Poems Galley extended ..... up

The Poems Galley has now been extended ..... up ..... with capacity for 125 poems. There is also a new room for art, which will be handy when the next planned exhibition is hung.

TasTimes ~ Avatar

The poem ~ Avatar ~ has now been published in the Tasmanian Times .....

https://tasmaniantimes.com/2019/01/avatar/

A Papuan Christmas

A Papuan Christmas is an earlier poem on West Papua, written for an exhibition on West Papua as part of Human Rights Week in Hobart, Tasmania, in 1997. West Papuan refugee, Rex Rumakiek, attended the opening, with a talk by Tasmanian politician, John White MP, who later that day read the poem out in the Tasmanian Parliament, so that it is now permaently recorded in the Hansard.

A Papuan Christmas

Far away in Europe

in 1848

the island of New Guinea

was carved up like a Christmas Cake

A quarter to the Germans

a quarter to the Brits

and half for the Dutch

a three way split

Did anyone ask the Papuans

Did anyone say please?

Were they invited to the party?

Or was someone being mean?

Far away in Europe

half way round the world

the destiny of Papua

was legally upheld

Now the people cry

“Freedom from the yoke

freedom from the colonialist

who treat us like a joke!”

Jaqi

Bluh

December

1997

New report tells of murder, kidnapping and torture in West Papua

Mark Bowling, 14 March 2016, Asia Pacific Report
https://asiapacificreport.nz/2016/03/14/new-report-tells-of-murder-kidnapping-and-torture-in-west-papua/

"Allegations of recent military and police intimidation, beatings and torture, kidnapping and murder in West Papua, have been documented in a new Church report. The report documents Muslims being radicalised in the once predominantly Christian Papuan provinces, and “very active” Muslim militias that burn down Papuan houses. The report was compiled by the Brisbane Catholic Justice and Peace Commission’s Shadow Human Rights Fact Finding Mission to West Papua, following a visit to West Papua last month.” ~ "It refers to a slow motion genocide happening and states that “the Indonesians want to replace the Christian religion with Islam”."

POEM ~ Morning Star ~ 17 Jan 2019

Morning Star


This was the farthest step from planet Earth
when an explorer stepped onto the Moon
to look for cheese, but found only dust
It was the furthest step from the dawn of time
when elders of the ancient nations of Papua
were told to step over a line draw in dust

The hearts of the home planet people were ecstatic
as astronauts pranced on the Sea of Tranquility
collecting Moon rocks for the boffins of Earth
The hearts of the Papuans were drowning in tears
lectured harshly under the shadow of guns
to surrender freedom on this mad Earth

The great chief of the astronauts was watching
from the capital of the nation taking freedom
wished the astronauts excellent adventure
The chiefs of the Papuans were humbled with grief
and like Geronimo once fought a war to be free
Papuans fought against Indonesia's adventure

The great space escapade rolls on day and night
seeking ways to live on the high stellar frontier
to find the freedom of space among stars
The great Papuan dystopia sinks in blood and mud
searching for a way to find freedom on this Earth
seeking a way for for life beneath the stars 

Outer space is zillions of times vaster than this Earth 
nations can know more land than wildest dreams
just spread out among stars in joyful peace
It's stifling in the Papuan lands after decades of war
where Papuans end up in jail for flying their flag
or get shot for daring to call for peace

It was one small step for man onto a whole new world
now we wonder how soon the giant leap to the stars
with celestial space for nations to spread out
It will be one small step on Earth to reach to space
one giant leap in space to bring peace on Earth
Papuans free from nations that spread out

Celestial space offers peace for humans to explore
knowing freedom and joy of flying among stars
using the power of the Sun to keep Earth safe
Celestial space offers the way to Papuan freedom
opening ways for all nations to know happiness
and a good life among the stars that is safe

Jaqi
Bluh

Thursday
17
January
2019

West Papuans in the ancient land that they have lived in for over 60,000 years.

