Laid Bare and Anyways

Nature isn’t ever bare 

There’s always something left 

Snow coating twigs 

Ice in teary goodbyes 

Caught in time and stuck 

Duck at the Park: Nicla Byrnes 

Like glue on 

The branches of yesterday. 

Nature is downy and warm too 

On the coat of a brave grizzly 

Or the feathers of a dapper 

Looking duck.

The clothes of a mountain 

Are grassy or wrapped in ocean 

Skirts or covered in bursts of 

Flowered fertilisations.

You can stick your skin up 

To a camera, lay it bare 

Get your kit out –

Whatever they say. 

Make a character 

'Duck in the Water " Nicla Byrnes 

Out of bodies. 

Shock people 

Get a reaction…

Insides got all the 

Intricate stuff

Anyways. 

It’s all been done before 

All that. 

Is it liberating to take your clothes off 

For everyone?

Is it liberating to wear something 

To make a statement?

Yeah, sometimes but mostly 

It’s more liberating just 

To see all the coatings 

Of nature 

Even though

It sounds real

Twee and all that. 

And the way it all ticks 

To the beat of love.  

Nature isn’t ever bare 

Neither are people 

Not on the inside

Anyways. 

You can compare outside bodies 

Like a used car sales person

Might but the engines 

Got the beautiful gear 

Anyways. 

Yeah I bought

Some Datsuns

A long time ago 

As gifts, bright sunny yellow 

or sky blue

Because I was thinking 

Of nature’s coatings and engines 

And memories

And people and love

Not statements or 

Goodbyes or not 

Good enough,

Not upgrading

Or impressing 

Or making a grand hullabaloo. 

Nature isn’t ever bare 

It’s just so gorgeous, 

Like people in 

All their funny and beautiful ways. 

Anyways, that’s how I 

Feel. 

 

 

Autumn Cake

It’s spring in Australia and so I set out to make a bird’s nest inspired cake. I then remembered years before trying to do the same cake with two royal icing birds inside. I had some help that time. I didn’t quite get there with the bird’s nest cake this time so with all the pieces of a mistake I turned the cake into an Autumn leaf cake. It’s not what I had intended. I was really trying to make the birds nest cake on my own. I’m kind of glad it didn’t work out in some ways, my cake that is, because comparisons can be a bit problematic, like the way u might be compared to someone or something or an ideal that isn’t going to change the world in any positive way. Sometimes it’s helpful and sometimes it’s just not. 

Comparisons can feel like heartache, can become an illness or might threaten to stamp out everything beautiful about the different shapes, sizes styles and ways of life that make of joy. Sometimes it’s kind of lovely to compare, like the way you might do with the seasons. I realised that I often try to recreate the birds nest cake around springtime. I’ve made a stalagmite cake with the broken pieces once before.  I love those kinds of caves because all the pieces are so collective but so different too. I am listening to Four Season’s Vivaldi Autumn while writing today. It reminds me of a holiday in Prague. What struck me was how much music was alive in the churches and halls during the day, any day and virtually at any time. Sitting in a church listening to beautiful free music was a feeling of found freedom. It struck me that in Australia you didn’t get as much free organised music like that. I think it should be everywhere, free music supported by Governments and corporate entities; hospitals, shopping centres, churches, schools, festivals, in the streets, in libraries on transport and more. I’ve always said this and always will. Sometimes I repeat myself because it’s something I think worth repeating. 

The Seasons are pretty beautiful. It’s a bit of cliché to say that we start in the Spring of life and end up a Winter. I think one day can be full of the whole four in one. I think one year can be too, regardless of the age of the person. I once struggled with an eating disorder and would never have eaten any of the cake in this picture. I made a lot of comparisons with myself and other people back then. Mainly though it wasn’t as much about that but about feeling the winter of life creep in a bit too much but even in the Winter there were some beautiful snowflake moments, at bare bones.  There was spring again. There was Summer. There was that Autumn feeling of dancing through leaves in all of those beautiful hues. 

I recall a bit of a douche I knew suggesting my eating disorder was based in some truth around not actually being as hot as a super model. His idea was that I should aim for “less good looking people” to be around and it might help me deal with being more ordinary. Sometimes abusive people can make recovery difficult.  What the fuck is an ordinary person? I still haven't found one. I’m not a supermodel and to all the super models out there who have also had eating disorders, steer clear of abusive people if you can. The truth is though, wanting to disappear, to shed away the richness of flesh too much, the gift of good health is a serious illness. Comparisons make it more difficult to mend that decision to fade away forever though. It’s a true embodiment of anxiety and sadness. Recovery is totally possible though, like I’ve said before. 

