|Randomly selected from my gallery.|
Out of the black lodge...It lurks in the dank, dark heart of the woods,Out of the black lodge... by CouchyCreature
attracting all that slinks, crawls and slithers in the night.
Pushing cold into the bones and nightmares into the
heads of children, who wake crying with fear and creeping
to their parent's beds for comfort.
In the morning it will be gone. It feeds on hope and once hope is gone,
it moves on. It must, because the hope does not return.
Those who lose it know that it is lost forever and they will no more
see the joy in life. When they laugh, their laughter is hollow, like their eyes.
Their easy smiles at seeing a loved one are replaced by a
quick glimpse over their shoulder, to be sure no one is close. No more
are strangers welcomed to their hearth, and their houses
seem to echo with the emptiness of occupants long gone.
He dreams awakeHe dreams awake,He dreams awake by CouchyCreature
and waking, the visions stay.
They've come back. He can't see them, or hear them.
He just knows they're there.
Softly, softly, they move soundlessly from point to point,
as if mapping a boundary mostly unseen, in a shadowland of shadow play.
He wasn't afraid ...not much anyway.
He'd felt their presence before.
They'd been there swooping and soaring on silent wings,
casting no shadows in a midday sun.
He didn't know then that the voices would come later.
Tiny little piping voices, that at first he didn't understand,
like the meaningless chatter of city cafeterias.
But soon the stories emerged. Soaring stories, stories of hardships and tribulations,
of unlimited joys and jubilation, of pride and power, of kindness
...and later, of cruelty.
He sees, in his mind, the land far below. Feels the driving need of his search.
Somewhere below, that for which he searches wanders unsuspecting and unaware,
like he, before the changes.
Prima FacieDistressed by love,Prima Facie by CouchyCreature
turned to pornography or joke
in the hands of the evil
and feeble minded.
Isolated in the office
with devices that imitate true communication,
or dealing with smiles
motivated by money or business
or other less obvious agendas,
turn it on, turn it off.
Homewards - the initial shivered moment of fear
as you put the key in the lock,
like a genetic memory.
Lights on, alarm off, answering machine reports on command.
Advising of meetings delayed, apppointments confirmed.
Tired, you eat - canned Navy beans, easy in some bland and unidentifiable sauce.
Then, late night television news from everywhere but here.
Still no real conversations (nor even a cat, rubbing and demanding).
Glistening water lights, reflecting the blue of neon,
the soft cushioning that comes with tonic and lime and damask sheets.
Piano unplayed, rugs never fucked on
...sleep to the newsreaders and the unheard hum of the city.
I woke thinking of youI woke thinking of you, wishing that when I finally chose to open my eyes, I would see your head on the pillow beside me, be able to snuggle into your body and smell your skin ...a heady mix of subtle pheremones, perspiration and the more lingering ingredients of the perfumes you wear.I woke thinking of you by CouchyCreature
|Words as I find them.|
On the 23rd August in 1966, the Gurindji people walked off Lord Vestey's Wave Hill station, the largest cattle ranch in the world at the time, over 5,000 sq miles. It was the start of the longest strike in Australia's history. The strike lasted 7 years.
It is very important, because, although the strike was initiated over wages, conditions and treatment of the aboriginal workers (According to a Northern Territory inquiry report in 1922 and talking about Vestey -'It was obvious that they had been ... quite ruthless in denying their Aboriginal labour proper access to basic human rights'), it became apparent that it was also about land rights. It became the first land rights claim to get the land back into the hands of it's traditional custodians and out of the hands of those who were granted rights by a government that had no right to be granting those rights (if you are watching Australian current events right now this may sound a little familiar).
There should be a great Australian movie to tell this history. We certainly never learnt about it in school when I was a child. It is a story with heroes and villains aplenty, communists and British aristocracy, unionists and death threats.
You can read details of the strike in Wikipedia - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gurindji…
Frank Hardy also wrote a book called 'The Unlucky Australians' which I recommend.
The Gurindji fight is also the inspiration for a wonderful song written by Paul Kelly and Kev Carmody -