NOTE ~   New Guinea was the last place on Earth to be colonised by European nations. Britain claimed the south-east, Germany the north-east, and The Netherlands claimed the western half, arranged in Europe in 1848, and without regard for the Papuan people, who have lived in this land as long as the Australian Aboriginal people have lived in Australia: believed to be around 60,000 years. Britain passed administration of the south-east to Australia in the early 1900s, and when WWI broke out, Australia invaded the north-east, with both territories being given independence by Australia in 1975, as Papua New Guinea. West Papua is the common name for the western half of New Guinea, a territory the size of France. After Indonesia gained independence from The Netherlands in 1949, the Dutch retained West Papua, but Indonesia insisted on possession of the territory, even though it was Papuan land with an ancient Papuan population. During the 1950s, Australians were on the ground in West Papua, working with the Dutch to prepare the West Papuan people for independence. On 1 December 1961 a Papuan parliament was opened, a new national anthem sung, a coat of arms presented, the West Papuan flag raised across West Papua, and 1970 declared as the year for independence. It was possible that the whole island of New Guinea could have become one large independent nation of Papuans. The Indonesian response was to begin invading New Guinea in 1962. There was going to be a war, in which the Dutch and Australian governments would have fought Indonesia to keep the West Papuan people free and able to continue on to independence. Being the heat of the Cold War, and with the United States needing a pro-Western peace with Indonesia, as events were heating up toward the war in Vietnam, The Kennedy administration intervened, told Holland to get out, Australia to butt out, and gave the green light for Indonesia to occupy West Papua, increasing its territory by 25%, and gaining possession of the soon to be largest gold and copper mine on Earth, called Freeport, along with all other resources. In 1963 Indonesia became the new colonial power in New Guinea, and with no intention of leaving. There was to be a vote on self-determination by 1970, run by the United Nations. This vote was run by Indonesia in 1969, while President Nixon was visiting Indonesia, attracting most all reporters to Jakarta, and during the time of the Moon landing of 20-21 July. Indonesia began the voting process while the United Nations observers were still in Jakarta, who then raced to West Papua to observe the last 20% of the vote. The method of voting on the fate and future of the West Papuan people, their lands, their culture, their democratic rights, was for the Indonesian colonial rulers to select 1025 elders, lecture them under the shadow of guns, draw a line on the ground, and instruct them to step over that line. No women were involved in the Act of Free Choice, as it was called, determining the destiny of 800,000 Papuans and a nation in waiting. Two Papuan elders escaped to the Australian territory, and with the assistants of concerned Australians, were about to fly to New York, to raise concerns about the "Vote with No Choice", as West Papuans call that farce, at the United Nations, but Australian authorities removed them from the plane. With no alternative but to declare war on Indonesia, who would not give up West Papua without a fight, the UN General Assembly accepted the strange farce of a vote on self-determination, and allowed half of New Guinea to be part of Indonesia. A few years later, Indonesia invaded East Timor, and after hundreds of thousands of deaths, the East Timorese people were allowed a vote on self-determination in 1999, and are now a free people, and a free nation. The killing and fighting has been remorseless in West Papua since the 1960s, with one rebellion in progress during the "Act of No Choice", with potentially more killings than happened in East Timor, and over a longer time. West Papua is the blood-soaked dark side of the Moon landing, which Indonesia used to hide their farce of a vote, while the eyes of the people of Earth were watching Neil Armstrong step onto the Moon, and President Nixon was drawing reporters to Jakarta. Over the past six decades, very few reporters have been allowed to enter West Papua, so many atrocities are never reported. Is there a way out? The West Papuan people could be allowed a real vote on self-determination. Will the nations of Earth stand up and ask for Indonesia to allow a properly run vote on self-determination for the Papuan people of western New Guinea? Would Indonesia agree? One way out of the killing of West Papua, could be with space development. Indonesia could be a hundred times wealthier with a hundred times more territory in orbital space habitats, so, would that be a good trade-off, to allow West Papuan self-determination? For a photo essay on West Papua, or Netherlands New Guinea as it was known at the time, made just before the Indonesian occupation, find a copy of the National Geographic of May 1962. Anyone who is not seriously angered about the treatment of the West Papuan people, needs to visit their doctor, to make sure that they are still alive.

After a Human Rights Week parade in Hobart 1997, with West Papuan refugee, resident in Australia, Rex Rumakiek holding the banner by the bird of paradise.

