What the?

July 31, 2004 by  
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The following are a few poems I wrote, mostly in 2002, when I had a certain urge to ‘express’ myself on paper. It hasn’t happened a lot since then, and I’d say the most recent of these was probably written early 2003. I put them here because I want a permanent record and, if I write any more, I’m likely to post them here so why not put down what I’ve done so far? I was going to hide them away at the beginning of the blog… Obviously I haven’t, and I’m still not sure why.

Missing Person
Accounted For
Beautiful Rain
Heart’s Abode
Tropical Recollection


July 31, 2004 by  
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I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t want to know.
How do I make sense of all these
Ideas going through my head?
A myriad of jumbled words, translations, thoughts,
Experiences. Do they mean anything
At all? All somehow related with an
Indecipherable brainstormed spiderweb diagram.
Bombarded constantly by my minds own
Agenda to seek the truth. The word itself
Instantly conjures hundreds of avenues to be pursued. Struck
Dumb with the enormity of information presented and
Discarded for new so rapidly
Conscious thought alone cannot follow the
Path to conclusion. If I don’t understand myself,
How can I explain my logic to others?
I want to talk about it.
I want to know.
But who can understand?

I think this may have actually been written sometime in 2001. I’m not sure if I can explain it, which is kind of the point of the poem. Suffice to say, I have a hard time focusing on one idea. There’s never just one solid, concrete direction to take in thought process, and my mind sometimes feels like it’s spinning out of control trying to remember all the possibilities that came up so I can go back and think about them later. I’ll leave it there before I get into it.
What’s with all the poems?


July 31, 2004 by  
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You used to make me so happy.
What happened between us woman?
Now contempt replaces joy. Once
A smile, now a fleeting glance, your
Jokes now make me cringe,
Laughter, replaced by silence.

Silence. Woman, this isn’t what
I desired, affectionate misery. Why did
You push so hard? This isn’t what
I had in mind, your demands of
Unrequited love. What made
You want to test my affection?

Test? A TEST? All it has done is
Turned me away. From you. From love.
Your experiment result indicates
Only yourself. If my love must be
Tested, yours cannot be trusted…

I wrote this when I’d been going out with a girl for about 9 or 10 months. The relationship at that time was really on edge, and no, I wouldn’t say this poem really helped that. It wasn’t intended to express my feelings to her – more of a personal release – but she ended up seeing it (we lived together at the time). It would have been written sometime between February and April 2002.
What’s with all the poems?

Beautiful Rain

July 31, 2004 by  
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Teeming, pouring, drenching
Rain. Heavy, fat drops.
Rain you want to stand in.
Rain you want to drink.
Head tilted, mouth open, arms wide
Bring the rain so sweet. I want to
Run, dance, kick, splash! But
I can’t get outside. So I
Watch, and listen to, the
Beautiful rain.

Also written at Brisbane Airport while walking down the concourse, to catch the flight to Cairns I think… Anyway, all glass on both sides, and outside it was absolutely bucketing down. It was a little surreal, putting my hand on the glass and feeling the raindrops hitting the other side, combined with the muffled sound – trying to imagine being out in it. I can still remember being the only person in sight, just standing in a long empty concourse, looking out at a few planes on the tarmac. It was peaceful.
What’s with all the poems?

Tropical Recollection

July 31, 2004 by  
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Large raindrops fall
Softly from the sky. Their
Dappled rhythm slaps
Broad green tropical leaves.
I remember it now.
Dawn not yet broken, the
Looming clouds silently hold back the
Sun. Just a little longer, before
Cool rain turns to dripping steam.
Fern, mangrove and palm
Soak up the temperate reprieve.
Queensland comes rushing back.

This one was written at Brisbane Airport in September 2001, about a week after the 9/11 hijackings. I’d just arrived from the US after being away since May 1999 and was heading up to Cairns to surprise my mum for her 60th birthday. She didn’t even know I was in the country, so it was a pretty big surprise :) That’s got not much to do with the poem though. I was standing outside the domestic terminal next to the taxi rank, looking at palms and wet, luscious grass. I don’t think I’d seen so much green in all my time in Iowa.
What’s with all the poems?