The best way to run through leaves on grass is probably in bare feet, that way it doesn’t matter whether your shoes are the best or the most expensive and if you don’t run or walk through leaves it’s always lovely to see free gold falling around the earth. You can even see that all year round in the Australian bush. I always used to hunt through the scrub for red gum leaves fallen from the trees. I used to have a pair of Lucy shoes when I was really small, not in the sky with Diamonds. They were the ones I picked in a shop and I bought myself by doing jobs for people in the street. It was about a little girl who asked me to get my head out of the sky with diamonds and find some shoes for the ground. They had pictures of Lucy on them from the Snoopy comics. She decided she didn’t like those shoes either so I used to wear plastic bags over my shoes as a joke since she liked making me the butt of all jokes. I still preferred bare feet through the leaves most. Sometimes people do just want to feel the same even if they are not completely the same. Sometimes they want to feel different, It’s the push and pull of life that is. It’s sometimes terribly sad and sometimes it’s not. I love the song Autumn Leaves by Nat King Cole, especially when done via classical guitar. It’s that beautiful and worth getting lost in for a while or found in. In the seasons of life as they intertwine, may you be blessed with love. 

 

About Cakes and Pies

 Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous,

there shall be no more cakes and ale?

 

Twelfth night, perhaps one of the more underrated of all, where Shakespeare is concerned, mentions cake. It seems to stand here as a symbol of the good-life. Underrated if you love Shakespeare that is. I’m pretty sure Shakespeare wouldn’t expect everyone to love it and especially not without an update or two, a remake, a reworking, a new point of view.

Cake, in Twelfth Night, seems to be a sign of Virtue versus decadence, decency versus temptation, self -control against the hilarity of letting go and being just a little bit silly. Cakes are a bit silly in a way because they taste so good but aren’t all that good for the body in massive doses. I mean it’s rather like a sugar sandwich in a way and yet I think Shakespeare liked cakes but not as much as posset. Too much of anything is never a good thing they say. Ah, sometimes quotes, sayings, cliché’s aren’t really my thang. Too much love is not possible. I still think love is boundless. Did Shakespeare though? 

 

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.”

Romeo and Juliet. 

Were they all too in love to see reason? Were they too naïve? Was Desdemona a fool to not see herself headed for doom? Oh god no. Do you think a man who was one of the first to place women in pivotal roles, would be a victim blamer? I really don’t think so. It is my belief that in all of Shakespeare’s work he was merely trying to demonstrate how love can be thwarted by others, by corrupt systems, by bigotry, by mastermind manipulators. Iago thought of Desdemona as naïve. Is it naïve to fight for love, to suggest love, keep trying for love, willing love into the universe ? No, it’s brave. Was Othello weak or naïve for losing his way, becoming corrupted. For me, Shakespeare meant to say that Othello was beauty and truth, success and honor even against the landscape of bigotry that existed in Verona, until one of the worst of all, Iago, came to break down everyone’s sense of hope, love, self -belief and goodwill. In Othello, It was jealousy and bitterness and a greedy system that lead way to the destruction of people’s minds and relationships. 

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Twelfth night is a play by a man who wasn’t afraid to delve into the world of gender ambiguity. Was he joking? Not in the sense of bigotry no. Was it a comedy of errors that Viola and Olivia should fall in love or Antonio should have a passionate devotion to Sebastian. I think Shakespeare was dabbling in mirth and serious questions of gender and sexuality. People are just funny sometimes in all their nuances and strange habits. Straight people are, gay people are, bisexual people are. Shakespeare reflected the times but probably also reflected a lot of his own wonderings. Was it funny to him that they fell in love? It was funny simply because the world was so willing to dismiss the differences and similar quirks that hold people together. Sometimes behind the comedy is a message. Sometimes people do genuinely laugh at one another in all the wrong ways. It’s hard to get comedy right. It’s hard to get happiness right. It’s hard indeed and most of all to get love right. 

I can live without money, but I cannot live without love. Judy Garland

Back to the topic of cake. I’ve got distracted but that’s a big part of Shakespeare isn’t it? People get distracted away from what it was the really want or who they really are and sometimes in the mean time they also discover some new aspects about themselves and others. Ah, yes, cake. I’ve always made cakes. When I was a little girl I used to press my nose against the glass and look at the cakes in a bakery in Engadine. Sydney NSW. I may have written about this before. Oh well. The same stories get recycled. Ask Shakespeare. He sure as hell would know about that. Engadine Cake Shop was all about deciding which cake I might have if I was allowed to have cake. I used to like to dress as Little Red Riding Hood too and deliver my all -time specialty, carrot cake to different people in our street. I remember cakes being made for me and making cakes for people I loved. Making a cake can be really daunting and especially now because who wants a Pinterest fail? It’s so easy to see now why you’re not good enough at making cakes anymore because the internet gives you a taste of the very worst and the very best. People should still make them sometimes even so if they like to. 