West Papuans holding placards and the Morning Star flag, calling for UN assistance, after Indonesia's invasion of West Papua in 1962.

Though satyrical, this YouTube presents the brutal truth on West Papua ~

Honest Government Ad ~ Visit West Papua! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjU8R8oj328

Why nearly 2 million people are demanding an independence vote for West Papua province
Tasha Wibawa, 30 January 2019, ABC News Online

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-01-30/west-papuans-fight-for-another-independence-referendum/10584336

POEM ~ Moonlight ~ 15 Jan 2019

Moonlight

Waves crack onto the beach like a whip
where no wind blows in the frozen night
with a golden Moon rising over hills
reflecting black water in shadowed light 

A dinghy glides in with splash of oars
a distant sliding onto sand
waves crash against wood
see dark silhouettes of a band

Concern begins to rise within
my old friend told me this would come
I did not understand the meaning
but could now feel that time was a drum

I begin to run toward the house
heart pounding where branches slap
I stumble, I fall, then run on harder
but the house is empty, like a trap

Running again to the empty beach
across the cold sand to see a ship
standing in the freezing black sea
another wave cracks like a whip

Sails raised in shimmering moonlight
my old friend is sailing away
to another place and another time
across the sea through ocean spray

Sad, and happy, I stumble back
over sand in the silent night
to be by the dying fire, the glowing coals
his empty glasses glimmering in fire's light

The book left open and only half read
with a story to go on in life
of a cart-load of memories
giving comfort when there is strife

The house crumbles where trees grow
the waves arrive upon the beach
comforting as they crash in the night
and echo beneath the Moon's high reach

Surrounded by hills and clouds around
surrounded by time and days and night
surrounded by tears and laughter
surrounded by memories of a good life

Bounding on through day and night
bounding on to what life brings
bounding on with imagination
bounding on with laughter that sings

Hammering ideas to be new forms
hammering visions to be bright
hammering knowledge to be wise
hammering wisdom to take flight 

Until some moonlit night
when waves crack like a whip
a dinghy comes across the bay
fetching a passenger for their ship

I can but hope that a few good words
will be remembered from my time
beyond the fickle tempests of this life
beyond the circle of my rhyme

Jaqi
Bluh

Tuesday
15
January
2019

NOTE ~ The first four lines of this poem hung forever, as if executed from the body of the poem by a French guillotine. That muse of mine kept total silence, until a story began to spring up, giving that lonely first verse the body of a poem. There is simply no predicting what will spring from the well of imagination and memories.

This poem is a reflection on my old friend, Aubrey Berkeley, a wise old English gentleman, from whom I learnt so much about life, and what really matters. I once asked Bark, as he was called, "What is the most important thing in life?" He was always very swift with an answer to any question, but this time, there was a deafening silence. Then, after a while, Bark answered with one word ~ "Confidence" ~ which I carved onto a stone, to remind myself, and anyone else. Bark's old house was near a beach, where the waves crashed in at times, at the same time from one end to the other, like the crack of a whip. There were cliffs nearby, where I once saw the great round Moon rising above the hills, with the light dancing across the water. Such magical moments echo through time, to haunt the imagination. The wisdom of the elders is a precious gift to us all. Bark passed on in 1973.

POEM ~ O Dear ~ 10 Jan 2019

O Dear

Saturdee night came round like a wheel

when town folk met in the pub by the creek

sharing tales to liven the stout and the beer

and any good yarns from the previous week

A song would be sung like a Lava Town anthem

with laughter to boot and new verses invented

about a kerfuffle from many years past

that stuck in the memory, quite clear and undented

"O dear, what can the matter be"

some would sing to a tune well-known

but in Lava Tree the words be unique

sprung from history, like a thunderstorm blown

Then fired by a glint in Uncle Tom's eye

it was time to start another distraction

through a trail of beer along the bar

snails would race in some slow motion action

Each numbered with colours like very small jockies

in reverence the racers were placed in position

where eyedroppers would dispense a drop of gin

that was found to spur the snails with ambition

"Poor Aunt Martha was locked in the lavatory"

