Penelope Parsons

Penelope Parsons was a collector
a connoisseur of flaccid flesh
Any male who dared to court her
would surely lose his quarter
And that was nothing fresh
because she liked to plunder
All that men carried there under.

Penelope would swoon
caress and kiss
nder the light of the moon
And it was not all too soon
the man would realise something amiss
No longer would he croon
but instead scream like a Baboon.

One slash and it was off
and in hand Penelope took it
Then with a scoff
and a quick little cough
Penelope did pocket
the flaccid penis once tough
And screamed with delight “I’ve got it!.”

She terrorised the city
from morning ‘till night
And indeed gave no pity,
Folk created a hilarious ditty
Of a woman who would smite
men that showed their dicky
and soon cried in fright.

The police they did stumble
without evidence
they did fumble
But none were good to tumble
To Penelope’s presence
and so on and on she did rumple
All of mans essence.

But the day came
when Penelope caught was she
Most women thought it a shame
the woman so notorious and full of fame
Who chopped them off with glee
felt she was not to blame
Freeing men of their ‘treasury’.

Long ones. Short ones, thick ones as well
Was what the police found
And they could not tell
upon which penis which man did fell
So many men abound
looking for their dinky bell
But no penis did fit at all sound.

In the court the Judge did he
without remorse
sentence Penelope
For sure enough he could see
his penis swinging its course
And he knew it to be
that his penis would be safe from Penelope.

But alas it did pass,
Penelope escaped and caused an uproar
And on the streets the rumours were amass
of the penis plucker feeling crass
And it was sure to be that men would be sore
if the penis plucker plucked once more
But Penelope changed her mind and became a lass!.

Who Turned the Tap On

If you ask anybody who has been to Bali, they will tell you it’s fantastic – sun, surf, shopping, a fabulous nightlife, and, a beautiful culture enveloped by stunning scenery.

However, there are times when it can have its moments. Take for instance today. I woke up to the sounds of rolling thunder banging on my eardrums like some heavy metal band. Candika had sought solace under the bedsheets with a death-grip on my left foot. When I finally managed to escape, I just had to see what the heck was going on.

The porch outside my room in the homestay was under siege by the swimming pool. I waded through and sat down on the only dry chair. Normally, I just walk six steps and dive into the pool. Now, all I have to do is walk into the pool!. The rain fell from the heavens incessantly.

“Hey, who turned the tap on?”

The rainy season is generally September through until the end of January. The other months are the dry season when it can become very hot and humid as Bali is only 8 degrees below the equator. The six-month rainy season just past delivered little rain, but, it sure made up for it today. I had to go out, things to do that couldn’t be put off to another day (don’t ya hate that!), people to meet, and of course Candika wanted to go shopping.

I changed backpacks to suit the weather – a small waterproof pack that holds the essentials – and this was my all-time favourite when the Gods decided to flood everything. Fifteen minutes into my sojourn in water world, my so-called waterproof pack that I’d had for years, decided to retire and allowed the rain to enter. Fortunately, my digital camera has a waterproof case, my notebooks didn’t and, neither did my vital lie of communication; the mobile phone. It sadly drank too much water, turned up the keypad and died.

So, it was off to the Nokia shop for mobile phone resuscitation:

“Rain has penetrated the inner core of my phone. Can you repair it and how much?”

“Huh?”

Stay calm Barrie.

“My phone is stuffed. It’s dead, carked it”

“Oh mister, your phone is wet”

Somebody turned a light bulb on in the man’s head!

“How much to repair the phone?”

“It’s a lot of work. Maybe Rp2,000,000”

Stay calm Barrie.

“I didn’t even pay that much for the phone”

“You want buy new phone?”

“Thank you. No. I’ll have it repaired in Australia”

Later. When the sun finally exploded out of the black clouds, Candika took the phone apart. She wiped every part with paper tissues and then placed it in the sunlight. My mobile phone is getting a suntan!. I had my reservations about Candika’s methods but it was successful and by sundown, I had my trusty mobile phone in hand shining with a new lease on life.

It was a clear night and as we stepped outside to go for a romantic dinner, on went the tap and, I searched in vain for Noah’s phone number.

Seminyak Delight

I’ve never really bothered much with exploring the tourist track here in downtown Kuta. It’s all a tad commercial for my liking, but, it is a good place to base yourself if you are wishing to explore the island of Bali.