I used to like cakes from a place in Smith Street called Gluttony. It’s a place you go to sometimes to be a bit naughty I guess and eat… cake. 

The cakes were a bit of an irregular shape sometimes, stuff oozing out at the sides, bit home grown. 

My cakes are a bit yeah, home grown, sometimes a bit of a mess. I’m still working on them from time to time, like the one in this picture which is called the Mary May Butterfly Cake. It’s a work in progress. It’s hard to feel like a legend, to be the best or to want to keep trying at something when it seems like a waste of time and that goes for  for anyone anywhere; 

If I am a legend, then why am I so lonely? Judy Garland

 

I also really really love pies, any type of pies. It’s like a cake but you always get pastry and you Always know you’re going to get it, just like love should be. Is it ok to have apple Pie every night in moderation? As long as you serve it with a big bit of love, yeah I think so. Should you force some-one to love Apricot pie if they love apple pie more? Not exactly no. Should you ask them to appreciate it and maybe come to love it more. Perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. Or you could find a new flavor that everyone likes. It’s just about working it out without the pie disappearing for good I guess. 

I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love. Marilyn Monroe

I think most of us are just like that even though we lose or way or hide the truth...

Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't goin' away. Elvis Presley

 

We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Stay with love. It’s all you really have. If you win or of you lose just keep on loving. Sounds corny. Oh well. It’s corny, who gives a crap if it’s corny, corn is delicious. 

 

Someone recently told me Joan of Arc was a bit of a boring saint. It’s funny how that came up, the band and the song about how Joan might have felt and all that. Sometimes kids in bands can look back at themselves and think ok I feel like a knob remembering somethings I did and other stuff I’m glad I did. That’s what being a kid is about and an adult for that matter. I never really meant to be one religion or another. As far as the Catholics went well Joan was pretty kick ass but she wouldn’t necessarily think so. Like I said, being a legend is a bit daunting but I love that Aussie culture embraced the idea of calling people a “Bloody Legend”.  Yeah it’s a possibility for us all. Joan, she challenged gender, she fought for love, she meant it. As long as you mean it, you want it and you’ll fight for it, you have something worth planning for that gives back as much as it gives, in one way or another even if doesn’t seem so, somewhere and somehow. 

 

 

 

 

 

That Tensile Filament

The Spider is she 

Hiding?

Is he too? 

Is it me or 

You 

Or Everyone?

Are we really so

Much closer 

To spiders 

At all? 

Than anyone else? 

The spiders are they

spinning 

Like a dance 

Made of silk 

And lace 

And grace?

The spider is he 

Climbing?

Is she too? 

Into life, 

Into strife

Into circus 

Threads?

For we sometimes 

Us all -

Hang by a filament 

In the darkest of hours 

Or scuttle to safety 

Or bath in the sunny 

window frames 

of morning ideas.

We can be brave like 

those Tensile threads 

Unbreakable steel 

Or barely there 

If only they might look twice 

And catch a glimmer 

Of magic in the glints 

Of a webb laced 

In sunny gold streams 

From on high. 

Yes, spider people 

Suit up. 

Spin some 

Lovin’

Spin some

 life 

Some music 

Or delish delights

Keep on dreamin’ 

And the silk goes on

A gleamin’ 

Under the moonlight 

Or the jovial gold

Sunshiny bright. 

Chasing Rainbows and the Unicorn Cat

 I stubbornly write poems 

Nobody reads 

All that much 

Like the way a child 

Might have learnt 

To paint rainbows 

In goodbyes.

Like a cat 

wishing for 

a magical 

unicorn horn. 

Like the way 

A child might 

Of waited for hello 

Under a dangling 

String with nothing 

Attached. 

Cept I’m not

Chasing down cars 

Anymore 

Or 

Chasing them rainbows 

Anymore. 

If it’s me then it’s 

All of me. 

Not running

Not hiding 

Not chasing

Not waiting

For anyone 

That keeps people 

Waiting

Or makes people 

Hide 

Or makes people 

Chase down enough. 

Enough is enough 

On allusions 

Unless the magic 

Is really 

And truly 

An 

US. 

Woranora Dam

We used to go up there 

Us kids 

To the big dam 

Thinking the name was all wrong

The grey cement 

Wasn’t sacred

Like Wooloonora -

Black rock 

Was. 

