So far nothing has quite saddened me
As much as seeing a child born into HIV
Beautiful kids not given a chance
Because of their parents’ poisoned romance
Their dice are all loaded, from day one
Either the energy to survive, or to have fun
Too weak to play football, too sick to learn
Disease and infection around every turn
And if by some miracle they manage to live
Then to their partner the disease they’ll give
And before long another child will be born
Another innocent being with a life to mourn
Written July 2010, after a visit to a slum in Kampala, and a day spent therein.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Manimals?
In this history of ours there’s many a black date
Unspeakable violence fuelled by hate
The reasons differ but the result is the same
Ordinary people kill, torture and maim
So what really happens, what goes on inside?
When the man on the street commits genocide
Is he following orders as so many claim
Acting out the will of a notorious name
Is he swept up in the fervour, a believer in the cause?
Acting on impulse in a land without laws
Or is there something more sinister that lurks within
Are we really just savages under the skin?
Given free reign, how would you behave?
Action without consequence, no society to enslave
Would you rape and murder, pillage and steal?
And if you did, how would it make you feel?
With no rule of law there’s no punishment of course
But is it human or societal to feel remorse?
If you can justify the way that you act
And live with yourself after the fact
Then is that all we are, animals walking tall
Looking for an excuse, any at all
To escape out of society’s cage
And put another black mark on history’s page
Written July 2010, after a day in the Rwandan genocide museum, but inspired by a number of visits to previous sights of genocide the world over, and the frustration associated.
Unspeakable violence fuelled by hate
The reasons differ but the result is the same
Ordinary people kill, torture and maim
So what really happens, what goes on inside?
When the man on the street commits genocide
Is he following orders as so many claim
Acting out the will of a notorious name
Is he swept up in the fervour, a believer in the cause?
Acting on impulse in a land without laws
Or is there something more sinister that lurks within
Are we really just savages under the skin?
Given free reign, how would you behave?
Action without consequence, no society to enslave
Would you rape and murder, pillage and steal?
And if you did, how would it make you feel?
With no rule of law there’s no punishment of course
But is it human or societal to feel remorse?
If you can justify the way that you act
And live with yourself after the fact
Then is that all we are, animals walking tall
Looking for an excuse, any at all
To escape out of society’s cage
And put another black mark on history’s page
Written July 2010, after a day in the Rwandan genocide museum, but inspired by a number of visits to previous sights of genocide the world over, and the frustration associated.
Techno Travel
There is no greater example of modern luxury
Then this strange dependence on technology
To travel to a place, regardless how poor
Requires a swag of gadgetry galore
Camera and kindle, ipod and phone
Do you think I can leave my laptop at home?
Memory cards and sticks, even a hard drive
Without these with me I just couldn’t survive
It goes without saying that there must also be
A fast internet connection and electricity
A thing’s not worth doing if it’s not going to look
Good on my twitter, flikr or facebook.
Sometimes I have to remind myself to sit and just be
To let the place I’m in well up and absorb me
I’m here to learn, in each place I visit
So I’d better disconnect or I’ll bloody well miss it!
Written July 2010, amazed at the divide between the technology of tourists vs the locals in rural Africa.
Then this strange dependence on technology
To travel to a place, regardless how poor
Requires a swag of gadgetry galore
Camera and kindle, ipod and phone
Do you think I can leave my laptop at home?
Memory cards and sticks, even a hard drive
Without these with me I just couldn’t survive
It goes without saying that there must also be
A fast internet connection and electricity
A thing’s not worth doing if it’s not going to look
Good on my twitter, flikr or facebook.
Sometimes I have to remind myself to sit and just be
To let the place I’m in well up and absorb me
I’m here to learn, in each place I visit
So I’d better disconnect or I’ll bloody well miss it!
Written July 2010, amazed at the divide between the technology of tourists vs the locals in rural Africa.
Consump-etition
We are a society defined by possession
Where ownership’s not just the law, but obsession
Brand names give status, gadgets, jealousy
Debt is its own fashion accessory
Money’s taken for granted in the need to express
Your superiority over those who have less
Keeping up with the Jones’ is just the beginning
If you’re not the envy of the town then you’re just not winning
Yet so many people with so little to their name
A life without luxury, but a life all the same
It really makes you wonder just how much you need
And what proportion of the rest, is really just greed
It’s a cruel game, this lottery of birth
That location alone determines your net worth
You don’t earn the right to do as you please
Rather you inherit a life of comparative ease
Why should I have been so lucky, born into wealth
Money, opportunity, love and my health
Surely with great fortune comes responsibility
To do more than just consume at every opportunity
Written July 2010, while travelling through Uganda, Rwanda and Kenya and observing the wealth divide.
