two-person arrangement, a friendship

Not just a situation for your personal dictations, Your ego and edification

It would be a happy situation

For everyone

To see a healing of  your depression/s

And not joining

Or staying around

Others,    Who’ve  not yet found

Any semblance whatsoever 

Of satisfying directions

But instead listened and practiced violent reactions

I cannot solve your difficulties

You’ve not responded to my help where able,

Rejected many doctors’ credentials

If not arrogance, definitely a symptom needing assistance

So we part, and I sincerely say

That I love you, yours is another good human heart,

A friend from many years,

With much work to do 

I would like to hear

That more peace in this life arrives tout suite for you too.

Big Trouble

Spotting a headline,

in a major national newspaper,

I see that an American Catholic Nun

has written her views.

Her ideas have now been

supported by a variety of religious colleagues

and forthwith denied and denigrated

by the Pope

with pronouncements to support his

continuing refusal of feminism.

Like witch hunting, and white-gloved, too. 

Who’s made up such rules?

Their survival such a bleeding blight

on parched landscapes

which how can he say he has not raped.

Is it any wonder, 

perhaps it is a blessing,

his abusive reactions, rejection of some desires,

human needs, basic rights

That, instead of a longer life, 

he may incite his earlier demise,

a suggestion most unlikely,

simply another possibility,

albeit plenty it seems would happily fill his same place.

File Name: 2012 June 6.  Big Trouble.  Re American Catholic Nun.

Id-i-om

example given

it   is   r- a- i- n- i-    n-    g

     Cats 
               and 
                       Dogs

Whatever Gets You Through the Night

I'm   so   hap py   In    the   Night
  I   feel   I   can   do   as   I   like

What   Gets   Me   through   the   day   is
  I'm   looking   for ward   to   the   Night

                   Day  Shows  Me
                  In   my   worst   light
Trapped   in   an   of fice.   DEEP LY DARK

   But   the   Night   be longs   to   Me
               Me   My   and    I
    BE FORE   You    Yours   and    You
  I'm   not   yours.  I'm    not  a n y   bo dy's
                 B ody    or    Mind

               Not   any body's Bo dy
      Let  A lone A ny Bo dy's   Mind 
             Not   SOR RY.    Just   SANE.
GO A WAY      --      Leave   My   Night  A lone.


              NOW  --  MO VING ON
             Yes,      Thanks   To   Me
Night   AND   Day  --  Now   I   feel   at   Home
             In   my   Bo dy   and    In    My    Mind
       I   feel    A   GAIN  --  I   am   MY   OWN.

In Your Arms

Full   Moon  Light
Or Crescent Shape

In Your Arms
I've Liked to Be

One Eighty Degrees -
And Twice

Cells   Function   Perfectly

        LONELINESS


       Immobilis'd     4

              by          5

       Lone  li  ness   3

Bad   Place  To    Be    7

Change    Direction    Now   5

Cat

                                                            Give me back that Cat

                                               It’s the Only Soft Thing Around Here.

Ode to Anne

Ode to Anne

Anne Anastasia

Endured and Enjoyed

Travel To and From

Different Parts of the World

Painter and Opal Cutter

Silk, Linen, Cotton and Natural Dyes

Twisted and Dipped

Heated and Boiled,

Smoothing and Drying

Painting from the Centre Of Australia

And from Maroubra to Burwood

Marrickville to The Blue Mountains

Sent from Alexandria

Suez

At 15

Alone on a ship

Arrived traditionally

with her dollars

Yes, Inside of a Box

Of Turkish Delight

Then Parents with sisters,

Arrived from a past

Comfortable ‘British Petroleum’ Life—

A soberly intelligent Mama’ and Papa’

To what has Never Been

Terra Nullis

To Reactions of fear of her Big Hair,

And her packed school lunches

Containing no white bread sandwiches

Spanakopita,

Coffees,

Colourful outfits,

So many  ‘Sus’

Differences!   All rejected then While now the latest trends

Still she works

Amongst her many 

well-tended friends, beloved family members

and Her Own Passionate Artistic Practices Works and Pleasures

Cameras, Computers,

With Vacuum Cleaners,

Nappies,

Frustrating and Demanding Students

Such a logistic Non-Napoleonic Genius

Refined and and broad in her Experiences,

I wish consistent Sun

and Restorative Rain,

For My So Beautiful Opalescent Friend

Anastasia

The Body

What must/can/should/may I do
concerning the body when dead?

Cremation is a must

but where and how

to dispose

of Ashes
without offending the law

which involves variety of different

people,

and

without causing

those still struggling

with social life

as little as possible

strife?

No matter how much desire 

to minimise pain

at least for those

I most love

or as more generously wise than I

would say:-

‘I love them all

who’ve been in my life’ (!)

familiarity, friendship, peer group suitability

facts of birth,

and it seems

that

nonetheless, I must move along.

There is no need to revisit

for the Umpteenth time

Waverley Cemetery,

Nor similarly to  bus, walk and taxi

to Bronte Cemetery yet again;

I will ignore their magnetically mesmerising
attraction,  to find my way through the vegetation,

paths and ornamentation, 

peek over the edge of the cliffs,

keep a safe distance, while raising my eyes

briefly

to view the sea.