One area of the ‘track’ to the north, delivered more surprises than I’d imagined. Seminyak is, in reality, where a majority of expats live. It is also a place where you will find some of the best restaurants, nightclubs and gay bars. I met up with a friend of mine who resides in Bali, Nick O’Neil, the main man behind baliblog.com, at a restaurant called Warung Mimpi on Jalan Dhyana Pura. This one street alone had more restaurants and bars than I could count on my fingers and toes – Italian, Chinese, Greek, French, and many more representing countries from around the world.

For now, I was happy to settle for Nasi Padang, food from the island of Sumatra. As we moorishly devoured grilled tuna marinated in sambal, lemon grass and numerous other exotic spices, I was amazed at how quiet the street was with only the odd person passing by where we sat alfresco. Nick reassured me that at night, the street was virtually alive with diners and rockin’ party people.

The Seminyak area consists of four main streets running pendicular from busy Jalan Legian to the beach. Here, beachfront restaurants abound for the concerning diner wishing a romantic dinner at sunset. There are various other restaurants also dishing up delights for the laid-back diner – Italian pizzas cooked in woodfire ovens, Mexican yummies and delicious burgers big enough for two people.

After lunch, I walked down Jalan Dhyana Pura to the beach for a cool swim in the ocean. I guess this is just one of the delights of the area – eating your fill, a gentle slow walk, and then, a swim in the sparkling blue water. Seminyak surprised me, and no doubt, it will continue to surprise me for many more years to come.

A Bit of Cockroach Silliness

Raunchy Ruth, the laptop dancer from IBM opened the meeting that night with Gusto the gracious geek from Gerry’s Gambling Garden.

“Shutup!” she screamed. “Gusto here ain’t saying nothing. This means I am the boss. Right Gusto?.

Gusto mumbled a few obscenities much to the amusement of the crowd gathered in the old graveyard near barmy Barney’s Barn. A hush had fallen on the crowd, no sound heard. Except of course for Darrie the drunk who was a devilish, deviant character of dubious means.

“Isa wanna says summit.” Darrie blurted out, causing every person there to hold their noses from fear of being poisoned with metho vapours.

“Shutup!. Raunchy Ruth screamed, saliva spurting stream-like from her succulent lips. “Now listen up. I’m going to say something.” Raunchy Ruth paused. “Sit down Gusto!”

Laughter filled the air. Gusto had almost gutted himself when he fell off the chair. He didn’t feel the banner pole, being held by dopy Doreen the dog lover, pierce his jasmine-coloured jacket. Raunchy Ruth screamed again, and again, to gain attention from the lovable leering crowd.

“First matter at hand. Sit down Gusto!. As I was saying, the first matter at hand is this cockroach thing. The chair recognises Chuck the Cockie in the corner.” Ruth said harshly.

Chuck stood and smiled warmly at the crowd, his feelers feeling everything near him. “We have a big problem. Us cockroaches have been around for longer than any living thing on this earth, and yet we are getting sprayed, slapped with slippers and sneakers, and spat on. We need your support.” Chuck chuckled a little. “When I say us, I mean the Cockroach Carers Corporation and the Cockroach Community Collective.”

Raunchy Ruth bellowed “Thanks Chuckie for telling us your concern. Right, let’s open the floor.”

All those present looked to the ground to see where the earth had opened up.

“Ain’t no holes Raunchy, just flat ground with the occasional hump or two. Oooppps!. Sorry Carry Camel.” Silly Sid the shoebox salesman said sheepishly. “Raunchy, can I speak?.”

Silly Sid received a glare from Raunchy Ruth. She liked him but her house was full of shoeboxes stacked side by side in the cellar. Silly Sid had caught her one day playing monopoly with Mighty Mike the marble maker. Naturally this was bad for Raunchy Ruth’s image. She had always prided herself as a hard no-nonsense woman.

“Thanks Raunchy.” Sid yelled from the back of the graveyard as he stood up. “We all have to rally behind Chuck and his cohorts. They are lovely little layabouts that love everything and everybody. In my opinion, we should start a….”

Carrie Camel interrupted. “Start what?. All of us here have taken part in daring demonstrations delightfully. But them out there don’t listen. I’m telling you, it’s these big companies we should go after. The one’s that make pesticides and stuff. They are the one’s that are killing us all off and not just Chuck and his cheery crowd. I know what you were going to say Sid, but it wouldn’t work. We already tried sending surly statements to the big guys. It just doesn’t work.”