It was a storm that blew through Lava Tree

uprooting a gum across the entrance of the outhouse

set in a large hollow tree and she couldn't get free

The snails were off at a hectic slow pace

Red Cruncher in the lead as the clock ticked around

followed by Green Slick enticed by more potent gin

and Yellow Razor trailed the field as if nowhere bound

"She was there from Sundee to Saturdee"

due to a total misunderstanding by one and all

everyone believed that old Aunt Martha was in town

and no one went to check or heard her call

Orange Squeezer would not be left behind

and someone muttered it was rum this time

so the eyedropper was tested as if for a drug

but bartender Maddock declared it was fine

"What can the matter be?"

Aunt Martha's fate could have been quite stark

but for the snails that lived around the outhouse

providing tucker for a week of days and dark

It would be another long night at the snail race

as Lava Tree folk shared yarns of horse and mouse

not to mention Aunt Martha's week long marathon

surviving on snails coming into the outhouse

And when finally found and released from the bog

the politest words were heard, that could be state'n

"Where the hell have you lot of useless buggers been?"

inspire'n a town song and an odd tradition of snail race'n

Back at the bar it would be another reason to sing

"O dear what can the matter be?"

as snails were distracted by the birds and the bees

and no gin or rum could unknot that slimy revelree

Jaqi

Bluh

Thursday

10

January

2019

NOTE ~   This poem follows on from two others about the imagined country town of Lava Tree, with a huge hollow tree at its heart, filled with happy country people, and surrounded by farms with jovial farmers, and with a large resident population of sheep ..... Lava Tree ..... and ..... Race Day. ~ Here is the tune for the old song, the moderate version, but hunt, and all the other versions are out there, too.

O Dear, What Can the Matter Be? ~ 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfCzl1WBCr4

POEM ~ Fireworks ~ 3 Jan 2019

Fireworks


It was an accident
really
a trick of life
with blood like nitroglycerin
I wasn't looking for a fuse
let alone a match
but there it was
lit
sizzling brightly 
burning in great anticipation
getting excited

You arrived so exotic
walking in
breasts bouncing
in rhythm
like a poem
couldn't help but see
you smiled
"Would you like a cappuccino?
Or a tea?"
You sat there with your pot brewing
Russian Caravan
smiling
laughing
bubbling away like a stream
where fish swim

My fuse was burning
O
getting shorter
sparkling too tight
Where were the firemen
with a bucket of ice?
How could I be cool
with you so hot?
I closed my eyes
The fuse hit
There were fireworks

"Are you alright?
Strange one." you asked
"Will I see you tonight?"
And you were gone
as if a dream
had swum through the night
and I woke up
alone
fumbling for my sketch pad
to draw the memory
of you

Tonight?
Fireworks?
Could I stand that again?
Gripped like a pack of
tight springs
with a fuse sizzling
within
dancing
away
heart pounding
strange

I went to the mountains
to the cold
to be cool
to freeze
in the snow
the icy water
the chilling wind
but nothing would put out that fuse
and I will see you
tonight

Jaqi
Bluh

Thursday
3
January
2019

NOTE ~   A new years' poem, mayhap, with elements of life tucked in. You can call the cafe ~ Chequers ~ in Hobart, which is the one I was thinking of. Long gone now. One day I was walking along in front of the Parliament House lawns and trees, when a woman was approaching, her breasts bouncing along merrily beneath her top. Hard not to notice, that ..... them. She smiled. Happy breasts. She had a baby in a pram. Such fleeting moments happen in life, shared reflections. I woman I once knew told me of a teenager she was meeting, visiting her home, who became excited in her presence, and came in his pants. There are times when the male biology has a mind of its own. As when asleep when a wet dream rises, and explodes, like fireworks. Women have their strife, with that time of the month, and such, but males can seem to live with a wild animal, a beast with a mind of its own. How to celebrate such????? How to tame the beast ..... like a ringmaster with a whip ..... or a nurse with a spoon.

Bull elephants can find themselves in a bother .....

Hangover in Second Life

Hangovers in Second Life are different, after a wild New Years Eve ~ via avatars. 

NOTE ~ No dinosaurs were harmed in the making of this image.