Good bye ScoMo, Trump, Macron, Elizabeth, Netanyahu and the Pope elect.
This year will be the fall of you, my prediction is correct.
We the people call you out and demand that you step down
Your ponzi thieving system is going to be torn down.
An Illuminati puppet with an invisible hand up bum,
A troll to scare the people but only fooling some,
Prime Minister or President or Premier of the land
Re presenting oligarchic interests your deception is not so grand
We the people call you out, you’re Empires all will fall
For your fear wars don’t cut it so we’ll tear down your Southern Wall
Racist figures sit in Towers, Emperors without clothes
Psychopathic sociopaths everybody knows
The truth is that you are human and no different to us all
Not God’s elect, Not Elite nor Illuminated at all
Your hoarding and your greed is an obsessive schism
Turn upside down your pyramid scheme, anarcho-syndaclism.
Redistribute all the wealth of banks and corporations
Share the common lands, no land ownership in Nations.
Guarantee that everyone has a home and healthy food
Free energy for all and health care that is good.
But you corporate office puppets you’d better listen here
Corrupt political leaders , this will be your last year.
Your representative democracies aren’t re presenting me
Destroy the system and create Direct Social Democracy
The Banjo Paterson Bush Poetry Festival in Orange, New South Wales begins on the 17th of February. There are a number of events happening throughout Orange and the surrounding district until the 24th of February 2019.
Events include The Banjo Paterson Bush Poetry Competition which I am entering a poem titled “Our Darling is Dying”. There is also Rotary Brekky and Poetry on the Pavers as well as Poetry in the Pub featuring the Poet’s Brawl. In the poets brawl, poets have one minute to deliver any original poem, bush, slam, rhyming, non-rhyming but must use both the words “Banjo” and “Orange”.
“Andy Banjo Player” is the poem I have written for the “poets brawl”, tell me what you think in the comments.
Andy played a banjo with an orange and he played it very bad
It made a juicy squishy sound and it drove his mother mad
Orange juice went everywhere and pith and peel too
The ants came by the millions and the fruit flies flew
He played with so much gusto and a lot of zeal
Grated it and juiced, he was left with orange peel
Only when he ran out of juice did Andy’s playing stop
So he ran out to a fruit stall and bought a kilo from the shop
Playing “Orange Crush”, the song from REM
Played every single orange till he’d juiced all of them
Bottled it and marketed it and only told the truth
Under the trade make of Andy’s Banjo Orange Juice
Copyright 2019
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Sitting at home this Sunday morning and my partner says something that sounds like “mermaid juice.” OK, I think to myself, there is something funny about that and I begin to write.
Mermaid Juice
“I think I’d like a mermaid juice.” The great white shark said
So she blended up a mermaid and the mermaid juice was red.
“I was feeling pretty funny because I ate a clown
But mermaid juice has fixed my tummy since I drank it down
Now I’ve had my mermaid juice, I want some toast and cheese
But I can’t leave the water, can you call Uber please?
I’d really like a sandwich on some bread that’s brown
I love Uber eats when they bring food down
Thanks for bringing my food but I’m not a fan of bread
She opened up her mouth, bit off the Uber drivers head
Great White Shark was happy with good food in her tummy
An uber driver and a clown and mermaid juice so yummy
There is one more thing, I want some more to eat
So she called the cops and ate some raw pig meat.
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In my daily morning meditations, I often contemplate the noise in the silence and have never found a truely quiet place. I’ve spent the last few years travelling and in the bush after living in the city in Brisbane for eleven years. In the bush the noise of the insects, frogs and birds can be almost deafening especially on a hot summer’s day when the cicadas are all singing in harmony. However the city is totally different, at 4am in the morning there is a silence of the natural world due to the loss of biodiversity in the city but the unnatural sounds are there. A motor hum, a buzz, a ping, wi-fi, creaky door, squeaky floor, drone, drone, drone, drone, drone, drone. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE NOISE
The silence is within you. Silence is an awarerness of noise.
The sounds of silence
Quieten your mouth and just sit on down
Hear the silence is filled full of noise
With an awareness of all that goes on around
Distant school ground, hear yelling boys
A barking dog, birdsong, and a car driving by
A cricket, a frog, dripping tap
In silence there’s noise of the wind in the sky
The words in my head are a rap
I turned off the tap and dripping noise ceased
A truck’s airbrake gave a loud groan
A trickling creek, the waves on the beach
Loud music in somebody’s home
But silence is just an awareness of noise
When sitting in peace and in quiet
I found silence in me and outside is the noise
Even in the middle of the night.
Copyright 2019 James Arthur Warren
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In July 2016 I was travelling through western New South Wales when my by bus Atlantis broke a fuel line. I repaired the bus with the help of a local earthmoving business. I got on my way the next day and had a blow out ten kilometers out of town.