“We must peruse the problem practically. ”Yelled Pattie Pastry who worked at Paul’s Patisserie. “It’s all well and good coming up with fabulous fertile ideas. I think we should all wear T-Shirts with a slogan supporting Chuck Cockroach and his cohorts. Any ideas?”

Sniggers and giggles rumbled through the crowd, followed by mumbles and whispers.

“Settle down!” Raunchy Ruth screamed. “I think it’s a great idea Pattie. Have a Peach Pie on me tomorrow, I’ll pay when I pass by.”

The crowd stood to their feet filling the graveyard with astounding applause.

“I’ve got it!” Chuck Cockroach exclaimed.

“Don’t give it to me.” Splurted Susan the Shampoo Seller from Sarah’s Salon. “I haven’t been well all week and I don’t need any more trouble.”

Chuck the Cockroach laughed. “No Susan. I have an idea for a slogan. I put to the floor and the chairperson (sorry Gusto!) we all wear T-Shirts with ‘Care for Cockies carefully, they care about you!.”

“Brilliant!” shouted Carrie Camel who was carefully perched on a headstone. “I’ve got a friend, Peter the Printer from Printers Perfection. It’s a good shop and I am sure he will give us a great deal.”

“What!.” Was the collective rumble in the crowd.

“Perhaps Silly Sid will sell more shoeboxes and donate the money.” Raunchy Ruth said sarcastically.

The Chothonian Warrior

Tis’ strange his mind wandered
to lands and different shores,
But still he pondered thoughts of death
with the breath that he had left.

Of smoke, fire and hell,
To raise the sword and cut the breath
the breath of a warrior,
A warrior so strong, but……
Tis’ strange,
Is death on the breath of the warrior
that worries.

A shield of sun, a sword of Earth,
a might so strong with will
To worry the warrior,
Oh open thy breast and feel the sword
of the solemn earth,
But sun so strong shall shield you
from the warrior that worries,
Or shall it?.

Take thy sword and bury it deep
Deep inside the cavern of flesh.
Tear the heart and take the breath,
with smoke, fire and hell,
Make clean thy sword and thy worries,
For the warrior who worries the warrior
shall worry no more.

A Screw Loose Experience

What do you get when you cross 200 passengers with a lot of excuses?. Utter
pandemonium, aggression and frustration. It was definitely an experience and one I would rather not have been involved in. I should have taken the earlier flight. I did arrive at Perth International Airport early, and I did board the Garuda flight bound for Bali. But, I never thought that I would have most of my first day of my sojourn in my own city and not of my intended destination.

It all began on board with the first announcement by the pilot: “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a short delay of 30 minutes whilst the engineers inspect one of the wheels”

30 minutes later: “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a delay of 2 hours. Apparently one of the bolts holding the wheel in place has drifted loose. For your convenience we ask you to disembark and wait in the terminal until the error is repaired”

So, 300 disgruntled passengers emitting all manner of abuse filed off the plane and into the terminal. We all did as requested and waited at Gate 1. Well, a small proportion of them of anyway. Some headed to the bars, others to the smoking room, and yours truly to the bookshop which was happy to relieve me of $200.

I sauntered back to Gate 1 after an hour pleased to find that cakes and drinks had been supplied courtesy of Garuda International. Give me a break!...why not let us all into the business lounge at least. After the 2 hour deadline I spotted a Garuda representative and this meant only one thing – DOOM.

2 hours later: The Garuda representative informed us quiet calmly “I am so sorry (that’s gotta be a fib) but the engineers are having trouble with obtaining a part (hey, this is Australia – we have everything) and so there will be a further delay of 4 hours”

The stunned mullet expressions portrayed the feelings amongst the passengers. It took no more than 30 seconds to sink in and the masses scattered to the far corners of the airport. The bookshop owner welcomed me with open arms like I was part of the family.

4 hours later: 50% of the passengers are in good voice fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol, 25% were intent of murder, and the remainder, trying to be extremely patient. I staggered back to Gate 1 with another $100 worth of books and sat down wondering if I’ll ever get to Bali.
The Garuda representative appears with a beaming smile on her face. In my opinion it was not good. She took a deep breath “Ladies and gentlemen (she would have made a good pilot!), unfortunately the flight has been delayed until 10.30pm as the spare part for the wheel has to be flown from Jakarta. In the meantime, courtesy of Garuda you will be accommodated at the Ibis hotel and given lunch and dinner. All transport costs carried by us”. She was there, then she was gone.