I said - they can 

Dam the rivers 

Rape the pride 

Of our land

Of our today

Of our tiny bodies 

Of our starry eyed 

Tomorrows 

But she will still 

Run like the wind 

And he will still sing 

Like the birds do 

And I will still love enough 

To dance the call of 

Uluru 

Red as fire

Solid as gold 

Tweety tweet your 

Gameshow goop

Star spangled banners 

And all the hoopla 

Of nothing much to show for it

Because 

I walked to Uluru 

When I was just a girl 

I would have walked to the moon if I could 

I would have danced across a thousand stars 

I would have grown a pair of wings 

Flown to the brave Liions heart of

The Litani River for them. 

I would have danced the tarantella 

With a trillion spiders at my veins 

Just to say, even this is not enough 

To show what love is

So much bigger than hate

Than rape 

Than greed 

Than goodbye 

I did all that in my heart. 

Nothing said can take 

Those feelings.

I still have them. 

They are mine

But the land she is 

Everyone’s.

She is, he is, they are 

Not owned, not borrowed, not forgotten 

But loved as though 

Loved without letting go 

But loved as though 

Loved in the spirit of Woolonora 

Black rock- solid and covered in glints of silver 

Like those stars I would dance on 

come down 

To rest 

And heal our wounds 

Forever. 

Don’t Kill the Messengers

The truth isn’t dead. 

Can you hear the people sing?

Rising up in the underground…

Can you hear, the people gather…

In the silences though NOT so much on televisions 

Made by sharp square heads with dollar 

Bills for eyes and plasma hearts. 

They will not always choose the messengers. 

He who shouts in courts 

“We’ve been over this” 

Should be able to say so 

For we have. 

Do not put a glass in front of 

Voices but a stopper 

In the trumpets 

Of those who hurt 

Our freedom with 

Foghorns full of lies. 

Who can we vote for? 

None of them. 

The race is won before it 

Was a race. 

Can you hear the people sing? 

Rising up in the underground? 

Can you hear the people gather… 

There is power in money 

But many a fight was won 

With people, 

With hearts,

With peasants,

With the truth. 

Don’t talk to me about elections 

All stacked up from the start 

Don’t tell me a millionaire 

Should get an award or knighthood 

From the Queen of England. 

Put away the smarmy awards 

They are made of money 

And greed. 

If someone loves enough

To say it out loud 

Be brave enough to say 

You were right 

Shove the Oscar wins in 

With the grouch in green 

They belong in the trash

For people made movies 

For free 

And children were 

Crushed at the hands 

Of abuse 

Take off those 

Rotten jewels 

In disgrace. 

You still work for 

Plagiarists and 

Pitiful crooks. 

Do not stay silent. 

Say it out loud. 

Scream it from the 

Rooftops 

Make it matter. 

Take your wings 

And fly a flag 

With Arrows in your skin 

Can you hear the people sing? 

Can you hear the people gather 

In the underground?

Not the trolls 

Not the numbers on 

The followers list 

Not the Labels 

Not the one with 

The “best body”

The ones with the best 

Hearts. 

Don’t show me a catholic cross 

Until a Royal Commission is safe 

To speak in. 

Do they know they have more money 

Than google? 

That’s a lot. 

Halfway there isn’t good enough. 

It’s been too long. 

Though my fingers slip across the 

Keys of a piano 

Though I make my own mistakes 

They are not tickets 

They are not fines 

We are not shame 

Don’t talk to me about the mighty Police 

Until beautiful police officers 

Aren’t run ragged 

By all of the wrong ones. Can you hear the people sing? 

Can you feel the people as they gather in the underground?

All people, all kinds of religion, all kinds of ways of looking, from 

All over the world, all kinds of ways of loving. 

Please don’t kill the Messenger. 

You’ve tried and failed. 

We will rise up. Rise Up. Fly a flag. 

I’m angry. 

I am woman. 

I am with men and women and all those 

Who mean well, try hard and want peace. 

Hear me roar and cry and look to the birds 

We have a voice it is our own 

Can you hear me? 

Did you make my children, 

my lover,  doubt their 

Freedom, their worth, their real value? 

You could not rip away my love. 

It is bigger than money. 

It seeps from my skins into the drains 

Out to the sea. 

It is full. 

It is everything I have. 

Do you hear the people sing? 

Do you hear the people gather? 

I would dance across a billions stars for them. 

Or at least try to. 

Don’t kill the Messengers. 

Rise up, Dig deep, love well. 