Probably there’s a need, instead

to stop in

to nearby Redfern Steet, the my local Funeral Home

It’s close by Redfern Park,

palm trees, artistic fountains of indigenous plant life, pods and

the classic fountain donated by the free settler John Baptiste, 

who joined those already here in 1829

and the rest of us uninvited and arrived since 1788

How is the body prepared,

delivered, collected?

And after the crematorium,

will my brother or someone

tip a tin

on to the water on the Harbour

Is it correct

to take a trip

as I thought would be a great thing,

as I returned from a visit to  Balmain

yesterday on the Ferry

from Mort Street

to Circular Quay

after celebrating

with a friend

our birthdays of 60 and 61

But was I simply

stimulated by good company

and being silly and creatively insane?

Catalysts

Connected with brightness

Somehow here in my presence

there are catalysts

for the many

for all best,  in all of us

Do your family well

enjoy happiness

strengthen healthy synapses

Sense/senses of the words,

the syntaxes,

fully realise

language communications

and paint brushes,  tools of the visual artist

voices and piano, rhythms of musical gifts 

in love with the community

Disappointment and strife to deal with,

keep increasing our confidence,

singing, making new images

to carry on and become

composted,  renewed, recycled,

understanding, understood,

Drama does Drama

Drama does Drama

Shock to have confirmed

blast cells drama returned…

thoughts which move one on.

Synopses waked up

emote through community

opportunities.

Yin Yang translations

assist patience, reactions

panic’d friends, fam’ly.

All are balancing

standing looking at a print

Hiroshige’s...   

Einstein's Wires

Einstein’s Wires

Under kitchen sink

question Einstein time and space

candles, containers

electrical wires

clean/sort   emergency   stash

toolmaking farmer

dust, wash, repack

hammer, nails, nuts, bolts

sharpening stone,  garden cutters

she shared her desire

handywoman my mother

colours, paper, fabrics, sticks

discouraged,   dismissed

did creative behaviour

glue, rags, recycles

who can remember

woman working with Einstein

what was her name

     

Final Version

Re-examine a painting.

Walking up Redfern Street, east to west

to Redfern Railway Station.

Three stops to Stanmore.

To collect a painting,

newly conserved and re-framed…

one of my mother’s own art works

painted under a superbly-trained and practiced,

but not untypically forgot/ten

woman.

Some family myths

surround this youthful work

of 1946 perhaps.

Surface now restored to lush oil glow,
and placed under the latest

clear glass technology

to extend its possible family discussion.

So now I may re-examine

my own dismissive distaste,

try for re-consideration

in light of life’s ongoing education.

I am more relaxed, to fathom, to question

aspects, impacts, attitudes.

What struck me, up to a certain age,

was emotional power holding sway,

pouring out. 

Now I see some good technique,

traditional principles

within dark colours and contrasts,

which would be, I believe,

early experimentation in extremes.

Until later, it irked my senses in what I saw

as  crass, and I was unforgiving. I wanted to hide it away.

Which I did, placing it carefully, but covered and in its

heavy, re-cycled ornate Victorian frame, amongst other

family works including my own, re-situated, unseen in each

house and apartment as I’ve travelled around the State.

A white-wigged lady stands,

dressed in an immense gown,

Hollywood-style, MGM?

And pseudo-French court etiquette.

Her prop, an open fan, held in her right hand,

to parallel her left.

Her body is slightly turned, or is it turning?

I see again, she’s definitely distinctly determined.  

She is centre-stage, in front

of a grand arch.

All is within the Golden Rule,

And a ballroom crowd moves about behind.

A friend notes today,

a lady and a man, in the crowd behind,

speaking together, behind another fan!

I am amazed,

I’ve missed that fact, 

being more involved

in

my own Family mythologies!

And times and tribal mores.

It seemed to me, by 28, 

to be only

an 18-year-old’s silly Cinderella fantasy,

reflections of unrealistic post-war dreams.

I’ve laughed, in arrogance.

But more, I strongly admire

the focus and talented technique,

even the subject,

coming from where it does.

It commands my full respect,

Interest and compliment.

Half her talent

added to my received opportunities…

I think it all demonstrates

her hidden frustration,

unselfish albeit in no good position,

when she stepped out strongly

every day

despite everything,

to do what she thought was best

under the circumstances.

I don’t feel I am less.

But I see I am different

while equally the same,

and still it’s not a competition nor a game.

But then,

that is what it is,

true feminism,

which is massive change.

Tall Trees

TALL TREES

Within Redfern Park

tall trees can be seen

And air vibrates

when it rains

on a hot sunny day

Wet earth, eucalypt oil, figs, palm foliage –

spread fragrances around the Park

and shade, shadow and light,

damp, dry, parched or drenched,

composting is happening

Makes me forget for a short space

that tall trees are quickly lopped,

disappear into an arborist’s

grinding machine and back of truck

Shredded remains lying in allies and lanes

across suburbs including up this street

where workers had parked

on weekends around noon,

and during the weeks, early or late,

when no Council scout could be found

and when neighbours were running for work

Trees falling like ‘tall poppies’

smashed, changed paths,

hardening mud, poured concrete,

cubic metres of floor space,

for views into private windows behind tiny balconies,

‘little boxes made of ‘ticky tacky’’

and all foliage cleaned up.

Additions, subdivisions, renovations, restylings.

After which we shall re-style the parks

and begin all over again.