We all had to re-enter Australia through Immigration, obtain our luggage and take it to the Ibis hotel. I must admit it was nice of them to supply a bit of tucker in the atmosphere of a five star hotel, but I would rather have stayed and chatted to my long lost relative at the bookshop.

As it turned out, we were all picked up on time and on arrival at the airport had to exit through immigration and boarded the plane on time at 11pm. Then it came. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a short delay of 30 minutes, but, let me assure you we will be departing at midnight “.

I had been awake since 3am and when I arrived at Denpasar airport at 3.30pm the following morning, I was proverbially stuffed. Fortunately, Immigration and customs never argued with us (I wonder why) and all passengers walked out of the terminal happy to be in Bali.

05.00 hrs: No taxis at the airport. No hotels picking up their clients because it’s too early. No happiness anywhere.

Serial - Reggie and Flo Tripping in Bali

Episode 1 – 'Reggie Dips Out!'

Reggie was a fairly predictable bloke who had worked at the Water Board all his working life. Every Friday after work, Reggie would drive to his local pub after first withdrawing some of his wages from the ATM. He generally arrived there around 2pm in the afternoon. Reggie would drink with his mates until 6pm and more often than not, he called a taxi cab to get his worse-for-wear body home to his wife. This had been a kind of ritual for most of his married life and he knew when he arrived home, Flo would tell him how pissed he looked and plonk his dinner on the dining table, then walk off to watch telly.

There was a distinct coolness in Flo’s attitude that night and Reggie kinda figured he knew why. Reggie was due long service leave from the Water Board, a total of two months. He had already figured out where he wanted to go for his holidays – the same place as they had always gone, down to his mate’s shack on the beach 200 kilometres south of Perth. Here Reggie could relax, fish all day and drink all night.

When Reggie woke up some four hours later, the kitchen was in darkness and Flo had retired to bed. Having slept off most of the booze consumed earlier that afternoon, Reggie went to bed for his usual bit of Friday night slap n’ tickle. This too had become a ritual in their lives. Reggie slipped into bed beside Flo. She turned her back to him and slapped his advancing hands.

“What’s the matter darling?” Reggie asked, “You know its Friday night and we always…”

Flo interrupted with a defiant tone in her voice.

“Reggie, Friday night’s are out and so is every other bloody night from now on”.

“But honey” Reggie whimpered.

“Reggie, your long service starts in two weeks and I want a holiday. Not just that bloody shack down south. I want a real holiday” Flo stated emphatically.

Reggie rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. What could be a better holiday than fishing all day with your mates, he thought. Perhaps Flo wanted to go up country to see her sister at the farm. I could live with that, he mumbled to himself, but only for a couple of days after spending some weeks down south. Reggie turned to face Flo hoping the peace offering of a visit to her sister’s place would solve the situation and also relieve the aching in his groin. Reggie spoke coyly.

“Hey darling, I got a good idea. We can go and see your sister. It’s been a while I know, but we could manage a few days before we head down south”

Flo grunted. “Fuck you, I want a holiday…a real holiday”

Reggie sat up, startled his wife used that word. She never liked it, except of course when they were intimate.

He placed his hand on Flo’s shoulder. She turned over to face him.

“Reggie, I want to go to Bali. Marjorie at the bowling club went there for a month and she loved it”

“Bali?. Whereabouts in Australia is it Flo and I’ll take you there” Reggie said, hoping his wife would be pleased.

Flo shook her head. “Reggie you are a dumb ass sometimes. Bali is in Indonesia. We go there by plane” she sighed and continued “In Australia!…honestly Reggie, you give me the shits with your stupidity”

Reggie’s mouth was wide open. He stared at Flo.

“Flo, that’s a bloody foreign country. It’ll be dangerous. Knowing my luck, they’ll be head-hunters there and shit like that. Besides, ya probably can’t even get beer there”

By now, Flo had sat up, hands on her hips. “Bullshit Reggie!. When I spoke to Marjorie about Bali, she told me it was a very romantic place. In fact, she reckons that her hubby couldn’t get it up he enjoyed himself that much”

“Romantic eh. If I decide to go along with this holiday fantasy of yours Flo, how long do we have to be there for?”

Flo burst into laughter. She knew there was three ways to convince her husband to do something: Beer, food and sex, with the latter being on top of the list. Flo looked straight into Reggie’s eyes as romantically she could.

