Do we really think we can just start over? Are we deluded? Or is it the eternal human attribute to hope? As is always the case, I make these videos and hold onto them, sometimes for years. This was made in early 2018. I think the vision came first and I wrote the poem around it. Usually it's the other way around.
'Miss, how do I do up my seatbelt?' (Good tip for the new Terrorist. Rather than utilising some dirty dude with a feral beard, employ a hot babe! Then no-one will show any concern for the unattended baggage in the seat behind her.) A recent survey of Qantas airline staff said that 25% (a nice round number) reported being sexually harassed by customers or other staff members. While sexual harassment as a term, has yet to be defined in this particular case as either a look, a comment, being followed, stalked or a grope, there is a simple way to eradicate this type of behavior. Ugly staff. 'Oh Captain, my Captain.' For all time, attractive people, in most cases young women, have been used by c
S.W.M. seeking retirement I am no longer restless Or eager for the fight The assholes are running the racket And for the most part, Always have. The tales are told by the victors This we know They also ensure that the losers are kept silent At least in their lifetimes (Do not open pre death). I’m weary before my time If I ever had the energy Or perhaps it sailed by Under a lidless sky And that, dear friend Was the proverbial boat. I won’t accept defeat graciously Nor would it make sense Not to be embittered In all its resplendent colours (Is there anything more vibrant?) Yet the heat has fallen From my charged spirit. All I seek now Knowing that the past is firmly etched Is the vacuum of sil
Starlight swallows sense There is an artistic shroud That settles like star dust Over the dark encrusted Brittle beaten warriors Who seek a sample Of Sanctuary From the speckled light Hoping for more than illumination Entrusting a way Towards a new and solid path. If they can’t find it soon Then can we share Their scrap of hope As the barrel bottom dregs Creates moisture effigies Of our misery So that we can visualise Our actualities Whilst our spirits Finally get the picture. At some point It’s prudent to hang hats And embark on a new trail Than persist in the face of futility. If our egos will allow it.
In late May 2020, I took part in my third Photography Shoot with renown artist, Spencer Tunick. It was done online, as part of a ongoing Covid exhibition entitled Life During Wartime. The final images are below. Third from Left, Third from Bottom, in all three shots. https://lifeduringwartimeexhibition.org/ Also below are the images from the first shoots I took part in. Sydney 2010 and Melbourne 2001. While not quite the amazing experience the first two were, this one was more personal with Spencer talking to us and giving us direction by name. Melbourne 2001 - Early Sunday morning on the cold wet tram tracks. I'm in the middle towards the front. Freezing but probably the best of the three s
