- Published on
Into the woods
To find the snow fairies,
To see the kids having snow fights,
To see the snowmen who have popped up in the night.
There is a mum and and her little girl building a new snowman
Mum has the bucket and spade,
They're normally reserved for holidays at the seaside,
But the snow is calling.
The little girl sits next to the growing mound of snow,
Dressed in a pink jumpsuit,
She looks at all the white around her,
And shakes her little head,
Where did it all come from???
There are kids and grown-up kids
With plastic toboggans,
And people throwing snowballs at each other.
People are smiling
As they pass each other by,
Hello! Isn't this great? Isn't this lovely?
And then you walk into the Little Wood.
And it is oh so quiet,
The stillness of it all,
The picture postcard perfection of it all,
Makes your heart melt
And you hope the snow around you doesn't.
To find the snow fairies,
To see the kids having snow fights,
To see the snowmen who have popped up in the night.
There is a mum and and her little girl building a new snowman
Mum has the bucket and spade,
They're normally reserved for holidays at the seaside,
But the snow is calling.
The little girl sits next to the growing mound of snow,
Dressed in a pink jumpsuit,
She looks at all the white around her,
And shakes her little head,
Where did it all come from???
There are kids and grown-up kids
With plastic toboggans,
And people throwing snowballs at each other.
People are smiling
As they pass each other by,
Hello! Isn't this great? Isn't this lovely?
And then you walk into the Little Wood.
And it is oh so quiet,
The stillness of it all,
The picture postcard perfection of it all,
Makes your heart melt
And you hope the snow around you doesn't.
- Published on
I have a to-do list a mile long
And a stack of emails to reply to,
And friends to connect with,
People I love and cherish and miss to say "dear friend, I love and cherish and miss you" to.
And homework, and research, and practise, and learning all to be done.
But right now,
I have a cup of tea
And beautiful music playing,
And outside the snow fairies are dancing,
And the road is turning from black to white,
And the grass is turning from green to white.
And my breath is fogging up the window.
And my little Aussie soul is laughing,
Because here she is,
In a land far away
Where it's properly cold
And it snows!
And it is lovely.
The end.
And a stack of emails to reply to,
And friends to connect with,
People I love and cherish and miss to say "dear friend, I love and cherish and miss you" to.
And homework, and research, and practise, and learning all to be done.
But right now,
I have a cup of tea
And beautiful music playing,
And outside the snow fairies are dancing,
And the road is turning from black to white,
And the grass is turning from green to white.
And my breath is fogging up the window.
And my little Aussie soul is laughing,
Because here she is,
In a land far away
Where it's properly cold
And it snows!
And it is lovely.
The end.
- Published on
You're standing outside St Paul's Cathedral
That giant dome
That signifier of your childhood
Mary Poppins on VHS
Watching it and rewining it and watching it and rewinding it until the tape falls apart
And you think:
What brings us to a place?
Depression when you were fourteen.
Sitting on the train on that bright blue sky day and realizing
You don't feel anything
And then all those intervening years.
The deaths of two friends. Young women like you. They decided they couldn't do
it anymore.
Sitting at Coogee Beach and looking out to the ocean and wondering what on earth was next.
Learning about mindfulness.
Two years and a world trip later.
Waiting for the hair dressers and chatting with the woman, a stranger, sitting next to you.
She told you how you could do a certificate in Meditation.
Who was that woman???
And then Kris.
And then London.
And then meeting another woman on the train.
A random conversation, a chance encounter, and you've met a kindred spirit.
And then you are standing outside St. Paul's Cathedral and the familiarity of it, the instant I'm-home of it is shocking every time.
That tall grand building with its dome lit the way it is
It makes you gasp.
It's so much a part of you,
A part of your childhood,
Despite the fact you grew up over 10,000 miles away.
And then you're inside The Anthologist.
A bar in Central London.
And there are birdcages and tea cups and mason jars full of tea lights.
And there is a group of women, with the occasional man, gathered
to talk about mindfulness
Strong, radiating women, with a mission to change the world one meditation at a time.
And you're here because of a chance (synchronistic) encounter on a train
Or because you watched Mary Poppins on repeat as a child
Or because you had depression and you learnt about mindfulness and because the world is small it all leads back to the same place eventually
And you stand outside St Paul's
And you let the cold air rush into your nostrils (breathing mindfully)
And then you laugh because you're on your way home on the tube!
Tell that to your fourteen year old self, or even your four-year-old self,
Dear You/Me/Us.
Guess what? You grow up and fall in love and move to London and walk past St.
Paul's Cathedral and mingle with people in fancy bars and one day you even climb
to the top of the dome and you kiss a boy with the rooftops of London as your
backdrop. For real.
What brings us here?
Fate? Synchronicity?
Chance?
The world.
The end.