“Reggie darling, it’ll only be for a month. You’ll have such a good time there. Just imagine every day being like a Friday night”

He grinned, placed his hand on Flo’s left breast and whispered in her ear.

“I’ll go to the travel agent on Monday darling after work and get some brochures”

To be continued

A Bit of Bush Poetry

OLD JACK McCROW

Old Jack McCrow never did say ‘Never say Die’,
But he felt like it on that fateful summer’s day,
On the edge of Wombat Ridge,
A deathly place of misfortune, isolation and fear.

For old Jack had come to share his sorrows
with the animals of the land,
With the towering Eucalypts and stubby Bottlebrush
with Corella’s and Galah’s,
And not forgettin’ the Bull Ants that bite
the hungry Termite and Wasp alike.

McCrow’s missus had scorned him so
For lickin’ too much ale,
His mates had said ‘She’d be right’
and so Jack drank hard into the night,
But upon his return home, staggered did he
acting stupid and sweet,
A blackened frypan he did meet.

Fanny McCrow was a burly woman
arms of muscle and meat,
One swing and a ‘thump’ was all it took,
And old Jack no longer stood on his feet,
‘Away from ‘ere ya cad’ she cried,
And old Jack staggered away, his head aside.

Over the edge of the ridge he peered,
And even though he was a feared,
Of death and God and Devil too,
They would be fair mates in a blew,
So old Jack he jumped, his thoughts askew.

The pain weren’t so bad, he thought
As he looked hard around to see….But
no pub he saw, not even a good sort,
But then he thought ‘This ain’t so bad’,
Fanny’s gone and frying pan too,
But the bloody Devil made sure there weren’t no loo!.

Just A Rant and a Rave

Slack ain’t the word to describe my writing habits these past few days. There wasn’t any!. At least not that much. I could always lay the blame on numerous happenings like Perth being inundated with massive storms, floods and the ilk, but it never occurred – just the incessant heat and humidity. That’s it!...I perspired too much and my perspiration streamed from my fingertips onto the keyboard and blew the mother board to smitherinees. Nah, doesn’t seem plausible. But, it has been bloody hot with temperatures hovering viciously in the vicinity of 40c. This causes thought. Why is the weather pattern such as it is?.

Environmentalists scream global warming, and I agree, but what is being done about it?. Nothing, zilch, denada and sweet FA. Sure, numerous countries globally have cleaned up their act as well as signed the Kyoto Treaty. But what of the two big instigators of pollution in this world. Yep, the good ‘ol U.S of A and its bum buddy Australia neither of whom see any sense in signing this treaty, and yet, they proclaim ‘to have made steps in the right direction’. Bollocks!. It takes unity, global unity and dedication to alleviate this f’ing mess we are in on this planet.

But, I have digressed from the original and that being my slackness for not scribing. Actually it is quite simple. My trip to Indonesia is only seven days away and I have been flat out like a lizard drinking organising all ‘n sunder. At least my bags are almost packed!. I rang Candika in Java this morning who promptly informs me that she will be arriving in Bali on an earlier flight. After I finish telling her I cannot make my plane go any faster so that it arrives the same time as hers, she politely tells me that she will pick me up at the airport after getting settled in our digs.

The writing?. Yes, well I have been keeping the fingertips on the keyboard and averaging my usual 4500 words per day. It has just been my posting on this blog that’s been slack. I haven’t made any submissions or sent proposals to any mags. Of course I have been note-jotting as well. I simply do tons of that. Now this brings to point, how will I perform (writing wise) when I arrive in Bali. All those distractions: a cool swimming pool, fabulous and delightful people, my friends living there in Bali, spectacular scenery, and of course not forgetting Candika. Simple, very simple – I’ll blog from Bali!.

Musing...

LOST IN SHANGHAI

I love to sleep and dream
But nobody talks to me in my dream
And I awake to talk
But nobody talks to me
And so I walk and talk to the one I know
More than else or myself,
People listen then, but do not talk,
I return to dream, and when I do
No words do I hear
So in reality I remain……..
Within myself.


FINI

Whisk the clouds and stir the breeze
For what you see you cannot,
A haze is all visible, and yet
You see within to see yourself

Frightening as it may be you stare
No clouds to whisk or breeze to stir
For what you feel you cannot feel
But death itself,
And yet you stare within yourself

Clouds are thoughts, breeze only actions
And for what you do, you do not know
For what is done cannot be undone
And death itself greets you and whispers
‘Come inside, see yourself’.