05 September 2015


Like watching the grass grow - like being awake 
between acts as scenery changes; so you think 
you’re on the team - maybe the scriptwriter who 
dreams up dialogue, dramatically delivered bon 
mots - but its pedestrian in extreme, an ageless 
parody, pastiche you’d leave gratefully shelved 
where reveries are comfortable ‘isms’ - without 
a rapaciously edited time or place to date them 

This’s in-between; either you’ve changed or its 
a re-take of an act so far away from whom you 
believe you used to be you can’t see it so, and 
slower than death-throes of a kraken’s making 
the grade better than your ‘faux’ imagination’s 
graceless but gratuitously rave masquerade 

© 2 March 2015, I. D. Carswell

04 September 2015

Intimate Space

A little less malcontent, but there’s a predictable 
bend in it they say: as you thought through more
things, the more of them you saw to be afraid of; 
it wasn’t just your state of mind, each other view 
focussed on new perspective you could only be 
in awe of if aware they existed - true, egocentric 
stance excluding you isn’t that novel - tho’ it still 
comes home to roost with shocking justification 

The me-me as opposed to us-we hub thunders 
with empty rhetoric & all definitions reek acridly, 
listening with intent tacitly distorted meanings & 
shredded ‘em before disagreement revealed it 
had never meant that to be the case anyway, a 
theatrical whole of bias & all too little, too late 

But the settlement’s been paid: sure, there’s a 
crude truth in spoils winnowed thru by an extra 
hand or two, but them’s th’ breaks; now there’s 
these new plans to renovate and a future to be 
negotiated with the best mate you’ve ever had 
the privilege to share intimate space with … 

© 1 March 2015, I. D. Carswell

03 September 2015

Wasn’t Us Mate

Hate t’ say I’ve out-grown Macca - or is it truer 
t’ suggest dingbats ringing ‘im make it démodé 
with their braggadocio; yeah, been out West a 
bit mate - I don’t care which bloody bit of been 
there done that shit we’re into - grew up & out 
of it with the rest of the 60s gang; th’ nouveau 
set are spoiled brats compared to us originals 
back when we didn’t have mobile telephones 

Yeah, the mateship was great, ’n we cared for  
the environment, but it was solitude that really 
lead us there - a space to find who we were in 
our own time without breakin’ heads or hearts, 
not like the new gen media drones claiming its 
their bloody idea on lavish satellite phones 
© 3 April 2015, I. D. Carswell

Refers to Ian Macnamara’s
Sunday radio show Australia All Over

02 September 2015


So we take a momentous leap into the present 
where we meet a brainwashed teenager who’s 
charged with plotting to explode a bomb in the 
street, or public concourse of Martin Place - or 
any densely-peopled spot for that matter - as a 
who-knows-‘blot’ way to 'express' outrage - yet 
deemed religion-motivated & hazy in ideas lots 
of murdered people are the right solution to 

Oh at least he’s not doing it for notoriety; pure 
thoughts of great ‘personal sacrifice’ are ways 
to avoid that obloquy - and yet there’s no face 
to a cause with meaning, except that of inane 
regression to an insane age where the ‘event’ 
catastrophically explains things that matter 

What need concern us is the idea we’re party 
to its genesis, bystander innocence - culpably 
connected to infected greater-malaise - we’re 
in the way where we’re needed as the ‘frame 
of reference’, being the death and destruction 
expressed as causal indices of our demise 

All I can say’s that’s some fey brainwashing! 

© 11 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

In The Shade

Writing in the bay of a fig comes easy - they 
are the kindest trees, clean of limb & shady, 
and lyrically free with a breeze in them; say 
what you will about ‘rustle and roar’ of more 
than a thousand eucalypts plus jacaranda’s 
restoring equity after the purple debut - but 
few fail to be impressed with that eclipse of 
visual grandeur - yet the fig outlasts ‘em all 

So it’s in respect of this we state these figs 
grace us with their tall and regal splendour, 
obeying call of the sun - lilt of the wind, and 
swaying in a ‘queenly’ way - gently allaying 
discordancy from the susurrations Westerly 
unease flurries within our disordered trees 

