30 October 2014

Today’s Lesson

Today’s lesson is the accent on doing only those 
things you believe accord the greatest ovation, a 
persuasion ignoring how tawdry it can be - to put 
it more sanely - ignoring the wages of sin means 
someone still has to pay; so we play those fancy 
games with roller-applied rich terracotta paint to
concrete expanse that passes as our patio, and 
hey, lookee here, now ain’t that just great! 

And it is - where practising finally achieved skill 
enough to get it right, so there is a wee bit we’ll 
have another crack at, but not tonight, cleaning 
floor tile grouting with bleach put paid to energy 
that remained, anyway, the final strokes belong 
to she whose brilliant idea it was 

It’ll give her comfort - so while window exteriors 
are still to clean and a carpet or two to vacuum - 
we’ve finally achieved what we hope will be the 
presentation best to sell the bloody place, I say 
it’s far too clean to live in comfortably - but then 
it isn’t my case to second guess 

© 8 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

29 October 2014


It has to be said, there is no possibility of an 
Ellis Park, Johannesburg, rugby match ever 
being influenced by bias less; idiocy isn’t in 
question except within referee’s ineptness - 
and a Pommie isn’t the blessing best for an 
on-field Jaapies arch hegemony, less likely 
for an All Black opponent’s quest, either for 
common rules to be played within propriety 

Or those orchestrated impressions of who’s 
‘infidel' normality is the one that matters; for 
th’ record, a missed conversion’s difference 
gave the Jaapies a win - deserved I guess,  
or am I imagining a game I didn’t see; what 
I like was how relieved th’ Jaapies seem’d 

© 5 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

28 October 2014

Humour In Pink

While the fate of my footy team fell a bit short of 
disgrace there is a rancour of other sides whose 
below-par performance did, won’t name-mention 
any shameful coterie particularly, they know who 
are asses wearing the donkey’s capes; but I will 
say Wellington Lions last game almost atoned a 
seven losses, one win record, because it played 
out a passionate finale with dramatic panache 

In the end humour was a winner as well as that 
massive score (Lions 58 - Harbour 34) - all of it 
a worthy outcome of open-played and vigorous 
contest where both sides let the game rule; tho’ 
let me suggest the only fools this day wore pink 
as astounding all equally run-around referees 

© 12 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

27 October 2014

Dressing Bricks

If anything can do it then a 2m x 1m print of 
that setting should seize the eye - a picture 
which captures and renders sea scenery so 
specially; its like having bona fide views of a 
beach through this blue window in our dark 
brick wall - now no-longer foreboding, more 
gracefully tamed actually, with invitations to 
stroll down the steps, walk in the sand 

And so easy to imagine hand in hand as a 
precursor to togetherness; that’s the key - 
accessibility - it isn’t the morning’s termite 
swarm, nor all the painting still to be done, 
but an idea of a whole world beyond brick 
denotations of locality entrancing me 

© 9 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

26 October 2014

Back To Earth

Role-playing this marque of indolence isn’t as 
arduous as I thought it would be, but then I’ve 
been preparing for the part for years; and that 
thespian view merges grandiloquent qualities 
into irrefutable proof character-true portrayals 
are extensions of the same denouement we’ll 
cry wolf for any day; so we are assiduously in 
mode of that play for an afternoon's cirque 

But the call just received suggests there is an 
inescapable responsibility to accept not all the 
viewers are keen theatre-goers; some wish to 
bask in communal fusion of an ordinary spa
warmed without the menage of poseur-paced
recalcitrance engaged in symbolic delusion 

© 1 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

25 October 2014

As If It Explains

A bit like saying - before you lose context, get used to 
this - you’re not the first; well golly - as if it is pertinent 
and explains the meaning of your predicament; every
darn thing seems to have exemplars somewhere - an 
out-of-role character making pithy observations you’d 
decided is a damn menace; so what if I’m not the 1st, 
it’s MY quandary isn’t it, I can view it however the hell 
I like - so we’ll leave it there, and move on, won’t we 

