Willow Manor Ball 2010

Stop Press!
Social Butterfly Helen Chooses man over myth!


Of all Valentino's and rakes,
She first chose Jude Law! Goodness sakes!
But someones said; "Woonie!
Don't be a loonie!
He just doesn't have what it takes!"

Now that has been decided guys, take look at my partner and weep!

We must agree that Woonie looks absolutely gorgeous in her lovely aqua, er murky, er red dresses.
That means three dances I must have with Helen, Blogland's top supporter of poets. But I would love to dance with anyone else who likes Count Basie.

But, What the... ! Oh dear! That damned Jude law must have been so miffed, he stole my clothes!

How could I possibly lose
My ball suit and tie, I accuse,
Jude Law, sneaky dude.
Now I'll have to come nude
'Cause all I can find are my shoes!



This a recent photo.
Well, I acquired it recently from here




I just hope I do not offend anyone but let's face it.
With a body like mine who'd want to hide it!

Get your dance card filled now at the Willow Manor Ball

Magpie 34

Choosing the light of your life.














Don’t decide which one to pick,
Until you know what makes them tick.
This one will fail.
Just like your male,
It can’t perform with no wick!


Pic and prompt at Magpie Tales

Chivalry is not dead, just sick.

Escape from Chivalry.










The king was in his counting house,
Counting out his money;
The queen was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey.

The Princess in her pink boudoir
Was trying on her dresses
When in came brother Ced-er-ic,
Full lips and blonded tresses.

He slipped his clothes off quick-er-ly
And ‘fore she could resist
Her newest lacy bodice was
Adorning Cedric’s chest.

Next, he took her flowing gown
And slipped it o’er his head.
Then her rich embroidered cape.
“It’s just not fair!” He said.

A silver tear escaped his eye,
While slipping on her pumps
“The leather, tin and mail we wear
Reduces us to frumps!”

Next he donned her feathered hat
While gazing at the glass.
And smiled in satisfaction
As he whispered, “You’ve got class!”

Then, turning on his patent heel
He called down for a horse.
“Side saddle, silver stirrups
And it must be grey, of course!”

So off they rode into the sun
The stable boy and he,
Holding hands so tenderly
In love, for all to see.

So over hill and dale they rode
Until Kings Cross they spied
And there they lived in happiness
Until the day they died.

Note: Kings Cross is the Gay Haven of 'Sinney', Australia.

Jingle's serious Poetry Challenge can be found here

A long day in politics.

Background (if you need it and are interested).

Recent election.
Neither major party won a majority in either house.
One Green and two Independents agreed to join Julia Gillard and Labor in a loose coalition to form a minority government, giving them a majority of two.

During negotiations, all stakeholders agreed that stability was important and the fact the Greens would hold the ‘balance of power’ in the Senate when they took their seats in July was important.
It is complicated, but that swung the Independents. There was more chance of any legislative program being realised if Labor ruled and most agree there is little philosophical difference between the major parties anyway.

In a rare atmosphere of altruism, both Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott for the Conservatives, signed a statement they would provide ‘a pair’ for the Speaker to maintain the majority. (A pair is a long standing tradition that if a member is absent from the house for good reason, ie, cannot vote, the opposing party drops one vote for each absent member to maintain the balance thus avoiding frivolous motions of no confidence etc.)

But that was before the Independents decided to back Labor. Now, Abbott has welshed on that deal and furthermore, will not provide pairs for ministers (trade, foreign affairs, immigration etc) while they attend to duties overseas and it is not hard to imagine why.

Pressure is on from his backers in the big end of town to get him back into government at all costs. Climate change is back, as is paid maternity leave and a huge infrastructure agenda, all needing Federal money and increased taxes, some of which will be sourced from mining boom super profits. Now read on.

………………………………………………..

A long day in politics.

Imagined phone conversation between Tony Abbott and ‘Digger’ Pitt, mining magnate and major Liberal Party contributor, last week.






