My life is good when compared to many others so many poor souls in the big World out there
And many poor people live in wealthy Countries poor people as we know do live everywhere
Those arrogant people who talk of life's choices are people who do tend to generalize
That people are born to poor and disadvantaged parents are things they do not seem for to realize
The gap between the haves and the have nots keep widening the rich getting richer does seem to be true
To be born in a poor suburb to very poor parents to any child hardly does seem a fair due
In the refugee camps of the World millions of the Homeless and Stateless poor people without any place for to go
To as any Government does not seem to want them the numbers of the poor and the dispossessed seem to grow
In a World of many billions of people where the majority are poor or in dire poverty
I'm not one who should need cause for complaining as one of life's luckier people is me
I could have been born to pauperized parents I could have been born as a refugee
Those born into poverty do not have life choices though the arrogant with that would not agree
They themselves were born into opportunity a point that they do seem to miss
But despite a good education to life's facts they are ignorant and ignorance it can be bliss.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Post Bush Fires
Many houses burnt down and a reported 209 human beings and many animals dead
And for those where the fires were tough times are ahead
By the great fires that brought death dreams have been destroyed
And blackened desolation in the burnt countryside
Some of the fires by humans deliberately lit which makes it more sad
People who do such things far more dangerous than mad
Leave them to live in prison till they die there one day
At least they are safe there out of harm's way
Life cannot be returned to the lives that were lost
And their friends and relatives left to grieve them and to count the cost
As well as personally financially but yesterday's gone
They can either stay or re-build their homes or else move on
From the State of Victoria the news seems all bad
At the news of the huge fires that caused death and heartbreak one can only feel sad.
And for those where the fires were tough times are ahead
By the great fires that brought death dreams have been destroyed
And blackened desolation in the burnt countryside
Some of the fires by humans deliberately lit which makes it more sad
People who do such things far more dangerous than mad
Leave them to live in prison till they die there one day
At least they are safe there out of harm's way
Life cannot be returned to the lives that were lost
And their friends and relatives left to grieve them and to count the cost
As well as personally financially but yesterday's gone
They can either stay or re-build their homes or else move on
From the State of Victoria the news seems all bad
At the news of the huge fires that caused death and heartbreak one can only feel sad.
Action Does Speak Louder Than Words
Not much has changed for Australia's Indigenous people since Prime Minister Kevin Rudd sorry to them did say
For wrongs against them by Australian Governments the hurt of the past is slow to go away
We may never again have the Stolen Generation But many Indigenous Australians live in poverty
It is sad to think that many First Australians are doing it tough in the twenty first century
Rudd's sorry on behalf of the Government in itself was a good thing but something that hardly does seem good enough
For Australia's poor Indigenous people the forgotten have nots who are doing it tough
The sorry words have been said but Government action has not followed to the Stolen Generation compensation has not been paid
Action does speak louder than words it does seem though at reconciliation an attempt has been made
Many First Australians are poor in their own Land they never really did get a fair go
Financially many of them are poor people for Australia's financial good years they have nothing to show
Bureaucrats from their Lands have stripped the resources treated as second class citizens in their own Land
To honour them never a Public Holiday something that seems hard to understand
Not much of an improvement on the First Australians lot since Sorry Day this time last year
Whilst others are growing wealthier they are doing it tough at least that's how it does appear.
For wrongs against them by Australian Governments the hurt of the past is slow to go away
We may never again have the Stolen Generation But many Indigenous Australians live in poverty
It is sad to think that many First Australians are doing it tough in the twenty first century
Rudd's sorry on behalf of the Government in itself was a good thing but something that hardly does seem good enough
For Australia's poor Indigenous people the forgotten have nots who are doing it tough
The sorry words have been said but Government action has not followed to the Stolen Generation compensation has not been paid
Action does speak louder than words it does seem though at reconciliation an attempt has been made
Many First Australians are poor in their own Land they never really did get a fair go
Financially many of them are poor people for Australia's financial good years they have nothing to show
Bureaucrats from their Lands have stripped the resources treated as second class citizens in their own Land
To honour them never a Public Holiday something that seems hard to understand
Not much of an improvement on the First Australians lot since Sorry Day this time last year
Whilst others are growing wealthier they are doing it tough at least that's how it does appear.
On A Very Warm Day
The wind blows warm air and the brown dust is flying across the bare paddock in the sunny sky
Forty six degrees the warmest day of Summer and everywhere looking so bare and so dry
In the south of the Country the bush fires are raging fanned on by the warm breath of the strong breeze
It burns it's way through the dry and brown grasslands and it burns it's way through the bushes and trees
In it's pathway many cattle and sheep to the huge flames fall victim in the cruelest way possible they would have died
From a distance their corpses just black and invisible blend in the surroundings of the blackened countryside
The warm winds fan the flames in the dry and brown country that burns it's way to the shores of the great lake
Leaving behind a darkened countryside smelling strongly of burnout and burned out homes and sadness and heartbreak
Out there not a country for the vulnerable young or the old and infirm but for able bodied people in their life's prime
To rebuild their homes and to make a brand new start such a price they must pay for a pyromaniac's crime
The winds blow warm air in the dry and brown country on the warmest day for many a year
And further south of here a huge bush fire is raging such news that one would not prefer for to hear
When the weather temperatures soars over forty your best bet stay out of the oppressive heat
Sitting in the shade of a big tree with a bottle of clean drinking water in the park quite relaxed on a timber park seat.
