Picture Postcards From Paris

SmogTousled mother and child sleep against a temporary fence,
Curl together, serene, cane bowl and coins by bare feet near the Louvre,
Closed for completion of another underground car park.
In the Place du Concours, Japanese busloads
point Nikons at streaky grey monuments
where knitters considering the contemporary charm
of the guillotine would be run over.
Locked away in the Tuilleries, romance floats with Monet’s waterlilies.

Even on a spring day after rain, the Eiffel Tower
is coyly wreathed in smog,
while down the dusty Seine, tourist boats
swarm around the Ile de la Cité and
fish bloat in the run off.

By lucid evening light, in Montmartre love affairs revive,
Chic short-skirted girls lick strawberry icecream
and watch modern masters sketch on sidewalks.
Beneath, cold-hearted youths clutch knives
and wait at lonely Metro corners.
Over the elegant Mansard roofs, tribal traffic
howls in the noxious fumes of Paris spring,
Red cars career down cobblestones meant for carriages.
There’s no charm in a million charging Citroens –
a great place to visit,
I wouldn’t want to choke there.

1992

The current riots in Paris reminded me of this poem written after a visit to Paris. I never regretted reaching the age of 37 without a ride in a red sports car through Paris with the warm smoggy wind in my hair. This poem was published by Bruce Dawe in 1992 in the Courier Mail literary section, before it was axed. Sarkozy’s government banned beggars around the Louvre and other tourist hot spots in 2011.

Birds of a Feather

Sulphur-created Cockatoo

Do as I say but not as I do
Screeched the preening cock-a-too
Praised by chattering yes-birds
Who don’t walk the squawk
Yet parade in vain glory
From the Great Bird’s talk.

So the Song takes precedence
Over atonal dissent
Principles aren’t meant
to be set in cement!
Why risk abandonment
By precious Flock sycophants?

Together let all of us squawk
Drown out our contradictory walk
Keep our eyes on the prize
We can do no wrong
If we adore the Great Bird
Who leads us in song!

Jinjirrie
October 1, 2018

Plastic Backlash in the Trashy Country

Snailafact

Yesterday in the Stupormarket (a throwaway poem)

People’s heads overflow with plastic crap
Disposable thoughts
Bags
Lives
Wasted
Thrown onto the global garbage heap
To choke other species with trash
And then their own
The final backlash
Don’t care is made to care
when there’s none left to do the caring
Gobble gobble gobble
They can’t be bothered to remember to bring
Recyclable bags to the stupormarket
Eyerolling addicted octogenerians
Bubble wrapped the future
A plastic floating continent
On expansion of forgetfulness
Parasitical capitalism breeds
Superfluous boastfulness
of having so much
You can afford to discard
Without a thought or care
Trolley rage goes national
Surging through rigid brain aisles
Even the checkout boy complains
Take take take
Tupperware mentalities
Consume consume consume
Chuck the leftovers into the ravine
To poison the oceans and streams
Buy buy buy oblivion
It’s what civilised humans do
The way it’s always been they say
Nimby nimby nimby numbskulls

Jinjirrie, July 2018

Deakin University’s Centre for Employee and Consumer Wellbeing behaviour researcher Dr Paul Harrison the disconnect had to do with “the difference between an attitude and a behaviour”.

“People can say, ‘I like the idea of having to bring my own bags’, but people struggle with those things. You can say you’ll do something but whether you’ll do that are two different parts of the brain,” Dr Harrison said.

“Getting into neuroscience, the prefrontal cortex says, ‘Yes of course I can do that’, but the prehistoric brain says, ‘I’ll just keep doing what I’ve always done.'”

Incantations Against White Supremacism for Easter

Ball Tampering

Whitey’s Still on the Moon

Whitey gets a pass
because whitey is whitey
and white is right
whitey leads the fight
of the righteous struggle
of those oppressed
by benevolent whiteness
whitey’s the biggest victim
circling white wagons
benedictus benedictum
white saviour behaviour
honoured by whitey
for wealth and privilege
take up the white man’s burden
dissent is sacrilege
pre-ordained fame and fortune
whitey won the lucky dip
to captain white-sailed ships
first on the list
white supremacist
whitey’s got a ticket to ride
most active of activists
yachts to burn
marches to march
white gutless wonders watch
and silence is assent
quiet as white mice
no white divisiveness
of imperial solidarity
this exploitative opacity
colonise the colonised
the way it’s always been
whiteness is rightness
eternally blessed
the rough Beast’s in Jerusalem
Gil Scott Heron embraced BDS
and whitey’s on the moon still.

Jinjirrie, March 2018

Ball Tampering

They’ve lied once too often
to be trusted on their word
Craven politicians polish
yet another turd
The public’s asked to buy
a “Russian novichok”
While the greedy Toadball class
put us all in hock,
Cut those corporate taxes!
Give the rich another break!
It’ll trickle down to you scum
So our mates are on the take?
On military exports
the western world depends
Who cares if our warmongering
causes life on earth to end?

Jinjirrie, March 2018

Heat Wave in the Land of Drought and Flooding Rains

Heat Wave

You could cook the snags
on the sizzling shed roof
so we’ll have a barby
in verandah shade
speechless with heat
regard each other
dessicating in halcyon days
dive into dam shaded
by regenerating
forest fightback
against settler colonial payback
outside this land ruined
by cloven-footed whiteness
the quick greedy buck
populating and perishing
they push the bush
and who gives a fuck?
it’s the Australian norms
raise a glass to the
coming storms.

February 2018

(Published at the Buck House Writers Group)