© 23 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

01 September 2015


In my defence I can say th’ intention was clearly 
there; th’ ‘Go Maroons’ flag on th’ Ute’s been up 
roiling free in th’ zephyred breeze, admittedly its 
parked outside but where all can see I’m QLDer 
thru & thru; and then there’s a ‘tru blu’ fridge full 
of beer to support the lads in their endeavours
more accurately me as the main supporter here, 
but again - it is offered as irrefutable evidence 

And a hasty check to see who was televising th’ 
match, and when it was being aired, ah ha, free 
live to the multitudes - but unfortunately not us - 
we’re in no-man’s land & need a huge antenna 
to capture FTA signal; - ah well, the ABC will be 
broadcasting it on radio live and free - else its a 

Wait ’til 10:30pm for Foxtel’s delayed coverage, 
a bugbear in any supporter language unless at 
the Pub; so we cook a ‘real-deal’ roast pumpkin 
soup with chicken breast, mushies ’n veggies & 
have a beer listening to the banter pre-game, it 
is full of blather about how good NSW are 

Not much from our team who’s silence signals 
beware, an omen if you’re into reading signs - 
so we (rather I) repair to the Lounge & my lazy 
boy recliner chair to await the broadcast - beer 
in hand, anticipating a dour struggle and cooly 
confident we won’t lie down ‘n die as ordained 

By the NSW Blues; and awaken at 10:00pm … 
like I said Your Honour, it wasn’t my plan - that 
clearly was to listen to th’ Footie & watch it if it 
could be done without too much bother - and I 
did try t’ stick t’ my guns but unfortunately it all 
came undone - & I apologise unreservedly 
© 28 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

QLD Maroons beat NSW Blues 11 - 10 in game one 
of the 2015 Rugby League State of Origin series … 
& two games later the series 2 - 1

31 August 2015

Feeding The Sharks

Feeding the Sharks - what does it imply, is it an 
orchestrated aberration of piscine manipulation - 
you know ‘fishy-aims-a-foot’, off the hook sorties
with a Natal mob in a Brisbane paddock watched 
by a handful of dedicated trawler men; well no, it 
was a game of rugby that didn’t go quite as we’d 
planned, a disastrous foray agin the great whites 
we wanted to beat - and succeeded in losing 

Okay, can we blame a preoccupied referee who 
seemed keener stating a case for a World Cup 
berth than reasonable refereeing; hell’s teeth, if 
both teams were a bit miffed by obscure rulings 
surely this rates to the home team’s advantage: 
oh well, as it transpired, - not to the Reds clout 

So it wasn’t with a rousing shout, moreso a dull 
roar, that The Sharks collected a prize of Red’s 
ego-diminished scalps in assorted size, with an 
assurance their next game won’t be any easier - 
they are home to the Rebels who’ve won six of 
fourteen - while the Sharks have only five 

© 23 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

30 August 2015

Roast Pumpkin

Roast pumpkin with mangrove jack - you have to 
agree it is different, and that suggests thinking of 
ulterior motive from contingent origins, like soup
its a whole pumpkin - more than a feast - so yes, 
we’d both be party to pumpkin broth which ranks
up there with caviar in our culinary literacy; 200o 
should please these oven-wise taste-buds - and 
the promised savour already intervenes in truth 

So we’re watching two halves brown beautifully - 
there isn’t anything but pumpkin in the pan - tho 
seemingly wasted occasion it also says we’d be 
hard to turn from plans hatched in halcyon age, 
cooking like Grandma & Mother did way before 
an universal advent of the electric range … 

© 22 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

29 August 2015


Well, for a week we at least had something that 
seemed okay - an internet connection via NBN, 
aka - the Government sponsored, geographical 
orphan and under-privileged remote subscriber 
satellite internet scheme, bless ‘em; as it turns 
out we weren’t properly ingenuous - being ‘too 
sophisticated’ by our wi-fi/pc networking, which 
allowed more than one at a time users pc's to 