Where ownership’s not just the law, but obsession
Brand names give status, gadgets, jealousy
Debt is its own fashion accessory
Money’s taken for granted in the need to express
Your superiority over those who have less
Keeping up with the Jones’ is just the beginning
If you’re not the envy of the town then you’re just not winning
Yet so many people with so little to their name
A life without luxury, but a life all the same
It really makes you wonder just how much you need
And what proportion of the rest, is really just greed
It’s a cruel game, this lottery of birth
That location alone determines your net worth
You don’t earn the right to do as you please
Rather you inherit a life of comparative ease
Why should I have been so lucky, born into wealth
Money, opportunity, love and my health
Surely with great fortune comes responsibility
To do more than just consume at every opportunity
Written July 2010, while travelling through Uganda, Rwanda and Kenya and observing the wealth divide.
Source of Wander
Sometimes you just fall in love with a place
Be it buildings, a people or a natural space
It’s hard to describe the source of appeal
It’s less an aesthetic than how it makes you feel
In Tibet there was a cliff above the Puncheon’s palace
In Cambodia, a people, wronged but without malice
Morocco had the desert and the camp therein
Croatia, an island, not without sin
The Thai’s gave me an escape and an awful tattoo
Israel taught me respect, and what was taboo
Egypt had grandeur, like I’d never seen
Each offered something new, these places I’ve been
But sitting in Uganda, overlooking the Nile
Beer in my hand, I can’t help but smile
Is this the way that my die has been cast?
To keep stumbling upon places more impressive than the last?
Written July 2010, on the banks of the Nile in Uganda, loving life and to be back on the road!
Be it buildings, a people or a natural space
It’s hard to describe the source of appeal
It’s less an aesthetic than how it makes you feel
In Tibet there was a cliff above the Puncheon’s palace
In Cambodia, a people, wronged but without malice
Morocco had the desert and the camp therein
Croatia, an island, not without sin
The Thai’s gave me an escape and an awful tattoo
Israel taught me respect, and what was taboo
Egypt had grandeur, like I’d never seen
Each offered something new, these places I’ve been
But sitting in Uganda, overlooking the Nile
Beer in my hand, I can’t help but smile
Is this the way that my die has been cast?
To keep stumbling upon places more impressive than the last?
Written July 2010, on the banks of the Nile in Uganda, loving life and to be back on the road!
No Place Like Home
Although with heavy heart, you were departed
No time to mourn, once the adventure got started
Realise what it is that I have left behind
Pay my respects, am not unkind.
Not sure why I don’t feel more upset
Maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet
Loved what we had, what I know I have left
But don’t feel the loss, am in no way bereft.
There is no ache in the pit of my core
None of the longing I thought was in store
I know I’m distracted, and maybe that’s it
But surely it should hurt, even a bit.
I think in my head I knew it was right
To call it a day when I got on that flight
We shared something special, but we’d run our race
It was time for a new life...in a new place.
Goodbye Oz
Written in July 2010, after leaving home for what I figured was going to be a while.
No time to mourn, once the adventure got started
Realise what it is that I have left behind
Pay my respects, am not unkind.
Not sure why I don’t feel more upset
Maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet
Loved what we had, what I know I have left
But don’t feel the loss, am in no way bereft.
There is no ache in the pit of my core
None of the longing I thought was in store
I know I’m distracted, and maybe that’s it
But surely it should hurt, even a bit.
I think in my head I knew it was right
To call it a day when I got on that flight
We shared something special, but we’d run our race
It was time for a new life...in a new place.
Goodbye Oz
Written in July 2010, after leaving home for what I figured was going to be a while.
Andy’s Gone with Cattle by Henry Lawson
Our Andy’s gone to battle now
‘gainst drought, the red marauder:
Our Andy’s gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.
He’s left us in dejection now;
Our thoughts with him are roving;
It’s dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.
Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?
Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the darling.
Poor Aunty’s looking thin and white;
And Uncle’s cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.
Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the banks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover.
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant ‘twill bring us Andy.
Not mine, but wow, what a beautiful Australian poem, discovered and given to me by my mum.
‘gainst drought, the red marauder:
Our Andy’s gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.
He’s left us in dejection now;
Our thoughts with him are roving;
It’s dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.
Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?
Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the darling.
Poor Aunty’s looking thin and white;
And Uncle’s cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.
Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the banks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover.
And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant ‘twill bring us Andy.
Not mine, but wow, what a beautiful Australian poem, discovered and given to me by my mum.
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