Poet's Corner

Here’s to the crazy ones.
The misfits.
The rebels.
The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.

They’re not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo.
You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them,
disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them.

About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them.
Because they change things.
They invent.
They imagine.
They heal.
They explore.
They create.
They inspire.

They push the human race forward.

Maybe they have to be crazy.
How else can you stare at an empty canvas and see a work of art?
Or sit in silence and hear a song that has never been written?
Or gaze at a red planet and see a laboratory on wheels?

We make tools for these kinds of people.
While some see them as the crazy ones,
we see genius.

Because the people who are crazy enough
to think they can change the world,
are the ones who do.

The heat of the sun.
The crackings of the whip.
The screams of pain.
The blood of peeled flesh.
The plight of their time.

Are you still there
I guess I'll never know
Surely you must have heard of this one sided love affair

Are you still singing
How your voice thrilled me so
Maybe I'll quit dreaming and things will become clear

Are you going to remain quiet
Until I finally let you go
Clearly looking at one side there's only a few words left to write

Are you still there
Seems like the end of a long distance call
Silence on the line I guess says it all

Is there an answer to "What's This Life For"?
longing to know eats at our curious core
All interpretations fall far short of sound
maybe in death reason for being is found

An Almighty proclaimed to have given life to humanity
a supposed "Gift" he destined to be a calamity
Reality proves life is many things but a "gift" it is not
It's a consistent heartache culminating six feet under to rot

I'll never grasp how anyone gives a "Gift" that's inundated with sorrow
or decide joy would only be something we can occasionally borrow
He commanded we abide by rules far less than reasonable
some obvious but he knew compliance to all wasn't feasible

What was the motive behind human existence beyond Adam and Eve
did their sin warrant "Our Loving God" deciding we must forever grieve
Sustaining faith in a book littered with fairy tales is arduous at best
and never questioning what you can't see...surely you jest

Why call something a "Gift" you designed to be an agonizing chore
all I've said raises the haunting question, "What's This Life For"

Lying out on Pensacola beach under scorching rays
engrossed in TK101 rock but still my mind strays
As I lay sweating profusely burning sand covers me
some found my eyes so I couldn't open them to see

Startled...I quickly raise up to rid my sticky body of all the grit
after wiping my stinging eyes I managed to open them a bit
After focusing on The Goddess starring down I became breathless
her looks were of such resplendence I was "Rendered Speechless"

I then heard "I'm so so sorry" in the sexiest possible voice
"Can you ever forgive me"... like that was even a choice
My brain is screaming respond but I'm too stupefied to speak
It's stuck on processing this Venus of inexplicable mystique

After another "so sorry" she turned then slowly began walking away
she glanced back and with a wink uttered "I'll see you another day"
If we ever meet again I hope words won't be so hard to find
what I absolutely do know is visions of she will never exit my mind

I lie back down with thoughts of her running rampant in my head
F.Y.I...we saw each other again late that night... "in my bed"

I was a girl when I met your kind.
Yours was my first scent of refined,
Cultured class.
Leather and lather.
I am in love with you and your brothers,
The way you strut and prance.
Head high, alert eyes.

Yes, I still look for that confident
Bounce in the stride of your
Working-class cousins.
The flag of majestic strength,
Regal boldness.
Fearlessness.
The walk of a winner.

Come gather round the campfire mates and listen for a while,
And I'll tell you all the story of the man who never smiled.
He was somewhat of a rover, and his friends all called him John
He hailed from southern New South Wales, a place called Wollongong.

Well he finished up in Queensland where he met this bird named Jean
And together then the pair set out to do the Brisbane scene.
But within a month she left him, stony broke, without a cent
With nothing but a memory,(and a bill for two weeks rent!)

So further North, to Anakie, John chased his silver lining
On Queensland's famous sapphire fields he tried his hand at mining.
Well he made a quid at this new lurk, became a man of means
And with his new found wealth set out to find his love it seems.

Now he got as far as Rocky where he thought he'd stop a while
And took a job as fencer (just to help to pass the time.)
But alas, he didn't last long for he clocked the overseer
And it was round about this time he started on the beer.

Then his bird wrote him a letter asking him to come and get her
Up at Tully (she was with another bloke)
In the bar there at the station getting stuck into a ration
Of Bacardi. (That's the stuff they drink with Coke.)

Well she went with him to Townsville and they found a little flat
And it seemed at last that things had turned out right
But again she up and left him while he was asleep (God rest him)
Not a single word, just vanished in the night.

Now poor old John just went to pieces and got stuck into the grog
For to him (at least) it seemed his life was over.
So he boozed up day and night, they say he looked a flamin'fright
It was a miracle if ever he was sober!

Some folk said that he was "queer"while others blamed it on the beer
And it's 20 years (they say) now since he smiled
He had made and spent a fortune on a bird who had ignored him
I tell you mates, women! Just ain't worth your while.

Well I guess I'd better leave now as I've still a ways to go
Destination? I don't really know, I'm following my nose
So I guess I'll see you round mates as I've stayed here far too long
What's my name you ask? I thought you knew, it's John..from Wollongong.

The old tramp kicked over the bin
For holding onto remnants of the past
Was just a forlorn hope
That tomorrows rubbish would
Be any the fresher
And the artist, forever daydreaming
Would think that brushing fresh paint
Upon an ancient canvas
Would make life more worthwhile
If he could just grab “The Past”

Where the poet whose head was
Forever poking through the clouds
Trying to see if he’s feet
Would ever touch the ground
And if he wrote something daring
And oh so poignant
Then he would not have been
Yesterday’s hero
But only the bankers could write the poem
Such a remarkable lament and
Appropriately titled
“Where has all the money gone?”
As if a poem would restore fortunes
And the new currency was “Flying Pigs”
Because everyone had seen them
And they made trading so much easier
Not like money that didn’t exist
And we could still “Fly to the Moon”
But it was far easier
To throw ourselves off a bridge

And the disfigured crumpled sign
Now barley legible after hanging
For so many years in the bakers shop
Window where dust and dead flies
Blended together to form a cremated carpet
And some artistic wag had scrawled with
He’s finger in bolded italic century gothic
“f*ck Off!!”
And the tramp read the sign again
Just in case over the years it had changed
But no even after two thousand reads
It was still a remnant of the past
Just like the now faded baker who
Had written with so much despair
“We have no bread today”
“The World has just closed”

It's truly breathtaking watching the rising Sun give us daylight
just as awesome witnessing a setting Sun bring back night
Those picturesque moments are ones you're certain to recall
"A Day at the Beach" epitomizes casual entertainment for all

As the Sun gradually ascends...sunbathers inundate the shore
relief from the sweltering heat are the Emerald waters next door
The worlds whitest beaches in Pensacola are second to none
the most alluring sights are lying out under the scorching Sun

Squawking Seagulls are synonymous with a day at the beach
Crane stalk the waters edge hoping a tidbit wanders within reach
Sand Crab scurry in and out of their holes seeking what it craves
in Blue Angel formation...Pelicans glide inches above the waves

'A Day at the Beach' can be magical...but you must never forget
the ocean demands respect or it will take your life with no regret
Beaches are invaluable places that offer fun and ways to unwind
when your day reaches done be sure to leave only footprints behind

I'm just trying to enjoy
My summer in the sun,
So many plans to employ,
But marauders bite my bum!

The weather is hot and muggy;
They zoom in every direction;
It all can drive a man buggy;
God made, a pecker of perfection!

My blood is what they want,
Sucking to have their fill;
I'm the focus of the hunt,
SMACK, be gone you devil!


Those bloody blood suckers!
I can't love those ugly critters.