Be in direct web connection! Gosh - how could 
we be so lewdly blatant - the wee ants must’ve  
‘spied’ outrageously to conclude this - and yes, 
by letter of the decades outdated logic derived 
from redundant technical lore it is just the one 
connect; despite innocence, we’re deprived of 

Access anyway until they agree there isn’t any 
viral culpability in having wi-fi/pc networking, it 
is how things are made these days, but we will 
have to wait at least another two weeks, that’s 
their minimum response time, bless ‘em, even 
when they’re distressingly so far out of date … 

© 7 May 2015, I. D. Carswell

28 August 2015

Home Free

Slowly learning - already too fixated to see what 
may be set in place; wasn’t always this way and 
with a vengeance - or is unremarkable the noun 
we seek, age’s penchant crafting things sleek & 
with nuances too oblique for a first take; are the 
sounds half-heard, or is the word more properly 
half-unheard such that innuendos miss a beat - 
arriving out of pace upon these mistimed feet 

Well, okay - if anything remains of my acuity for 
seeing scams hidden in an ardency of detail I’m 
still your man; so I think it like running in a race, 
one against that competitor visibly holding all th’ 
aces described as currency; if he loses and still 
wins we’ve found an answer - tho’ it means 

We’re probably in too deep to be home free 

© 21 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

27 August 2015

Unilateral Sanctity

We can give the Iranians what they want in an 
attempt to reduce strain on a potential nuclear 
event the World shudders grievously at - & yet 
we’ve seen the effects all too clear; detente or 
what smacks of tainted convenience comes in 
the face of saintly Islamic extremism guised in 
deeds of Jihadi mass-murderers; okay, they’re 
not exactly similar - but imagine if they were 

In face of deranged sanctimony condoned by 
the Islamic faith, we may’ve forestalled a dire 
nuclear impasse; one where our deeds place 
weapons in hands of insane religious leaders 
who claim ‘territorial sovereignty’ in the name 
of an ideological aberration Islam terms ISIS 

So much for free choice or even a freedom to 
choose whether to worship; these beasts see 
infidels in any ‘disagreeing’ to their egregious 
embrace, claiming they are saviours of a new 
humanity, & no room for others’ saintly views 
but sanctity of their unilateral interpretation 

© 16 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

Surviving Rhetoric

So if there’s an easier way, show me; you don’t 
need pontificate on how inept I might be, surely 
that’s a given when the show runs to your beat; 

but it’s a helluva crazy rhythm some would say, 
too far-out to defeat the wherewithal blues you 
claim we unsophisticates suffer as epilepsies 

come to think of it, better to be unaware and all-
but unconscious than seated too comfortably; it 
isn’t a chair locked into the mainstream tempo 

and that’s evident, we’re assured, by sanity we 
recently reviewed; - as a general rule you don’t 
need be nutty, or wholly insane, to appreciate 

the finer points of whose view rainbow-colours 
reality created by such ebullience; we’d be just 
as appreciative were we, too, prudently sane 

but we’re not or we wouldn’t be here, so preach 
your sermon on our inadequacies today & we’ll 
appreciatively applaud by going our own way 

© 15 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

The Other Side

While it feels like a vast distance we’re only 25 minutes 
away - and yes, it is a bit stranger on the other side; for 
starters the word-play ‘subtlety’ takes no prisoners over 
there, or am I imagining 20 years of humourless lingua 
Peachester where the adroitness of terms merged into 
grey anonymity; crikey, here repartee’s a smorgasbord 
all the time - but we’re south of the Glasshouse divide, 
hidden amongst eldritch hills with names like Mt Mee 

It seems pioneer is deeper in this demesne, more than 
the northern-slopes sophisticates, so if rustic takes the 
mickey out of being polite here a ‘richness’ of dialogue 
bakes th’ cake a little bit differently; suffice to say we’d 
scoff at any who took the district ‘Delaney’s Creek’ too 
seriously - especially if you live near Bungo brook 