Or will we debate whether there is a debate to this, a 
free-range accusatory smorgasbord where we pick & 
choose gobbets of deranged delusion using them as 
clubs and spears to gain the upper hand; be clubbed 
or be dubbed, stands to reason that treasonous acts 
forsake this debacle’s simpering shebang of a wake 

While the nub of it stays deaf to fidelity’s ache … 

© 6 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

24 October 2014


Creating the idea convincingly would be like 
taking a piece of the Grand Canyon in hand 
and reworking it, not too dramatically - but if 
there are too few trees, plant more - shift all 
that loose rock so it looks like its natural - in 
an embankment; you’ll get a view into focus 
and spell out what is missing to urbanites, if 
they have such ideas of panoramic space 

But it is a case more-so, of selling the place, 
a practical reality which the dream of what it 
could mean to anyone with vision enough to 
see finds too little to ignite the right common 
cause of a parlance left to self-interest - not 
these unadulterated wonders of the World 

© 25 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

23 October 2014

The Hammer

If there’s truth in it its congeniality fled silently, an 
arbiter of good manners you might conjecture - if 
you cared enough, tho’ that’s begging a question 
of whose decorum was at stake; for art’s making 
mockery too of well-bred social behaviour’s truth 
that you’d wish to avoid - in more ways than this 
travesty of consensual conviviality phrased in an 
impartial way to sell the whole caboodle as gold 

If the hammer falls and the offering’s sold proves 
us wrong - then it’s a failure doomed to repetitive 
affirmation and much to our chagrin won't matter 
a mouldy centavo; - in the industry they all smile
taking their commission running & spend it again 
and again, proving their gracious insatiability 

© 27 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

22 October 2014


Finding that space where all words blend 
easy again ain't the sinecure it used to be; 
it takes a slower pace with plan change & 
interpolated ideas less their disgracefully
inherent anxieties displayed graphically 

But by scribing yourself mental sanctuary 
regardless you demolish what might have 
prevailed as cause for sufficiency; yet if it 
still dithers without real purpose - then off 
with its head quick and back to this earth 

So here are we with headless objections 
piled messily between us and where we 
are supposed to breathe; structures with 
purpose as walls of regret retaining what 
supposedly wasn’t enabled for us; like I 

Say, it isn’t easy to find that space - but 
I’m at peace with a process advancing a 
pace where relief will be the next track’s 
bend because I made it that way - in an 
unrelenting quest for sense of stability 

© 29 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

21 October 2014

Shopping Relief

Survived Georgia’s initial remain-home and 
watch-movies decision while Cathy ’n Gran 
were shopping; it may’ve been a mission to 
test my resolve, but then the idea palled on 
a thought she might miss a Bunnings visit - 
reconsidering involved no stress that we’d 
discern, and she was up running to dress - 
without a display of contingent regret 

To suggest it was not an ominous occasion 
may not be too far from the truth although I 
am legacy to a new level of consideration - 
the good faith embraced by a staying here 
choice erased all manly gains professed in 
relief of being freed from their girly’s quest 

© 3 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

20 October 2014

Its Business

So there’s a business at back of it - and you’d 
bet large sums are changing hands; - arms & 
ammunition exist as receipts of solidity with a 
unending supply of radicals to bear them. It’s 
no chimaera, nor is it an accurate expression 
of Islam. We’re finally hearing the moderates 
voicing their concerns in increasing volume - 
all without doubt, an effect of the price of oil 

That what its about - the notion of an Islamic 
State built out of Syria & Iraq and ‘funded’ by 
the now not so ubiquitous Gulf State Sheiks 
lottery isn’t ridiculous - innocuous, sure - but 
rationally where else does the flow originate; 
and with all that free Jihadi labour - why not! 