The Hamburger Phone

 Memories fade, are lost and sometimes found again. Recently I’ve been dreaming of my childhood hamburger phone. It’s hard to remember where it all started. A gift given to me that then sparked all of the subsequent hamburger phones I kept on gifting people or whether I gave the first hamburger phone in the first place.

  Why I stopped giving them, well, I suppose I realised The Hamburger phone held promises that just couldn’t always be kept. Perhaps the lock down has taken its toll. That’s because I looked up Hamburger phone and actually shed a tear. Too much time alone and even pictures of  hamburger phones might even make you cry. Was it a stupid gift? No. Gifts aren’t really like that so much. Gifts are merely objects covered in stories, memories, love, dependency, obligations, traditions, trepidation and sometimes risk. I was plagued with allergies as a child. Wheat was ruled out and this meant I couldn’t eat Hamburgers. I was given a hamburger phone as a substitute. The card read ;

 

“I bought you this phone, since you can’t eat hamburgers anymore. Then I realised it might remind you of a time when you did. We can take it back if you don’t want it.” 

 

I didn’t want to take it back. I was very small. I turned my bed

room into an imaginary  burger Diner and a few  of my childhood friends at the time took the downstairs as first floor Hamburger Diner while I made burgers on the second floor on an imaginary cooktop.  Orders were taken via the Hamburger Phones we all ended up with, as I went on to buy Hamburger phones for many of the people I loved when their Birthdays came round. Did it make me feel like eating burgers again? Not all that much no. It was really an attempt at holding memories open, not hanging up on hope, attempting to collect hearts and link them up like a phone line might do, without bottling them away. Strange given it was a Hamburger phone. Strange given it was made of plastic and could of represented a set of golden arches equal to all the trappings of a material world. I wasn’t looking at the Hamburger phone like that. Sometimes we swapped floors. Sometimes we worked in our play on the same floor. I suppose we were experimenting with distance, the idea of hierarchy, loneliness, togetherness. Children are deeper beings than we might sometimes understand. Their absorption of surroundings, people, nature, structures, words, feelings family and inclusion is developing at a rate faster than at any other life stage. Pushing children into adult worlds too quickly is harmful, especially when it’s about making money, but regardless they are already assessing their place in adult worlds or their future adult worlds very early on. 

The Hamburger phone was received differently by people who received them. It’s sometimes hard to articulate the motivation for a gift when you are a small child. I remember some of the responses:

 

“Oh WOW NOW I’VE GOT A HAMBURGER PHONE TOO.” (sweet)

“What the hell is this? A hamburger phone? Weird. “ (not so sweet)

“Why didn’t I get the first Hamburger phone present?” (pain in the ass) 

“ Thank you. Um, just what I always wanted” (polite/possible passive aggressive)

“I was actually hoping for a hotdog phone” ( never happy, always looking for a better option) 

“What? This is the niftiest little phone I’ve ever seen. You made my day. I’m sure everyone will be impressed by this Hamburger phone.” (Eternal Optimist) 

“Ah, okay. I like it. Strangely. I would never have said this, but I actually like this present but I’m going to put it away for now until I have time to set it all up. Thank you.” (The mystery girl Maria) 

No words, just a hug (sad and sweet, sweetly happy)

“I think I might be a bit too old for this gift, but thank you for the thought? (Honest but brutal)

 

Too old for a novelty phone? For some yes. For me, no. Well, I barely use the landline these days, but nevertheless a collection of novelty phones never does go astray. 

So why did I give up on the trusty Hamburger phone gift? I grew up. People come and people go. I began to understand no gift can make everything ok. Not everything lasts forever. Not everyone likes hamburger phones and in this material world people make choices that leave behind good and not so good memories. That people make bad choices, much like the pull of the golden arches, choices that mean the livewires, the lines are out for good. 

 

Maybe the person who gave me the Hamburger phone should have made it a heart phone. Nah, I still love the clumsy little way of it. I still love the deeper learning in it. 

 

“We can’t go out for burgers but don’t forget to call me if you need to.” 

 

So the calls  to different people from there on, were sometimes, cheesy full of loved up romance. So the calls were sometimes needy, desperate, serious, wavering round the edges like a piece of crisp lettuce. So the calls were sometimes silly, just like the look of a Hamburger phone itself. So the calls were sometimes cranky, meaty and mad. Sometimes full of saucy gossip, sometimes sprinkled with sesame seed tears. 

 

I replaced the Hamburger phone with engraved pens in later primary school. The bloke at Eltham Mr Mint shoe repair and engraving got to know me. I thought it would be more grown up but the Hamburger Phone was much more than a child, much more than one person, much more than a phone shaped like a burger. It was part of my story. Not a movie daft people make you make for free. It was mine. It still is.