Missing Person

July 31, 2004 by  
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My life. A boat,
Drifting over the ocean,
Meandering towards an unknown
Destination. There is a port,
Somewhere. I don’t know
It’s location, or even if
I’m going in the right
Direction. The waves push me
Where they will. I fight to
Control my vessel. How can I
Steer a boat when I don’t know
Where I want it to go? Who is
The wind? What do I call the waves?
They try to direct me, but
I reject them. I try to make
My own way, and get lost. Somewhere
I left my life behind. And I
Can’t go back and get it.

I’m not sure when I wrote this. It was at a period when I felt particularly helpless, and definitely before I became a X’n. Missing Person’s follow-up, Accounted For, was needed after I became a X’n and was written with joy and certainty, as opposed to the confusion and lack of direction that led to this poem.
What’s with all the poems?

Accounted For

July 31, 2004 by  
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My life. A boat,
Plowing through the ocean,
Steaming towards a promised
Destination. There is a port,
Where You will greet me.
I know its location, and I
Fight to stay on course.
You are my direction.
You are the wind.
You are the waves.
Always I felt your hand, guiding,
Nudging, pushing, shoving. But
I went my own way. In
My little dinghy I tried
To steer against the sea of
Your love. How could I reject it?
I cannot make my own way, or
I am lost. You are my direction.
I have left a life behind.
I will not go back and get it.

I’m not quite sure when I wrote this, but I really felt the need to answer Missing Person. Things had changed so much after I became a X’n. My life took maybe not a whole new direction but definitely a whole new focus. It would have been written after October 2002, but I’m not sure exactly when.
What’s with all the poems?

Heart’s Abode

July 31, 2004 by  
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Wet season. Dry Season. Coconut
Palm beaches and tall grass
Dancing across the rugged
Highlands. Home?
Burning summer. Brisk July. Heavy
Heat, rolling surf and the
Shock of frost at dawn in
Queensland. Home?
July furnace. Frozen winter. White,
Howling blizzard. Green cornstalks
Whisper by straight-shot highways of
Iowa. Home?
Lonely without. Joyful within. My
Life is for You. Always
There, is the grace and love of
Jesus. Home unceasing.

This was most likely written around Xmas 2002 or early 2003. As an MK (missionary kid), there was always thought, and discussion, about where you really felt ‘home’ was. It’s a hard thing to define, but since becoming a X’n it seems much less important. That’s what this was about.

The ‘Highlands’ refers to Papua New Guinea, where I was for about seven years of my life, but haven’t been back since I was thirteen. The ‘frost at dawn in Queensland’ is not a regular event, hence the shock when it happened because that meant it was really cold!
What’s with all the poems?

coconut coconutter Coconut, coconutter, coconuter, cocconuter, cocconutter, cocconut, cocconutt, I am David, NASA Coconut Spaceman, watch me dance, Philippiness Coconuter, Super big coconuts

Monkey See, Monkey Do

July 31, 2004 by  
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UN see, UN do.

Nothing, that is. US ambassador to the UN, John Danforth gives in to the security council and its desire to watch people die. Harsh? Well then ACT! And what is with the Arab League? They say a sufficient time-frame is needed for the Sudanese government to comply. You order people to stop attacks. They stop.

One of the things John Danforth said:

We don’t want to impose sanctions on Sudan, we want Sudan to be prosperous

Never mind Darfur and it’s dead, starving and terrorised people. As long as the country is prosperous.

I know I keep throwing in links, but if anyone really cares to know some good background, Robert Corr has done a great post on Sudan. It’s very informative; that is, quite the opposite of most of what you’ll get here.

Case in Point

July 30, 2004 by  
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A couple of things happened today.

  1. I went to Centrelink and changed to Austudy. The lady I see is nice enough, but has no heart…
  2. Went to the garage and picked up my fixed car
  3. completed my tax return

None of that is very interesting except that my car just needed new points (but they also did timing and regapped spark plugs…). Still not interesting… but if I’d known that I could have done it myself. Instead I paid a mechanic $40. He actually never called me and said, “This is what it needs, want me to go ahead with it?” Then I could have politely declined, snuck in in the middle of the night, done it myself and drove my car away… Well, actually I probably couldn’t have. Thanks Mr Mechanic dude.