That giant dome
That signifier of your childhood
Mary Poppins on VHS
Watching it and rewining it and watching it and rewinding it until the tape falls apart
And you think:
What brings us to a place?
Depression when you were fourteen.
Sitting on the train on that bright blue sky day and realizing
You don't feel anything
And then all those intervening years.
The deaths of two friends. Young women like you. They decided they couldn't do
it anymore.
Sitting at Coogee Beach and looking out to the ocean and wondering what on earth was next.
Learning about mindfulness.
Two years and a world trip later.
Waiting for the hair dressers and chatting with the woman, a stranger, sitting next to you.
She told you how you could do a certificate in Meditation.
Who was that woman???
And then Kris.
And then London.
And then meeting another woman on the train.
A random conversation, a chance encounter, and you've met a kindred spirit.
And then you are standing outside St. Paul's Cathedral and the familiarity of it, the instant I'm-home of it is shocking every time.
That tall grand building with its dome lit the way it is
It makes you gasp.
It's so much a part of you,
A part of your childhood,
Despite the fact you grew up over 10,000 miles away.
And then you're inside The Anthologist.
A bar in Central London.
And there are birdcages and tea cups and mason jars full of tea lights.
And there is a group of women, with the occasional man, gathered
to talk about mindfulness
Strong, radiating women, with a mission to change the world one meditation at a time.
And you're here because of a chance (synchronistic) encounter on a train
Or because you watched Mary Poppins on repeat as a child
Or because you had depression and you learnt about mindfulness and because the world is small it all leads back to the same place eventually
And you stand outside St Paul's
And you let the cold air rush into your nostrils (breathing mindfully)
And then you laugh because you're on your way home on the tube!
Tell that to your fourteen year old self, or even your four-year-old self,
Dear You/Me/Us.
Guess what? You grow up and fall in love and move to London and walk past St.
Paul's Cathedral and mingle with people in fancy bars and one day you even climb
to the top of the dome and you kiss a boy with the rooftops of London as your
backdrop. For real.
What brings us here?
Fate? Synchronicity?
Chance?
The world.
The end.
- Published on
from the Australian Business Review
They announced Geoffrey Rush as
Australian of the Year
He is the person
Who this year, most
Epitomises what it means
To be Australian
And it makes me feel good
Makes me feel proud
As an artist
As an Australian
To know that someone like him, is
The Representation
Of my national identity
The other Australians of note this year
Are also worthy of recognition.
Laurie Baymarrwangga,
An Aboriginal elder who has worked to
Teach and share and maintain her culture
In spite of invasion
In spite of ignorance
And Marita Cheng
Who inspires other young women
To go out into a world
Dominated by men
And question, and investigate, and analyze
And to become excited and passionate
About learning
And Lynne Sawyers
Who cared for hundreds of children
Not even her own
Took them in and said
This is your home too
We are artists and scientists and carers of the land
We are inventors and innovators
We are from all over the world
We live, work, and travel internationally
We live, work, and play in our own backyard
This strange large island
At the bottom of the earth
We are more than kangaroos and wattle
We are more than yobbos on the beach drinking beer
We are more than the Anzac legend suggests
More than boyish mates coming together under fire
We are more than a flag coloured by British rule
We are a complicated lot
Represented this year, by an actor
Who gets on with his work
And supports others to do the same
Who shows it is possible to be
A brilliant artist of the world
And still be, Australian in name.
Australian of the Year
He is the person
Who this year, most
Epitomises what it means
To be Australian
And it makes me feel good
Makes me feel proud
As an artist
As an Australian
To know that someone like him, is
The Representation
Of my national identity
The other Australians of note this year
Are also worthy of recognition.
Laurie Baymarrwangga,
An Aboriginal elder who has worked to
Teach and share and maintain her culture
In spite of invasion
In spite of ignorance
And Marita Cheng
Who inspires other young women
To go out into a world
Dominated by men
And question, and investigate, and analyze
And to become excited and passionate
About learning
And Lynne Sawyers
Who cared for hundreds of children
Not even her own
Took them in and said
This is your home too
We are artists and scientists and carers of the land
We are inventors and innovators
We are from all over the world
We live, work, and travel internationally
We live, work, and play in our own backyard
This strange large island
At the bottom of the earth
We are more than kangaroos and wattle
We are more than yobbos on the beach drinking beer
We are more than the Anzac legend suggests
More than boyish mates coming together under fire
We are more than a flag coloured by British rule
We are a complicated lot
Represented this year, by an actor
Who gets on with his work
And supports others to do the same
Who shows it is possible to be
A brilliant artist of the world
And still be, Australian in name.