Brinnng-brinnng. Brinnng-brinnng. Brinnng…
“Abbott!”
“Tony, for Christ sake, what were you thinking?”
“Oh hello Digger, you’re not happy! What’s the problem?”
“Promising to pair the speaker at that stupid hug-in. Mate! That’s the problem! Can’t you see what you’ve done?”
“I can see you’re upset Digger, but we thought we’d win them over.”
“Well, you didn't! And now, if those bastards make it through to July, they link up with that shirt lifter Brown, we get the mining tax and there goes my effing profits!”
“Well, how was I to know? What the hell can I do now?”
“What? You’re asking me? Just get that bitch out! We need a new election before July or we’re stuffed!”
“With respect, Digger, it’s a bad look for me to go back on a promise, I…”
“Ha, ha, ha! Don’t shit me Tony. When did you not… paid maternity leave over your dead body, climate change is bunkum? Those two little doozies would have cost me a mint. But this is serious mate. We can’t pay a mining tax AND buy BHP Billiton!”
“But if I go back on that I’ll upset the independents more…”
“So? Just get me a new election and I’ll take care of them. With an Atheist in the lodge and a poofter running the Greens mate, we've got God on our side. I'll hit the media and you’ll win at a gallop!”
“But you’ll still have Greens in the Senate!”
“So they block and you get a double dissolution. Just get me an election and we’ll do the rest.”
“OK, Digger, leave it to me. I reckon I can bring her down.”
“Good boy Tony! Can I tell Rupert you’re on side?”
“Of course, always.”
“Thanks mate, we’ll be watching.”
Click!

Picture http://webecoist.com/2009/04/15/clean-coal-dirty-coal-plants/

Taliban Dancer 5 and 6 (Concluded)

Scene 5. At sea.









Sfx: Sea, old marine engine, wind, gulls.

Indonesian Skipper : Waheed! We have been sighted by a plane.
Waheed : Australian?
Skipper : I think so. We stop here and wait for the patrol boat.
Crewman : Wreck the engine now?
Skipper : Not yet. We may need to go further towards Christmas Island.
Karima : Tahmina! Come here and put your life jacket on!
Tahmina : (complaining) Mum… It’s too hot.
Waheed : (sternly) Put it on Tahmina. We are all putting them on. See?

Sfx: Plane passing overhead.

Tahmina : Are we sinking?
Karima : No, dear, but we will be getting onto another boat soon and you can’t swim.
Tahmina : Help me please, I want to wear a life jacket too!
Skipper : Here it comes. Smash the motor. Get ready with the sea cocks!
Crewman : Aye Skipper!
Sfx: Birds and sea for five seconds then hammering and breaking as high powered motor approaches.

Skipper : Sea cocks!
Crewman : Sea cocks open!

Sfx: High powered motor closes, cuts, then loud hailer.

Australian Officer : Ahoy fishing boat! You are in Australian waters. Go about now. This is a restricted area! I say go about!
Skipper : (yelling) We are sinking. Motor broken and planks sprung. SOS! SOS!
Crewman : You women! Start wailing now! (They do).
Tahmina : (crying) We’ll drown!
Officer : (yells over wailing and crying) Stand to, we are coming aboard!

Sfx: Outboard motors closing.

Officer : Stand back from the gunwales!

Sfx: Thump of inflatable against hull, outboards cut, boots on deck.

Tahmina : We are sinking! Help! We are sinking!
Waheed : Come with me Tahmina. Give me your hand. We jump in together. OK?
Tahmina : Mummy! Mummy!
Karima : I’m here, go with Daddy!
Officer : Stand back from the gunwales! Stand back! Do not jump!
Australian crew : Can’t get to the sea cocks sir, she’s going down in ten.

Sfx: Confused yelling and splashes as people jump into the water. Screams and crying children and demands from Australians to stay on board.

Tahmina : (screaming) Mummy! (coughing sea water) Mummy!


…………………………………………………….

