20 January, 2010


In the trulky burning, turning,
With the hulky honing, stoning,
There the pulky mixed it, sixed it,
To the bulky journing, lourning.
Well the hulky gored it, moored it,
At the wulky pouring, shoring,
Up to pulky shaven, haven,
With the bulky smoke 'em, poke 'em.

Scuttle by the wriggling waves,
Shuttle by the lapping caves,
Hop on grulk to reach the peak
During which the mulk will week.
Case by case the drulk will haul,
Heaving to the newest shoal,
So that Entrest will 'midst rate cake,
Another day, cash flow bake.

"Holla!" calls the prickly ulk,
To the jumping jellybean sulk.
"If you don't bring back my leaven, steaven,
Tomorrow I'll meet you even, reaven!"

Hurriedly the sulk, he mopes
To pace up picking the lulky ropes.
Perceiving all the milky toppings,
He also gathers creamy droppings.

All this in the trulky turning,
When the rulk is still a-burning,
And the hulky still be stoning,
Newer bladders for the honing.
The pulky by the wulky mixes still
Sixing crickets to the schill,
So that Entrest will bake and cake
All the ulk will ever make.

15 January, 2010


In the murky under-lair
Where the rubbish heaps all share
The shadows of the buildings tall,
Towering high above them all,
Overlords chink with bling
While those they dislike fling
Into the slimy pits of goo
Like an old unwanted shoe.

Non-descript children of non-descript workers
Study light and work as shirkers
Knowing that their chance is small
To reach the upper level call;
Yet hoping that mid class will come
To choose one child to leave the rum
And achieve a life where sunlight breathes
And wind can rustle 'midst the trees.

In the dark and spludgey streets
Where one turns not and greets
And giant water urns roll churning
Supplying little lights still burning,
A boarder hovers silently
Others walk by stridently.

If one looks up
They see a cup
Of the sky above them
But in the night
See zooming light
Amidst the winding duction.

14 January, 2010


This isn't about oranges. It's about lemons. Then again, it's not about lemons either, but how the earwig hid in the plum and the ants ate the nectarine. Perhaps it's not about that either. Anyway, I'll ask the canary what he meant and let you know... Well, it had nothing to do with him. That helped.

Admittedly, I have tried and failed to post regularly. Self-discipline! It's hard. Everyday? Every two days? Every week? Every month? Failed, failed, failed and so far so good. Let's try to keep it improving shall we? But then, this isn't about the blog.
It's... wait, let me ask the cat for clarification... he says it's about the hairs. Keeping yourself clean by licking and scratching when you're itchy. It's sure not what I meant.

The steak went marching today. Albeit, it was the hand-made noodle's fault, because they were being too smothering, but it marched right out the door in a huff. Apparently, the knife couldn't cut it. So guess what? I didn't run after it. I knew it would come back once the cat remembered that he only ate chicken or fish, or fish or chicken, or just fish, or just chicken... if only he would make up his mind.

The chickens enjoyed my last pancake. Why? After three days of being the last pancake left on the plate, it decided to attract more attention by sliming around. Don't ask me. That's how pancakes dance. Honestly. But it did teach me something during it's larval batter-y stage. Puffy pancakes, pikelets, flat pancakes, crepes and crumpets are all very similar. I don't know about waffles, I've never made them before and anyway, I can't eat waffles. My runaway rabbit was named Waffles.

This is my most recent, made-up pancake recipe with rough ingredients:
About 7 heaped tablespoons of self-raising flour
4 large eggs
Maybe 4 level tablespoons of white sugar or something similar
Milk to taste
1 and a half tablespoons of vegetable oil

After mixing all the ingredients until they were smooth, I discovered the batter too thick. I had discovered how to make super-puffy pancakes that were very similar to crumpets. I added more milk and discovered that you can still use self-raising flour in a pancake mixture to make flat pancakes, albeit very holey ones - like flat crumpets. If I swirled the mixture in the pan quickley and let the air bubbles in my batter dissipate, I had myself very flat, crispy-ish crepes. If I made myself a flat pancake using this same mixture, but added more batter on top as it cooked, I had myself a half-sized crumpet. Pikelets are too easy. Use little dollops of batter and don't swirl them round the pan.

See? These different foods are all actually the same thing, just in different sizes, shapes and thicknesses.

12 January, 2010

tumble dry

Diamond drops
Like falling sand
On a day
of iced demand.
Baking dust
and stir-less dirt,
Panting mice
and limp hung shirt.

Washing in the sun fast dry
Grass blades in the shade still fry.
Soaking things hung up high
Despite the clouds that draw nigh.

Wind picks up
Flings all things far
Pegs flicked off
Like so much blah.
Billowing sheets
'neath marching tap
and the sky
beats out a rap.

Run and gather
Under the weather
Undo all tether
Before the rather.

08 January, 2010

word pictures... of a sort...

I wonder if anyone else finds certain words look like certain pictures... Take for example the word 'blog'...

Blog is like a frog in a bog on a lily pad or a smooth roundish object with a sticky-outy thing on its head (that's the 'g') either in or floating on the surface of a hole ('o') with a big leaf ('B') on a stem ('l'). Doesn't it look like a frog on a lilypad or some sort of big leafy thing on a stalk in a pond type thing?

How about the word 'post'?
P - The logo of Australia Post and the shape of many letter boxes (the ones outside peoples' houses), also 'p' for 'to place' something
O - A hole or wide open empty mouth
S - the 'ss' sound of the 's' relating to the word 'send' or 'snake', implying to me that there is potential movement.
T - a plate on a stick, or rafters, or two pieces of wood stuck together firmly... to me 'T' implies a sort of stability and propping or holding up of something. It also reminds me of letter boxes.

Post - altogether makes a picture of a postbox (big red one that people post letters in) standing next to a letterbox, competing for people to place something that has travelled from elsewhere into their 'mouths'. Once they have received their letter/message, that letter/message is considered home... as it they aren't going to go anywhere else (unless, of course, the letter came to the wrong address, as so often happens).

07 January, 2010

trickle by

When the sun shineth hot
And the concrete's a-baking,
If you stop and listen
You'll hear the pant of animals making.
From shade to shade you
Trickle by
Hoping for a breeze
Whilst down your face,
Your neck,
Your back,
Sweaty droplets race.

Oh, Melbourne summer,
How cool you are
When your temperature grabs the 40s.
It's the time all
Air cons fail
And the floor's
As warm as a shawl.

Oh, Melbourne summer,
Those restless nights
Of 30 and above
Where bed sheets crumpled
Soak on the floor
Amidst the dripping heights.

Then the sky it darkens,
Like night time in midday.
A thunderous boom,
A split-sec lit sky
And torrents flood house by.

Trickle by
The thunderstorms
That cool the hottest day.
'Til you shiver from the ice
The hail and its vice.
Gardens drenched in ankle deep
Storm drains overflow.

Why, oh why
Did I sigh
For the storms
To cool change bring?

Oh, Melbourne summer,
You can be a bummer,
When the meteorologists can't predict
Whether your day's weather will be mild
Or a day full of extremes.