Category: Poetry

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Fly My Pretties

Witch cat

Samhain 2021

Hear me friends, heed the call,
around the bonfire gather all,
to cauterise its endless bingeing
patriarchy needs a singeing,
Our broomsticks now wait in the wings
for sophisticated modern things,
3d drones printed in the thousands
to swarm the warming world unmanned,
We’ll guide them swift above the land
and torch oppressors where they stand,
locate them by their hi viz vests,
divest them of their treasure chests,
seize power from wealthy old white men,
incinerate the deadly capitalist system,
With eye of newt and skin of toad
remove the crushing brutal load,
cast a pure contemporary spell,
send the colonisers straight to hell,
as they consigned our beloved sisters,
corrupted flesh will melt and blister,
On Judgement day their bones won’t rise
while we’ll embrace the end of lies,
Off, you ghoulies, to the kitchen,
we’ve better things to do – more witchin’,
We’ll heal the forests, mend the breach,
before the tipping point is reached,
Now fly my pretties, straight to prey
so our planet lives for another day.

Jinjirrie
October 2021

Related Links

Caliban and the Witch (Silvia Federici)

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On The Plague of Grifters

Disdainful Black Cat

Wicky Woo

Wicky wicky wacky woo,
do as i say, do as I do,
spread disease, reject the vax,
embrace my bullshit alternate facts,
the sicker you get, the more you’ll need me,
your desperation is what feeds me,
western doctors, what do they know,
big pharma, like me, wants profits to grow.

Buy my potions, pills and prophecies,
there’s none so blind as do not see,
don’t forget your horse dewormer,
I’m your role model star performer,
freedom is my personal brand,
your body, your choice are in my hands,
wicky wicky wacky woo,
I have the snake oil just for you.

Us woo merchants are on the fiddle,
you sitting ducks are scared of needles,
this border lockdown really sucks,
burn your masks, free the trucks,
all the experts huff and blow,
let’s party like there’s no tomorrow,
wicky wicky wacky woo,
more money for me and pain for you.

Jinjirrie, August 2021

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Guardians of the Words

Israel bombs library

Strike For Palestine

at the magic point of writing my own stories
again joy’s stolen by Israel and its settler cronies,
how many times have the bombs of the colonizer
fallen on its sitting duck prisoners in Gaza?
now more sleepless nights tweeting, posting
attacking the flatulent zionist boasting
to stop genocidal killing in desperation
for my mates oppressed by the West’s occupation,
and what am i, what’s the bloody use,
another fucking white saviour out in the bush,
through a torrent of tears never heard,
all i can fight with are coarse distant words,
may they be sharp and hard, accurate missiles
to pierce the iron colonial carapace
for as in Israel and US, here they are present
condemning refugees to eternal imprisonment
scumbag white supremacists strut and preen
with gruesome European colonial hubris.

Jinjirrie, May 2021

Manifest Hasbara

Liberal hasbaroids are snide
prancing the dance of ‘both sides’
not ‘clashes’, resistance to apartheid
this ‘conflict’ is 73 years of genocide

Jinjirrie, May 2021

Related Links

“The Migration Amendment (Clarifying International Obligations for Removal) Bill 2021 was introduced on the last sitting day of the last session in March.

On Thursday, in the hours before the budget reply speech, the government cut short debate on the floor of the Senate and brought the bill to a vote. There were critics on the floor of the parliament, notably Greens senator Nick McKim and independent MP Andrew Wilkie. But with bipartisan support, there was little room for dissenting voices. With Labor’s support, the bill passed quietly into law.”

Take action to end apartheid criminal Israel’s impunity – Strike for Palestine. “Silence and two-sides-ism are immoral, as they reinforce Israel’s criminal impunity.”

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Tongue Tied

High Kitsch
Tossing up whether to stay,
in trouble for needling tone
weeding out redundancy,
extraneous “that’s”,
nervous “buts” grating,
musicians can’t get away with
bum notes, a voice singing flat,
drums out of time, violin out of tune.
In writing and painting,
does anything go?
with crafty nitpicking
dropped stitches unravel knitting.
“Art is a matter of opinion”
bleats the vainglorious fool,
“to write at all is better than silence”
yet quietude is restful and brainfarts terrorize,
crackling chip packets in cinemas,
literary abstract expressionists
demand respect for widdershin words,
the minimalist scribes for a single dot
in the centre of the page
.
what’s the bloody point of words anyway
if clumsy drivel is high art too,
do you feel anything at all?
do you suck or blow?

Jinjirrie, February 2021

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Wankers (A Sonnet)

Working Man

I’m a working class bloke with a working class wife
I’m poor but they tell me “At least you’re white,
though you’re gonna be working for the rest of yer life,
by the grace of the great bloke god, she’ll be right”.
At sixty-five, they used to retire workers like me,
Now the bosses bleed us till we’re worn out and drop,
We’ll get ours in heaven, a pension we’ll never see
and the toffs whoop it up and scoff the lot.
Sleazy Scummo’s in clover, doing us over,
“No pasaran”, we cry, defying our fates
while we hold picket lines, sisters and brothers,
he mainlines to god, filling pockets of mates.
“Be your own revolution”, scream greedy bourgeoisie,
Yet we workers win over wankers in solidarity.

Jinjirrie, January 2021