© 24 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

19 October 2014


It is an invidious mutation of insomnia - not 
that I can’t sleep - or don’t, but the fear’s in 
awe of what happens if you’re not ‘aware’ - 

So I’m awake worrying where this will lead, 
awake in the sense I’m at least not asleep - 
concerned I’m not ready to be ‘elsewhere’ 

And there’s the dilemma; ‘here’ is going to 
cease, nothing can alter its passing into an 
another place - not even me when I awake 

But being aware hasn’t made this here any 
easier to depart from - was always there; if 
you awoke, supposedly in consciousness, 

The same things crowded in to greet you, it 
was always the way it seemed; now I’m lost 
imagining where it’ll go; There’ll have to be 

Space and solidity to awaken in, guarantee 
that and I’ll be really pleased - if somewhat 
bereaved - but I can live with that, easily… 

© 24 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

18 October 2014


Great friendship lasts beyond amend’s pale - it is 
intimacies only true form of familiarity - but, sadly 
where its benefice ends is that tragical beginning 
of anomie. And here it is the case, you’ve cast all 
pretence of it aside like a reckoning will never be, 
for grace of continued affinity won’t dissuade you 
desiring larger space, that you claim lost against 
induced distaste inimical to connubial efficacy 

It is an overwhelming indictment - measured in a 
manner where what you achieve supersedes any 
matrix of generous rapport, too much liability you 
are heard to digress, and for what it furnishes I’d 
best be freed its omnipresence; you’ve flown the 
coup for a song without words sung where solo 

Voices assure peace of mind, no less a dirge for 
friendship’s quivering death; pardon me in being 
bereft please - ours was a friendship sublime - if 
only in my mind, yet it grew into a partnership of 
consideration you traded as if there never was a 
mutual dependancy clear from whence it came 

C’est la vie I’m supposed to say, while worrying 
what’s become of a person who befriended me 
until her need faded - and then flew away … 

© 2 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

17 October 2014

A Bit Like Saying …

A bit like saying - before you lose context, get used to 
this - you’re not the first; well golly - as if it is pertinent 
and explains the meaning of your predicament; every
darn thing seems to have exemplars somewhere - an 
out-of-role character making pithy observations you’d 
decided is a damn menace; so what if I’m not the 1st, 
it’s MY quandary isn’t it, I can view it however the hell 
I like - so we’ll leave it there, and move on, won’t we 

Or will we debate whether there is a debate to this, a 
free-range accusatory smorgasbord where we pick & 
choose gobbets of deranged delusion using them as 
clubs and spears to gain the upper hand; be clubbed 
or be dubbed, stands to reason that treasonous acts 
forsake this debacle’s simpering shebang of a wake 

While the nub of it stays deaf to fidelity’s ache … 

© 6 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

16 October 2014

Cupboard’s Not Bare

On the brighter side - there’s a moment’s glow 
to brighten what you’d swear is dourly grey - a 
pair of specs unsighted since Tuesday tho’ not 
organic to this search appear as if by magic, a 
bonus of partial success; smarter surely to see 
what you’re actually looking for, but only if you 
seriously knew where to really commence that 
stolid implementation of a ‘looking for’ plan 

You didn’t think to query said specs lying on a 
spare room bed - you seek an overdue library 
book you last saw on your lounge-chair table - 
before our lounge room re-design began. With 
redecorator expertise she happened to have 
slept in this particular bed 

The book and specs are connected of course, 
would’ve been side by side in the lounge - but 
no book is here, so where to next; the recheck 
of overdue library notices reveals the book I’m 
seeking isn’t the one on their agenda but it is 
indeed another which I vaguely remember 

It goes from bad to worse you reflect - yet the 
overdue miscreant is traced easily because it 
remained in your bedroom; so the dilemma’s 
exactly where would she have laid away the 
remainder of the lounge room library - and its 
answer is anywhere with out-of-view space 

There are wardrobes, drawers and cabinets 
galore awaiting your grace - and blissfully 
the cupboard’s here were never that bare … 