Scene 6. Christmas Island

Immigration Officer: Name?
Waheed : Waheed.
I O : Papers?
Waheed : No papers.
I O : Why no papers, Waheed?
Waheed : Taliban raided my house, couldn’t go back for passports. They would kill us.
I O : Why would they kill you Waheed?
Waheed : My wife, Karima was running a school for girls, she was betrayed so we ran.
I O : So if you ran, Waheed, how did you pay people smugglers?
Waheed : We sold everything, including my shop land.
I O : You mean your shop?
Waheed : No, they burned my shop but I sold my land to Abdul Raheen.
I O : Yes, Waheed, we know about Mr Abdul Raheen. He seems to be buying up half of Afghanistan!
Waheed : We had no choice. It was sell or stay in Peshawar camp forever.
I O : Not forever Waheed, we do take people from Peshawar camp who wait their turn, but you, Waheed, are a queue jumper and will probably be sent back.
Waheed : Sir, if we had our passports we could have come by air for two thousand dollars and stayed on after our visas expired as most do. But we had to run with what we stood up in!
Karima : Sir, I am a school teacher. I speak English, Afghan, Iranian, Pakistani, Russian and some Hindi. I know I can make a contribution here but if we are sent back, Waheed and I will be dead in a week and my little girl here will have to become a whore and she is only ten years old. I beg you to understand what it was like for us there!
I O : OK Waheed, we will check on your bona fides through channels and meanwhile (mocking laugh) enjoy your stay.
Waheed : Thank you Sir, thank you!
Karima : Thank you Sir and our daughter thanks you!
Tahmina : No I don’t, I want to go to Australia and be a dancer like Lutfi!
I O : (laughing genuinely) And so you might young lady. Who is Lutfi? Is he a great Afghan dancer?
Waheed : No sir he is not. He is a little boy even younger than Tahmina who was taken by a Taliban chief to be his private plaything!
I O : (in the too hard basket) I am sorry to hear that. Next!


Fin.

Picture SMH

What real women want!

Odore Naturale













Aqua di Parma men’s cologne?
(That) gender bender feromone !
When you’re with me,
I pre-fer to be
Turned on by real testosterone!







Pepe, darling! What is that you're wearing?
Eau de sewer. Like it?
Oh yes, much nicer than your usual odeur du bumsquirt!
Grrrr! Lurve it when you speak French!

Prompt: Magpie Tales
Picture: Skunks

Flirting

Jingle Poetry Challenge










We dance around each other
like planets in orbit
Pulled and held by a gravity
We don’t understand.

But we do know
That if we ever touch
It will be the end
of innocence.

Image from Photobucket

Taliban Dancer 4 (continued)

Scene 4. Peshawar Refugee Camp.
Karima is alone in their tent, humming to heself.













Sfx: Camp sounds. Shouting off, crying, cooking pans clanging, child running, approaching.

Tahmina : Mummy, Mummy! Letter from Red Crescent! Mummy!
Karima : Here, Tahmina, give it to me. Thank you. Go find Daddy!
Tahmina : Daddy! (running) Daddy! (fading)

Sfx. Camp sounds for a few seconds.

Waheed : (running) What is it? (puffing) What’s wrong Karima? What’s wrong?
Tahmina : (running on) I found him, Mummy!
Karima : Waheed! Calm down! It’s a letter from Mahdi in Asadabad.
Waheed : (still puffing) Well, open it for God’s sake! Open it!
Karima : All right, all right Waheed, I just wanted you to be here. (tears open envelope, unfolds paper) Oh! Here’s money. (Hands to Waheeed, who counts it. She reads aloud).
Dear Waheed and Karima.
Your passports were gone and things are worse here now. The army set up a school and opened the hospital but Jabar came back and blew up the police station with half the men inside. Now they are grabbing every bit of cash they can and nobody is safe here. I sold all the carpets I could but nobody had any money so it all went cheap.
Jabar came back again and demanded to know why I was selling all your stock and beat me up. I told him I had already sent the money so he locked me in and burnt the shop, I smashed a window and got out with singed hair and I'm OK but that is all I can do for you my friends.
I just hope and pray you are OK and that this little bit of money gets to you.
Waheed : There’s less than a hundred thousand here. That’s not even two thousand US! Nowhere near enough.
Karima : How much do we need?
Waheed : Best price I could get was ten thousand Australian… nine thousand US. That gets us onto a fishing boat out of Indonesia.
Karima : What about my jewellery? It’s no use to me here, I can’t wear any of it.
Waheed : I hate to do that, but I guess we can’t stay here the rest of our lives…
Tahmina : There’s more in the letter, Daddy.
Karima : (reads on) There is more bad news. Qasem has taken Lutfi. I warned him to stay with the other children and why, but he said Qasem was nice to him and he wanted to go. Goodness knows what he was promised.
Then a lot of money came by messenger, enough for the rest of us to get out. There was no message but it must be payment for Lutfi so I can’t use it. I am sure he will escape from Qasem and I must be here when he does.
Go in peace my friends
Mahdi.