- Published on
In the morning you go out to meet another Aussie-expat and you go to a lovely Australian/New-Zealander cafe called Flat White and enjoy your renewed-found love of coffee. You make a note-to-self to find an alternative to espresso, as even four sugars per tiny cup seems excessive - though it is down from five. You enjoy delicious toast with homemade hummus and fresh avocado. It is the best hummus you have had in ages but you spend the rest of the day paranoid you reek of garlic. Afterwards you walk through beautiful
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.
- Published on
A year ago today I knew I was moving to London but I didn’t know how
A year ago today my best friend was despairing that he would never meet someone and in six months he’s getting married.
A year ago today I had no idea what 2011 would bring but I knew it would be exciting.
And it was. It was exciting. It was lovely. It was hard. It was emotional. It was inspiring. It was draining. It was everything I had hoped it could be and so much more. I met my heroes. I fell in love. I moved to a whole other country.
And here we are on the brink of 2012.
The Occupy Movement is rustling.
I have six months left at school.
Another trip to America is on the cards.
After that? Who knows?
They say that 2012 was the end of the Mayan calendar
That the end of the world is nigh.
But I choose to believe it's all about to change.
There is a shift, a quickening, a change in the air,
And I’m not quite sure what it holds.
But I breathe, and trust, and light, and love,
And know that something’s just around the river bend.
Because something’s coming. Something good.
Could be. Hold still.
This is the beginning.
A year ago today my best friend was despairing that he would never meet someone and in six months he’s getting married.
A year ago today I had no idea what 2011 would bring but I knew it would be exciting.
And it was. It was exciting. It was lovely. It was hard. It was emotional. It was inspiring. It was draining. It was everything I had hoped it could be and so much more. I met my heroes. I fell in love. I moved to a whole other country.
And here we are on the brink of 2012.
The Occupy Movement is rustling.
I have six months left at school.
Another trip to America is on the cards.
After that? Who knows?
They say that 2012 was the end of the Mayan calendar
That the end of the world is nigh.
But I choose to believe it's all about to change.
There is a shift, a quickening, a change in the air,
And I’m not quite sure what it holds.
But I breathe, and trust, and light, and love,
And know that something’s just around the river bend.
Because something’s coming. Something good.
Could be. Hold still.
This is the beginning.
- Published on
Imagine going out for a stroll
And a little while from your house
Are not one, but three woods!
And they are part of ancient woodland systems
Visited by people for thousands of years
And you walk along a well-worn path
And although it is December
And the middle of winter
Everything is so green!
And you smile at the holly and the ivy
And the families playing soccer in the park
And the mud beneath your boots
And at the end of a long walk
You find yourself in an Indian restaurant
In the middle of London
Eating delicious courses of spicy tomato soups
And vegetables and rice mixed with large helpings of coriander
And you walk home
And the sun sets around 3pm
And you enjoy another cup of tea
And you think
This is London
And it is lovely.
The end.
And a little while from your house
Are not one, but three woods!
And they are part of ancient woodland systems
Visited by people for thousands of years
And you walk along a well-worn path
And although it is December
And the middle of winter
Everything is so green!
And you smile at the holly and the ivy
And the families playing soccer in the park
And the mud beneath your boots
And at the end of a long walk
You find yourself in an Indian restaurant
In the middle of London
Eating delicious courses of spicy tomato soups
And vegetables and rice mixed with large helpings of coriander
And you walk home
And the sun sets around 3pm
And you enjoy another cup of tea
And you think
This is London
And it is lovely.
The end.
- Published on
Remember the ice fairies in Fantasia
Who swooped across the world
And left frozen sparkling trails in their wake?
They visited my street tonight
Whilst I was out
Watching The Nutcracker
A new version of it
No sugarplum fairies or dancing Russians
Instead fluffy pink party girls and bikers
No grand balls
But an austere orphanage
Matthew Bourne’s uncanny ability to modernise and remake the classics
But the music remains
And Tchaikovsky’s score is still as beautiful now as it was when I was 7 and taking ballet and twirling around the living room with my arms up-
And walking home with my love’s hand in mine
The world had been visited by ice fairies
Fallen leaves on the ground covered in frost
Evergreens, the road, the post box, garbage bins
All sparkling silver, really as if the fairies had skipped over everything with their chilly toes and wintery wings
And the night was clear
And the stars were in the sky
And the air was chilly and crisp
And the fairies were invisible
But their glittery trails remained
The end.
Who swooped across the world
And left frozen sparkling trails in their wake?
They visited my street tonight
Whilst I was out
Watching The Nutcracker
A new version of it
No sugarplum fairies or dancing Russians
Instead fluffy pink party girls and bikers
No grand balls
But an austere orphanage
Matthew Bourne’s uncanny ability to modernise and remake the classics
But the music remains
And Tchaikovsky’s score is still as beautiful now as it was when I was 7 and taking ballet and twirling around the living room with my arms up-
And walking home with my love’s hand in mine
The world had been visited by ice fairies
Fallen leaves on the ground covered in frost
Evergreens, the road, the post box, garbage bins
All sparkling silver, really as if the fairies had skipped over everything with their chilly toes and wintery wings
And the night was clear
And the stars were in the sky
And the air was chilly and crisp
And the fairies were invisible
But their glittery trails remained
The end.