© 28 February 2015, I. D. Carswell

26 August 2015

So We’re Naive

We’re back on the Greenhouse bandwagon again - 
argument this time being whether there’s economy 
in solar energy; moot point I suppose - bit like their 
original argument of greenhouse effects as causal 
to temperature change; for sure debate creates as 
much heat in feelings, and when arraigned there’s 
enough evidence supporting that its proportionally 
as representative as the profits to be made 

Hang on a mo we say, aren’t we really measuring 
the benefits to mankind - accusations we’re naive 
are deafening; of course there’s an economy they 
hasten to say, through solar energy alone we’ll be 
able to solve all long-term manufacturing industry 
problems through the fabrication of solar panels 

We query, by using solar energy, they cry bugger 
offwhy are you so stupid. The long run’s we’ll all 
benefit, just wait & see; meantime its appropriate 
to keep the debate going because it focusses the 
commercial realities onto fringe benefits we earn 
a living from - supposed glasshouse effect or not 

© 16 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

The Beginning

So you’re officially a Schoolie today - it means 
there’ll be a few more excuses for ‘in-between' 
ideas about what makes a ‘square’ World and 
how Parents describe such things; yet there’s 
a flip side too, what it is not schemes the free-
ways to independence in leading thought; tho’ 
we don’t doubt your autonomy, you’ve already 
navigated that route and discovered yourself 

With your special gifts you will see all of those 
highways to whatever Heaven appeals most - 
and in whichever countenance - while smiling 
sweetly; the easiest decision pertains to your 
choice-freedom - you’re on the way Charlotte 
Lily - this big 6 today is but the beginning 
© 10 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

For Charlotte Lily Carswell on her sixth 
birthday, 23 July 2015

25 August 2015

Who’s Two (For Clementine)?

So now who’s two (but nearly four), 
would that be you, Miss Clementine? 
There’ll be no lazy speculation, just 
the refined sophistication you devise - 
with, for sure, beguiling eyes  

Gentleness in kind with sweet and calm 
and worldly views creates an air which 
illustrates a nascent charm; two years 
displayed or four or even more disarms 
defence against prodigious innocence 

Glory ‘tis to see you grow this way! An
irony contends our view is but a gaucherie 
of whom and what we think we are; 
knowing you as you explains we see 
just who we’d really like to be 
© 25 July 2011, I. D. Carswell

24 August 2015


You wouldn’t rate The Creek an unsafe place to 
play unless your dogginess invades; its then an 
angel fears to tread domain with bandicoots too 
braw to leave to be; so Massey has to chase or 
wear the ridicule implied in Podge’s sneer - & if 
one runs away you hunt it to its lair he says, an 
honour for the only prey we found today - while 
she guffaws at we; why you weren’t even there 

Wasn’t far away he said - y’ went another track, 
like a bandicoot I keep Th’ Creek in view, that’s 
methodology th’ same as mine for you, - so we 
were bound to meet sometime beside th’ deep, 
and there the game became a chase at frantic 
pace from creek across the road to far away 

Last I hear is barking treed half-a-mile off to th’ 
east - sounds like Podge I would agree; but no 
response to whistles bring relief, so I depart th’ 
scene - prepared for certain grief if neither are 
asleep in bed by 6 pm, M’Lady’s back by then 
and explanations need to have a happy end 

I found th’ miscreants by driving Ute on tracks 
you’d misconstrue as paths for hokum views - 
they had come back to where their ‘coot had 
recently vacated keen to start the race again - 
that is until th’ Ute hove into sight; a ride they 
knew - delight expressed in weary eyes 

© 30 July 2015, I. D. Carswell

23 August 2015


Anticipation’s easier to live with than familial 
obligation - so when is it going to happen, or 
has it; already th’ next bottle of wine may be 
a clinical observation you’re past tense, and 
if it is true you’ve solved a mystery that only 
you could have; where in the prolepsis of its 
inescapable reality can you hide awaiting a 
vision you’d’ve irrefutably avoided anyway 

And it’s where we find you, avoiding familial 
obligations you knew were Sunday clothes - 
redefining it as more a convenience of rules 
for engagement; in a sense its so, but cross 
any threshold and you know who’s dressed 
appropriately & exactly how to behave … 

© 4 April 2015, I. D. Carswell