Tahmina : Why did Lutfi go with Qasem?
Waheed : He was lured away to be…
Karima : Darling, he wanted to be a dancer. That is what some boys do. It seems it was his choice.
Tahmina : Then why is Mahdi unhappy about it? Why don’t they leave and come here too?
Waheed : It’s complicated, Tahmina. One day you’ll understand. (stands) I will get Abdul Raheem to come over. Get out the jewellery. (leaves).
Tahmina : Mummy, I’d like to be a dancer like Lutfi and wear pretty clothes and learn music and…
Karima : Come here, my beautiful girl and help me with the jewellery so we can show it to Abdul Raheem when he comes
Tahmina : Can I have your jewellery when you die?
Karima : (laughing) Nothing would make me happier, my dear, but we must sell it now so we can leave here and go somewhere nice.
Tahmina : But I like it here. It’s better than Asadabad. Those men aren’t here and you don’t hide yourself in that silly burqua and I like my friends at school here, I…
Waheed : (off) Karima, can you make tea? Sit here Abdul Raheen.
Abdul Raheen : Thank you. Who is this charming young lady, Waheed?
Tahmina : I am Tahmina. Who are you?
Abdul : Such an outspoken young lady, aren’t you?
Waheed : Please excuse Tahmina, Abdul Raheen, she is very young and knows no better…
Abdul : No, Waheed, I am not offended. On the contrary, in this country women can be leaders and most of us like it that way. What do you want to do with your life, young lady?
Tahmina : I want to be a dancer like Lutfi.
Abdul : That is a nice thing to do. Who is Lutfi? Is he a great dancer?
Waheed : Ahem… She doesn’t know what she is talking about, Abdul Raheen. Karima! Is that tea ready?
Karima : Coming! Is Abdul Raheen here?
Abdul : Hello Karima, you have a very smart daughter here, she should do well where you’re going. I’ve been there and I know.

Sfx: Tea cup clatter, then tea is poured as dialogue continues.

Abdul : Thank you. So you need more money.
Waheed : Yes, we need at least ten thousand Australian to get us there and we have only two… and Karima’s jewellery.
Abdul : All right, I will give you the best price I can. Let me see it.

Sfx: Clinking of bangles and rings as Abdul handles each piece.

Abdul : I can take all this but I can’t give you more than two for it.
Waheed : But that’s not enough...
Abdul : I know, I know, I haven’t finished.
Tahmina : Do you pay a lot of money for a dancer like Lutfi? Qasem paid a lot for Lutfi!
Karima : Shhh! Tahmina, shut up!
Abdul : (laughing) How much do you think you are worth, young lady?
Waheed : (Angrily) Abdul Raheem! This is not what I brought you here for. There is no way…
Abdul : (laughing more) No no no! Waheed! You misunderstand. Your daughter is charming and I would like to see such a lovely young lady get her wish. So I have another proposition for you. Do you still own your shop?
Waheed : (still suspicious) Well yes, what’s left of it!
Abdul : OK, I’ll pay you six thousand US for the shop.
Karima : But there is no shop. Jabar burnt the shop. There’s nothing there!
Abdul : Waheed. You can’t burn land.
Waheed : But it’s worthless, you can’t be serious!
Abdul : My friends, Asadabad has many thousands of years of history and please God, one day the Taliban will be gone and it will be rich again. I can wait.
Waheed : (now calm) I was hoping to go back myself some day, but I’m happy to sell it to you, Abdul Raheem. More tea?

Continued.

...........................................................

Pic:http://blogs.sun-sentinel.com/click/2009/06/refugees-of-pakistan.html

For Sam Liu

The Blind Men and the Elephant.










It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach'd the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, -"Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he,
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Then, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL.

So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

John Godfrey Saxe's ( 1816-1887)

Pic. Wikipedia. Mural in Malaysia.

Diabolica

Hollow diabolo,
squeezes future
into now.

Momentary awareness
gone to mem'ry
too soon.



Look up Magpie Tales for more poetic fun.