- Published on
Imagine one day you’re in London and you’re Living The Dream!
You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life
And suddenly here you are!
At one of the top drama schools in the world!
And every day you climb the steps to the school and
Literally engraved into the rise of the steps
Are the names of people who’ve been here before.
People who have “Made It”
In the profession
This crazy business like no other.
Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?
What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?
What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?
When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the
worry, or the anxiety.
Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you
expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your
whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?!
Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say,“Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince!
An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”
Because what if you are,
What a prince would envision?
Although how can you know
Who you are till you know
What you want, which you don’t?
You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue,
without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal.
You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes,
“Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.
The end.
You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life
And suddenly here you are!
At one of the top drama schools in the world!
And every day you climb the steps to the school and
Literally engraved into the rise of the steps
Are the names of people who’ve been here before.
People who have “Made It”
In the profession
This crazy business like no other.
Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?
What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?
What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?
When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the
worry, or the anxiety.
Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you
expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your
whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?!
Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say,“Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince!
An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”
Because what if you are,
What a prince would envision?
Although how can you know
Who you are till you know
What you want, which you don’t?
You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue,
without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal.
You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes,
“Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.
The end.
- Published on
This is the beginning
Of the beginning
Or so they say
But there’s definitely a rumble and a stir
A change in the air that says
Something’s coming, something good
As people of all ages and backgrounds
Gather to demand something different
A change in the way things are run
They converge in city squares
And in front of financial institutions
They bring tents
And attempt to give voice to everyone present
They even occupy empty bank buildings
Reclaiming the space for the public
To say alright! We’ve had enough!
We’re sick and tired of a world
Governed in a way that is
Unsustainable, unhealthy, unjust
As Matt Taibbi’s friend says,
f*#! this shit!
And it’s not just America.
It’s Egypt and Tunisia and Libya and Bahrain
and Syria and Yemen and Algeria and Iraq and Jordan and Morocco and Oman and Kuwait and Lebanon and Mauritania and Saudi Arabia and Sudan and Western Sahara and South Africa and Spain and Greece and France and Germany and Portugal and England and Ireland and Scotland and Canada and Argentina and Mexico and Brazil and Hong Kong and Malaysia and Australia and New Zealand and the list goes on and on...
And as the protests grow and refuse to be catergorized
Refuse to be silenced
The police show up in ever increasing numbers
With riot gear and pepper spray
And the right-wing politicians tell those damned hippies to go home and take a shower
At the end of the day
What are we fighting for?
Police v. protestors v. politicians v. presidents v. prime ministers v. people
Whatever costume you’re wearing
It’s all people fighting people fighting people
As twenty-something Kate Monster asks,
Why can’t people love each other and get along
Christmas Eve?
I hope this is a chance for change
For the system to be made accountable
To create a world that is
Sustainable, healthy, just
We have to believe something better is possible
Or we will never even be able to attempt to create it
Of the beginning
Or so they say
But there’s definitely a rumble and a stir
A change in the air that says
Something’s coming, something good
As people of all ages and backgrounds
Gather to demand something different
A change in the way things are run
They converge in city squares
And in front of financial institutions
They bring tents
And attempt to give voice to everyone present
They even occupy empty bank buildings
Reclaiming the space for the public
To say alright! We’ve had enough!
We’re sick and tired of a world
Governed in a way that is
Unsustainable, unhealthy, unjust
As Matt Taibbi’s friend says,
f*#! this shit!
And it’s not just America.
It’s Egypt and Tunisia and Libya and Bahrain
and Syria and Yemen and Algeria and Iraq and Jordan and Morocco and Oman and Kuwait and Lebanon and Mauritania and Saudi Arabia and Sudan and Western Sahara and South Africa and Spain and Greece and France and Germany and Portugal and England and Ireland and Scotland and Canada and Argentina and Mexico and Brazil and Hong Kong and Malaysia and Australia and New Zealand and the list goes on and on...
And as the protests grow and refuse to be catergorized
Refuse to be silenced
The police show up in ever increasing numbers
With riot gear and pepper spray
And the right-wing politicians tell those damned hippies to go home and take a shower
At the end of the day
What are we fighting for?
Police v. protestors v. politicians v. presidents v. prime ministers v. people
Whatever costume you’re wearing
It’s all people fighting people fighting people
As twenty-something Kate Monster asks,
Why can’t people love each other and get along
Christmas Eve?
I hope this is a chance for change
For the system to be made accountable
To create a world that is
Sustainable, healthy, just
We have to believe something better is possible
Or we will never even be able to attempt to create it