I’m getting Athens fever. Evidenced by an increased heart-rate due to the excitement of seeing the SBS coverage program (I haven’t even looked at Seven yet). This is followed by a cold sweat of fear about the conflict in attaining an education, while at the same time watching every minute of Australia at the Olympics. This goes in cycles and includes a mental rescheduling of my entire life around night-shift sleep patterns…

Sport is not everything, sport is not everything…..sigh.

Strike a Poseur

July 30, 2004 by  
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In all vanity, I have put a pic of me on here to show off my new watch.


That’s right, it’s a watch! It’s cheap, but it’s what I need. It’s not just that I’m easily amused (I am), but I’ve been wearing a heavy, good quality watch for such a long time. I’m happy to now have something that I don’t need to worry about getting wet or scratched, I can go running with it, and it just looks like a cord bracelet… It’s actually soft hollow elastic, so it doesn’t dig in either.

Thanks sis.

Serious blogging? bah. Update: It’s also waterproof! I’ll give you the inside info… $10 at the post office.

What are they saying?

July 28, 2004 by  
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This was on TV news tonight. A Brisbane taxi driver was killed by a single punch to the head from a 15-year-old. The youth was sentenced in court today.

Each broadcast mentioned he was 15 years old at the time of killing the taxi driver. Additional information by channel:

  • Nine: height and weight (over 6′ and 120kg+)
  • ABC: no additional description
  • Seven: Islander (they gave his actual country of origin; I won’t, even though the effect is essentially the same)

Seven gave no description of the kid’s size, simply that he was an Islander, while Nine made no mention of race and ABC was content with giving his age only. I didn’t see Ten.

I couldn’t believe it when I heard that on Seven. While viewers may have questions as to how a 15-year-old could kill a taxi driver with a single punch to the head, surely a description of his size would have sufficed. To simply describe him as Islander is irresponsible at best…

What would Seven have me believe, that it’s not because he was a large kid that the single punch killed the taxi driver, but rather it’s because he’s an Islander that the single punch killed the taxi driver? I wasn’t impressed at all.

She’s Our Link to Terror?

July 28, 2004 by  
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This was yesterday’s Herald Sun front page, an Australian tabloid. Actually, this is a different front page than what I saw in the newsagent in Brisbane today. With this one it’s obvious Big Brother winner Trevor is not the link to terror (that’s the actual story). He’s boxed into his own piece, most people recognise him, and there’s a mini-headline, “$1 mill and a bride too”

The front page I saw, was instead a bust shot, of a smiling anglo-saxon girl with a bird on her shoulder. There was no headline, no boxed outline defining it as a separate story, no additional bold text alerting to the fact that it was in any way separate from the blaring headline.

I thought, “Really? She’s OUR LINK TO TERROR?!” I was intrigued. It wasn’t until I picked it up that I saw that, no, this was Olympic swimmer Brooke Hanson. Either a good ploy to get people interested, as I was, or somebody just in a hurry. Mind you, smiling white anglo saxon girl with bird on shoulder OUR LINK TO TERROR, makes a much more interesting story.


July 28, 2004 by  
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pop, pop, *BANG*

And with that, my 82 Toyota Corolla came to a sputtering halt. It’s been having trouble ever since I got back into Brisbane Friday night. Over the weekend I bought some special tape to cover a fairly decent-sized hole in the exhaust pipe. The heat “welds” it to the pipe. All well and good, except that I’ve had trouble starting the car since putting it on, and before yesterday’s demise, it seemed to be running worse than when the tape wasn’t on there. So losing a car isn’t the best situation to be in, but it’s not all bad.

Things to be thankful for?

  • Somehow it made the 12 hour drive from Sydney to Brisbane last Friday with a hole the size of a 50-cent piece in the exhaust pipe.
  • I had just left a second interview that I can tentatively say I have a part-time job because for, hopefully because it will be needed to pay for the car.
  • It happened at the entrance to Sir Fred Schonell Drive, so I was able to roll it into the Caltex servo on one side of the road and leave it there, then come back last night and simply push it across the road to the Shell garage to get it looked at sometime this week.
  • And I don’t desperately need a car, so I’m not freaking out about it.

Now I need to go do my tax.


July 27, 2004 by  
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Both in The Australian.

Mark Steyn: Blame the UN cheerleaders [July 26, 2004] when the genocide in Darfur has come and gone.

From The Sunday Times: Darfur’s demons spoiling for a fight [July 27, 2004]

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