THE STATE WE ARE IN POEM

6am Sat. 21st March 2009.

 Queensland State Election polling booth. 

How did being in Australia from 14years old develop my political identity? It started with Bob Hawke's public persona and speeches with the ACTU and then as leader of the Labor Opposition grabbed my attention.

Unfortunatly as a 'New Australian' nobody had told me I had to register to vote so my excitement to vote Hawke as P.M. was rejected(Melbourne 1980).

It took me many years before I signed to be a member and it was as a New Queenslander (Ipswich West 2000). 

1.

Transient we were, leaving

Kyneton daffodils, free mineral

Water pump, conkers like in 

The old cold country!

Victoria, the State we left behind

Had no use for us, so stagnant,

Our visions meaning nothing, frozen

Out by dickey-bowed and designer clothed

Administrators of Government grants.

The last straw - the brick wall,

Gas fires burning up our dole,

Debt and Kennett unbearable,

And our last picnic with friends

At Albert Park, surrounded by 

Genteel protest yellow ribbons

Against a speeding car race.

So we drove up the Calder, 

Thousand's of K's away and

Tropical dreams; removing

Winter woolley coats and boots

Over in New South Wales.

The ties of the tarp over the trailer

unfasten, flapping, revealing old puppet

Shows for a fresh audience, bits of ply-

Wood, foam rubber scraps for new puppets -

Trash to other eyes, so no fear of theft of 

All of worldly goods.

Those polystyrene assets; balls and bags, 
Fabric, tubes, beads and tins of glue are
Seeds of fortune for us poor transient artists
Singing with the Kids, hymns of the 60's,
Jolly Swagman, Sound of Music, and 
British folk heritage, while Spot, good dog
Lay still; put up with it for hours.

Through sodden Coonabarabran to the soft

Ochre earth piles, and Narrabri 

Sketched in witchy Casurarina's, the journey

Up the Newell is a dream too for grey-nomad

Caravans.

Stopping to stretch , fill ol' Sunshine, our

Golden metal trusty steed, with liquid fossil

Fuel, and us with eyes devouring truckie

Menus of pies and bacon, steak or burger

With chips, sauce or gravy.

Minties unwrapped, moving past Boggabilla

(Memories of an ageing poem), feeling fat

And a bad back, we were finally over the 

Border in Queensland to plant the next 

Generation of...

Republicans!

Pro-choicers!

Left-wingers!

Performance Artists!

Refugee advocates!

Gay rights supporters!

Greenies, bohemians, and

Bleedin' heart Labor voters!

(and there's more coming!....do you want to know what happened next?)

2.

In 1995 Tivoli caravan park for
Old coal miners and thespians...
Summer rains, smacking mozzies
And no complaints even though
The risks are remaining on the 
Margins.

Morning starts with emerald 
Feathers flashing, piercing squawks,
Beady red-eyed lorikeets smashing
Through my careworn gaze like a
Magic mushroom trip.(It's a poem!)

Fluorescent pink, purple and orange
Bougainvillea is back-drop to our 
Camp set-up like Picasso's circus
Family, only we have concrete slab.

Daily our settlement spreads close
To the Bearded dragon, while the trinity
Of tawny frogmouths watch from above.

Mammoth butterflies breeze through
Our humble pioneer garden; we've
Never seen such elegant spiders and
Fantastic stick things! Nature sustains
Our decision to persevere.

I stitch hems mindful to not look like
Tramps as we introduce our wares
Of environmentally conscious puppet
Characters and project ideas to the
Clerks charged with distributing portions
of the 'Creative Nation' policy cake in 
Towers furnished with views and murri art.

We bid for a share eagar to produce
And perform, thrive instead of merely
Survive - then return to our camper trailer,
Strip off and swim, converse with long-
Term tenants retrenched from the 
Ipswich coal-face long ago,
 Like Don and Dave, Jim and Kev
 With tall tales that comrade
Hardy would have smiled in his eternal
Tea-cup, but like an over-used tea-bag
My resilience was drawing to an end.

November storms de-stabilised my soul's
Dreaming, but finally, after nine months like
 Dorothy and Toto, we were finally 
 Dropped into our own
Old Queenslander selected originally
By a couple of Irish dreamers battling through
Rosewood scrub, putting down stumps.

We are sure when we vote as residents 
 for an Australian Republic!
Against Hansonism!
Re-planting indigenous vegetation!
Challenging Creationism!
Voting for a female Premier and
A woman's right to reproduce or not,
From our back-block and Solar lights
On a Fernvale hill.

*********



Mr & Mrs McNeill  INVEST IN A SOLAR SOLUTION
AGAINST GLOBAL WARMING AND REDUCE THEIR ENERGY BILLS.

Solar energy future, thanks to Queensland 
and Commonwealth funding.
www.cleanenergy.qld.gov.au




A link to my article about OUR LIVES IN AUSTRALIAN PUPPETRY

Carpet Python of The Gingerbread Kid
Ipswich 1998

(c)copyright all rights reserved Nov 2011

reviewed 2019 QLD