Forty six degrees the warmest day of Summer and everywhere looking so bare and so dry
In the south of the Country the bush fires are raging fanned on by the warm breath of the strong breeze
It burns it's way through the dry and brown grasslands and it burns it's way through the bushes and trees
In it's pathway many cattle and sheep to the huge flames fall victim in the cruelest way possible they would have died
From a distance their corpses just black and invisible blend in the surroundings of the blackened countryside
The warm winds fan the flames in the dry and brown country that burns it's way to the shores of the great lake
Leaving behind a darkened countryside smelling strongly of burnout and burned out homes and sadness and heartbreak
Out there not a country for the vulnerable young or the old and infirm but for able bodied people in their life's prime
To rebuild their homes and to make a brand new start such a price they must pay for a pyromaniac's crime
The winds blow warm air in the dry and brown country on the warmest day for many a year
And further south of here a huge bush fire is raging such news that one would not prefer for to hear
When the weather temperatures soars over forty your best bet stay out of the oppressive heat
Sitting in the shade of a big tree with a bottle of clean drinking water in the park quite relaxed on a timber park seat.
An Old Land
Bordered by barbed wire fences and stone ditches paddocks stony and brown
Off of the road out of Colac on towards Camperdown
A Land that was old in the dinosaur time
The source of many a song and story and rhyme.
Long before the dark people from further north came
This was an old Country one without a name
They hunted and fished and had their corroborees
In the warm Summer days in the shade of the trees.
Where men never discovered gold, silver or oil
And too hard for the plough the stony brown soil
Brown paddocks much further than the eyes can see
Through Terang on towards Warrnambool by the sea.
Long before the birth of the first kangaroo
Koala, wombat, emu, kookaburra or cockatoo
Or long before the birth of gum or wattle tree
This was an old Land with an old history.
Off of the road out of Colac on towards Camperdown
A Land that was old in the dinosaur time
The source of many a song and story and rhyme.
Long before the dark people from further north came
This was an old Country one without a name
They hunted and fished and had their corroborees
In the warm Summer days in the shade of the trees.
Where men never discovered gold, silver or oil
And too hard for the plough the stony brown soil
Brown paddocks much further than the eyes can see
Through Terang on towards Warrnambool by the sea.
Long before the birth of the first kangaroo
Koala, wombat, emu, kookaburra or cockatoo
Or long before the birth of gum or wattle tree
This was an old Land with an old history.
That's How It Seems To Me
My wonder at my lack of knowledge does grow
The more I learn of life the less I Know I know
Of the World I live in suppose in my case ignorance is bliss
But then what one never had how can one ever miss?
But we learn something new from life every day
And on our life's journey we learn from mistakes on the way
Or we ought to learn perhaps I should say
As for our every mistake there is some price to pay
A lot of exploitive people in the big World out there
In every Nationality some crims their type live everywhere
As well as stealing from the rich they steal from those in poverty
But 'tis good to know their type are a minority
The more we know the less we know we know that's how it seems to be
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.
The more I learn of life the less I Know I know
Of the World I live in suppose in my case ignorance is bliss
But then what one never had how can one ever miss?
But we learn something new from life every day
And on our life's journey we learn from mistakes on the way
Or we ought to learn perhaps I should say
As for our every mistake there is some price to pay
A lot of exploitive people in the big World out there
In every Nationality some crims their type live everywhere
As well as stealing from the rich they steal from those in poverty
But 'tis good to know their type are a minority
The more we know the less we know we know that's how it seems to be
At least anyway that's how it seems to me.
Of Nature's First Lessons
I've heard the blue tits young chirp in the hollow log
And I've heard the curlew pipe o'er Shannaknock bog
And the bluebells, snowdrops and primroses I've seen
In Spring blooming on the ditch of the pebbly bohreen.
The black and white magpie in the gray dawn of the day
Chatters in the grove by the hill far away
Where I learned my first lessons from Nature many decades ago
In the place of the rook, the jackdaw and gray crow.
Where my love for Nature did begin to grow
The dark brown river bird dipper with breast as white as snow
On a rock midst the rapids where the babbling waters did flow
By the scratchy tones of his song him I got to know.
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
And the clock on my life it keeps ticking on
But of Nature's first lessons the memories remain
And the birds in the wood in my thoughts sing again.
And I've heard the curlew pipe o'er Shannaknock bog
And the bluebells, snowdrops and primroses I've seen
In Spring blooming on the ditch of the pebbly bohreen.
The black and white magpie in the gray dawn of the day
Chatters in the grove by the hill far away
Where I learned my first lessons from Nature many decades ago
In the place of the rook, the jackdaw and gray crow.
Where my love for Nature did begin to grow
The dark brown river bird dipper with breast as white as snow
On a rock midst the rapids where the babbling waters did flow
By the scratchy tones of his song him I got to know.
Since then many Seasons have come and have gone
And the clock on my life it keeps ticking on
But of Nature's first lessons the memories remain
And the birds in the wood in my thoughts sing again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)