The desert was green from a few recent showers but the Darling River was low and I was not leaving Wilcannia until I had replaced the tyre in Broken Hill. It so happened that the Barkindji mob and some other local had organised a protest to stop traffic on the only bridge over the Darling River for half an hour, every hour, all weekend.
During my stay in Wilcannia, I met the kindest and most welcoming people in all of my travels but I also met a people struggling to hold on to their traditions and way of life because the Darling River or Barka as it’s known locally is drying up.
In Queensland and New South Wales, corruption and water theft and harvesting has stopped the flow of the mighty Darling River which once flowed all year round and is a vital source of food, culture and recreation for the Barkindji people of Wilcannia. The Barka is now not even a trickle but a series of muddy billabongs with dying fish, yabbies, turtles and andthing else that once lived there.
The Barkindji people of Wilcannia are tough and self sufficient but their community orchard and garden can’t be watered and fresh produce is prohibitively expensive due to the freight costs. Without access to freshly caught fish and fresh produce, the health of the Brakindji people is being adversely impacted. There are also important social and cultural remifications of the Barka not flowing. There are a whole generation of young people who aren’t getting to fish, swim or go camping on the river and learn culture. This also leads to depression and alcohol abuse in the community.
In 2016 vwhen I stayed in Wilcannia there was still water in the river for the town because of the weir but in January 2019 the situation is dire and the water quality is decreasing in town all allong the river to the point of being undrinkable.
This problem is not isolated to Wilcannia but ultimately affect the whole Murray Darling Basin and the ecosystem of the continent.
Why has thias happened?
Two main reasons:
1. The drought caused by 200+ years of land clearing and deforestation has lead to a vastly different and drier climate in Auastralia.
2. Mismanagemant and corruption by politicians, farmers and large corporate cotton agriculture.
The solution is simple. Restore stream flow and mass tree planting and reforestation accross the entire catchment of the Darling. This could be done by a National River and Forest Brigade and reassigning the military forces to productive and nurturing purposes instead of destructive purposes.
The management of the Murray Darling should be by a single national body and responsibility taken away from the states as the Murray-Darling crosses borders.
There are some many other steps including the covering of irrigation canals, changing from cotton to hemp farming for fibre, restoring cross land flows by removing artifical barriers. However for now, I have written the following song/poem to raise awareness of this important national issue of environmental, ecological and socio-cultural significance. Please share to bring awareness to this issue.
Our Darling is Dying
Our Darling is dying and running quite dry
The Barkindji man said, I just want to cry
I went to the Darling and all I could see
Was a dry river bed, no longer flowing free
Dead fish were floating with poison and sick
Long muddy billabong, blue green algae slick
“Our river would always flow to the sea
Even in drought she always flowed free”
“There was always abundance and plenty of feed
But now she’s exploited by corporate greed”
Dinners and deals and networks of corruption
The Darling River is dying, this is it’s destruction
National politicians take donations of greed
From cotton corporations with their GMO seed
Four hundred thousand Megalitres for just Cubbie Station
But no water or fish for the Barkindji Nation
Other farm’s water theft is also a crime
The new laws don’t stop them our Darling is dying
Cotton farms, water theft, corruption as donations
The Darling is dying because of greedy cotton stations
Out there in Wilcannia there’s no fishing for feeds
No water for veggies so the garden’s just weeds
Two dollars for an apple, a lettuce ten or more
A dry river makes us sick and keeps us all poor
Just drinking and fighting and wearing a frown
Waiting for the Darling River to flow down
There’s no fishing, or swimming or camping anymore
There’s nothing to do and life is a bore
A dead roo in the river but it didn’t drown
It died when it drank the poison river water down
It’s time that we started the Barkindji man said
If the river doesn’t flow the whole country will be dead
Free up the Darling River and bring it back to life
Or the whole ecosystem is in trouble and strife
Everything must be done and we have what it takes
To naturally refill the whole Menindee lakes
To bring back silver perch, yellow belly and cod
Our Darling, Our source of life, Rainbow serpent God
If we don’t let the water flow I will sing this song
Till the Darling River is no more a muddy billabong
Clean up the river and make it like long before
and the Darling can waltz and flow forever more
But our Darling River’s is dying and our Darling is dry
The Barkindji man said, I just want to cry
Song Copyright James Arthur Warren, Thundercloud Reparian
Sung to the tune of Music Waltzing Matilda composed by Christina McPherson 1895 all instruments played by Charles Whitmer https://youtu.be/L-jftwjDzc4
You can contact me below if you are interested in using this song.
Thundercloud Repairian 