The ex’s fridge finally departs
On some nice bloke’s ute
Knocked about hearts
The ex’s fridge finally departs
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I knew your mother, no… your great grandmother, I reckon.
She tried living here too, though I can’t fathom why.
Your folk don’t particularly like the weather here.
And there’s better food for you buzzing around the kitchen.
You’re too small to gently catch as yet.
So I’ll wait till you grow a bit.
Luckily the kids are at their mum’s for the next few days.
I tried to keep the spray away from you, as you scurried up and down the wall, trying to escape the rain and thunder.
You slipped down into the pool at my feet, tickled my ankle, and I shook you off onto a dry section.
Me, tottering in one slippery foot as I quelled the instinctive anti-bug panic.
Not wanting to end up in Emergency explaining myself, I cut short my shower.
Sleep well little arachnid.
Hope you find your own way outside, but meantime can you take care of those Brisbane fruit flies for me?
Art enchants logic
Narcissus orbits Goldmund
The moth to the flame
If fate should break my stride
Insurance would pay my debts
My kids and their mother would not want
Someone would win my beloved bike and car
No, not saying who
What’s left of my stuff would be dispersed and most likely dispensed
My unfinished (it will always be) work and various virtual personas would lie scattered around the internet
Little nuggets of someone else’s happenstance as they wander around Second Life, Facebook, Scribd, Youtube, MySpace, ESnips, Flickr, Tumblr, …
Eventually accounts and passwords would expire
Just as flowers on tombstones fade and whither
And even last words engraved in the very stone are worn away by wind, water and hopefully some caresses by my children’s fingers grown older than I had known, and their children perhaps I’d never met.
My students would carry on my knowledge
Family and friends would remember me and then eventually forget
I don’t mind all these, but I’m sad that I wouldn’t be able to read to my children, and to their children … so…
Six Word Saturday
Perhaps a step in a useful direction, but really a drop in the bucket. I’d also like to see the basic human rights violations we are perpetrating on refugees being addressed. Also let’s stop calling them illegal aliens, queue jumpers and similar BS. It is not illegal to seek refugee. We are signatories to conventions that protect refugee rights. Politicians should and do know better, and this language simply proves how politicised this issue has become. A few hundred or even a few thousand boat-borne refugees does not constitute a threat to Australia’s security or economy. As for the pious argument that we have their safety-at-sea in our hearts, or that we wish to destroy the people smuggler’s business model, well that’s easy to do by placing Australian immigration processing offices further up the supply chain. It would cost far less as well.
New Zealand will take 150 refugees from Australian asylum seeker detention centres every year under a new deal agreed between the two countries’ governments.
A Few See-isms
The less I look
The more I see
Being is to not be
The more I look
The more I see
How sparse are the seers
And plentiful need-to-sees
A few more mostly unfinished… help yourself and play on if you wish.
Nothing to see here
See what’s in this bottle?
Difficult to see
The future is
You’ll see, come with me
Life will be better
If we hold hands and glee
Here’s an article (which happens to be about same-sex marriage) that shows how unattractive and un-liked it has become to write in a transparently pseudo-academic style. The authors have attracted almost no support at all in the comments, with many intelligently refuting the very roots of the authors’ arguments.
The combined article and comments, as a set, is a heartening and fascinating example of the current thoughtful debate on the topic of same-sex marriage, a debate which is clearly progressing rapidly because of that thoughtful effort.
At Mrs Tu’s corner takeaway
Opposite our little train station
Late summer’s afternoon sun backlighting a beautiful Brisbane sky
Pale blues and gold-fringed grey-whites to the west
Deeper blues and front-lit tufts to the east
Overhead birds’ tummies get a bit of the low-slung sun
Good folk pedestri-ants arrive tenth-hourly
Shuffling home on their dwindling energies
Tired smiles share my burger-with-the-lot hand-made with lurv
All dripping beetroot, pineapple and BBQ sauce – a Queensland “with-the-lot”
Instinctive Australian salivation kicks them along home just a bit faster
My good deed done.