© 30 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

15 October 2014


The bees break a monotony you wouldn’t 
test as sacrosanct; all as busy as, and all 
insistent they’ll need water in the birdbath 
 - it’s a display of pertinacity I cannot fake 
an interest in; when taking a spell from an 
unenviable task of nectar gathering, they 
circle the thin water smear, skating to the 
edges in controlled live-puddle-landings 

stopping and sampling moisture I’ve been 
surreptitiously adding; it is amazing - I am 
ignored now as another non-invasive part 
of the whole scene - or they reason it that 
way, slaking their fill, and flying off in their 
inimitable display of bee-busy-ness 

© 4 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

14 October 2014

Finals, Again

Its that time of year again, games down 
to th’ final few before we’ll see who’ll be 
th’ champs or languish as the also-rans; 
whichever way you’re set no doubt’ll get 
your blood a-roar - altho’ there is a slew 
who couldn’t give a ‘ballyhoo' who wore 
th’ crown or drew the shorter straw; and 
in that breath for vanity we all withdraw 

It ain’t my team by ‘faith’ you’ll jeer with  
reason-soaked profanities we voiced in 
jest because we can; and when th’ final 
whistle blends frenzied seasons quests 
in innuendos left t’ dry you’ll be a wiser 
goose again - & heed th’ karma why
© 7 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

13 October 2014

Grinding Again

To suggest I actually ‘fixed’ the electric salt grinder 
behests a belief I may have had some idea I knew 
how to; that’s so far from the truth, the facts are all 
I could be sure of was it didn’t do what it ought, so 
we dissembled it to see why. Only six tiny screws - 
but a finicky process of optical screwdriver use, no 
regular Phillips would do; but there was nothing to 
obviously state with clarity ‘here’s th’ cause mate’ 

So we reassemble it patiently, learning the spring-
loaded pieces will only go together the one way; a 
lot of curses ensue, plus impromptu ‘modification’ 
of the small optical driver - then we’re altogether - 
although not in the sense of unity - press go - and 
gee whiz, it whirred - began salt grinding again! 

© 13 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

12 October 2014

Chivalry Test

Tempted to give it the bird - in their manner of 
thinking the insult’s from lacking chivalry; aha, 
you’d mean ‘finger’ I guess - that’d be a once- 
only gesture of discourteousness categorically 
registered in bigwig minds unappreciative of a 
view they’re playing dipstick ineffectually; who 
it was invented such simple insulting etiquette 
should be hallowed eternally a good example 

So you do your best; they don’t notice at first, 
there’s a problem with the finger on the hand 
you’re gesturing with, they suggest its far too 
bent - being an indication of disability - which 
means you’re at the wrong desk - take a first 
turn left and follow the corridor to the end 

Seems you failed the chivalry test … 

© 8 September 2014, I. D. Carswell

11 October 2014

Strains Of Humanity

If we can’t see stupidity dressed in a suitcase 
of lies we shouldn’t travel guide; nor can it be 
okay reading children’s fables averring there’s 
miracles awaiting any enabling its key, tho’ not 
practically of course, its a metaphor for seeing 
beyond timbre of words; - yet in this day & age 
we’re supposed to keep clear of those radicals’ 
inhumane acts as pursuits of their holiness 

That secularity isn’t a misspelling of ‘gagged’ is 
anathema to fundamentalist belief - any theism 
commandeers deistic relief, but there’s still only 
one faith when you get down to it - and that’s if 
you can imagine it - it exists to believe in, but if 
you’re not of it then it may mean you don’t exist  

So I say the words which make me who I am in 
my own form of piety and they seem clear - not 
in the way of radical or extremist believers who 
cannot hear songs of the universe; it’s too rank 
a perversion of secular ideology for their favour 
but both my ears tune, hear and savour it well 

And there I hear humanity’s strains - alive and  
well as ever, with their command to see to the 
barbarism of these inhuman beasts killing in a 
merciless display of their alleged sacredness
take ‘em away comes a heartfelt plea, they’ll 
never belong to our human race 

© 19 September 2014, I. D. Carswell