26 November 2014

Wrapped In Veneer

took it an 
indirect expression 
of where we’re at; 

knowing dimension 
and artefact usually keeps 
the pace - but, here, we’re 
so naive what 

saves us 
is an ‘in-spirit’ of 
the fathomably real 

don’t need 
create assemblages 
of artifice to put these 
wares on display 

it is an imposing 
edifice - too sheer 
to take liberties, 
but plain as day 

and despite 
those restraints we’re 
wrapped in its 

© 12 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

25 November 2014

Seeing The Game Live

You could suggest it was an an awesome outcome 
- although getting there grievously tested whatever 
patience remained; and sure - our dollars changed 
hands without ceremony - well before we ever saw 
this sought-after sports channel appear - but there 
it is, on-air, & we’re breathing easier. So applause 
for Setanta Sports; in getting me link their apps to 
Foxtel TV, we’ll see Poms v The All Blacks live 

That this game wasn’t accessible anywhere else’s 
a travesty, sports programming replays were bare; 
it was like saying no-one will see this game - ever, 
which gravidly sez it reeks of being a ploy - selling 
Setanta’s access, and suspicious as it may be, I’d 
say we’re long past sharing Cheshire cat grins 

We’ll watch live Sunday am - in an atmosphere of 
deconstructed ‘Twickenham’ incredulousness too 
obvious to dismiss or sleep and see the recorded 
footage at our convenience without having to wait 
for tart news the Poms blew the coup way out of 
proportion to this, their trivially livid farce … 

© 6 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

24 November 2014

Victim By Proxy

We’re to believe the campaign is over and 
adversaries rest; a bemused quiet ensues 
as no truce bears witness or claims verity, 
loose cannons ply malice, glaring aloof in 
bruising air’s raw uneasiness - none have 
had to run their banner yet, chancing fate, 
but we’ve missed inscrutable pages of the 
tract that was to stabilise who we were 

I cautiously breathe, I am not your enemy
there’s nothing at stake and little to gain in 
assertively claiming victimisation by proxy 
while being all too wittingly misinterpreted, 
the same cloak swathes us; we’ve made 
go-betweens hostile to their own enmity 

© 3 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

23 November 2014

Engaging Solo View

Why in-limbo living these last few weeks 
means stress lurks uneasy, moreso in a 
cave’s confinement, though if sensing it 
relieves - brave utterance admitting this,
we still only see all the ‘fait accompli’ as 
alignments lacking ‘civilised’ subtlety. In 
the event nothing has changed, yet the 
scant psychology claimed is feyly awry 

So we grant it a base premise why we 
can’t change make of this true reaction 
to dissociate feelings we’re measuring; 
no-longer a give-n-take-community-fête, 
part of the break-out came from altered 
pleasure’s intent sensed on awakening 

There’s other reality too, old ideas used 
as commodities now fly apart an instant 
after in combo-inured thinking, the best 
part’s then contained in remains usually 
referred to as the reasons why its worth 
a testing effort to try and understand 

But we’re not in the square; we seek an 
out to anywhere rules aren’t made of a 
plastic substance painted in dream-like 
surrogacy - there’s assured room for it, 
if the delusion dizzies you enough; the 
bluff is insured an engaging solo view …  

© 10 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

22 November 2014

The Ad Game

It’s ads are getting further away 
from anything resembling reality; 
that isn’t to say they’re not cool - 
they’re classic attention-nabbing 
shards of inanity, compelling for 
that fault-free instant of connect, 
then there’s the lair of doubt, an 
usury of innuendo to negotiate 

And you’re there - edged at the 
threshold - enlightenment’s not 
far away, and nor’s the next ad 
rearing on this set’s back; its in 
instant play in a three seconds 
elapsed deregulated normality 

Which is all you get between a 
flicker of brilliant understanding 
and bewilderment - setting you 
up for a replay between this ad 
and the next quarter - which is 
right after our inter-ad break 

© 4 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

21 November 2014


While one can’t take it for granted there’s that 
wee glimmer of hope set as a wry chance we 
see things the same way - at least its the fruit 
of a common belief spared those ‘hard times’ 
agendas of glory boys and thieves; the wimp- 
set sees us stranded in this faith with nature - 
we’re consequential victims they say, natural 
retrogression, degeneration on the hoof

But I know we’re fireproofed to such claims - 
their vision is Eden retrofitted with their view 
screwed into rafters as true regardless of its 
real cost; our’s allows nature the final words 
whether we fit into schemes larger than our 
imagination but sanctioned by its dreams 

So yes - there’s possibility he’s found what 
he seeks, an avocado orchard with enough 
healthy trees to make a difference, with an 
opportunity to keep his faith intact similarly 
to the way he has always; and for me, it is 
the reward of seeing my ‘baby’ kept safe 

© 8 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

20 November 2014

Nanas Philosophy

Expressing feelings that suggest you’ve been the 
victim of a vast conspiracy would seem too much 
like nannying; imagine her reaction, all shades of 
grey were black and white in her view - and if her 
wee darling was upset, the World would rue such 
grossly animistic and self-centred behaviour; hah 
she’d interject, think you can get away with being 
such peasants - well, you’d better think again 

In the space of a momentously indulgent second 
or two she sorted the wheat from the chaff - cast 
out the lurking riffraff and demons - whether they 
were merely innocents whatever, or bystanders, 
mattered not a mote, and rewrote the ‘rule book’ 
whose purpose was her little angel’s wellbeing 

Well you could say, thinking it through like that’s 
a relief, Nana played a straight bat when it came 
to whose feelings mattered - yet ideas someone 
could set it up deliberately, which was still within 
the realms of probability, niggled; and yet again, 
Nana’s philosophy made that too, all too plain 

© 31 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

19 November 2014

Rugby Buffet

discovering who’s live-broadcasting 
a rugby test between England & NZ 
wasn't intrigue-easy, it was wrapped 
in innuendo, fraught, conspiracy-like, 
by mired deviousness; only ‘deviant’ 
cognoscenti thought through a lame 
mask of Setanta’s claimed exclusivity

but watch we did, amazed by its braw 
analogy differentiating what we view in 
a southern hemisphere by that English 
afternoon tea choral of swinging low in 
sweet chariots as the Haka ensues; 
not that it mattered too much anyway 

the Welsh referee confused everyone 
with interim rulings he made up on the 
spot or vacillated technically and got a 
TMO’s arbitration, no-one quite sure if 
it was just him being himself - affected 
by his weird sense of self importance

but this game was non-stop both on & 
off the pitch which made seeing it live 
the right thing to do - even if Sundays 
are a day of rest it was a sterling test 
of play viewing stamina in the Spring 
Tour extravaganza’s rugby buffet 

© 11 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

18 November 2014

Alva Indie

The beauty of being you in an unstained  
age of innocence is your advantage - as 
a light you see sure, it will be brighter for 
whom you are; whereas we are pledged 
to be if not infatuated then enchanted in 
pleasure of your company - there is this 
grandiloquence of opportunity, a maybe 
that’s blessed by beguilement of you 

This flower of purity shines through in a  
mercurial smile sure & true - a verity of 
whom you are; and we’ll be in fairy-tale 
sense of eternity condensed in instants 
by your presence - and indeed, that’s a 
gift for the gods to be pleased 
© 18 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

17 November 2014

Free Drinks

Isn’t a mood I’ll be famous for - too damn 
introspective to breed pithy puns but hey, 
its mine and a bonus any-which-way you 
like to think of it; so there we are, a 3 pm 
G&T like natural relief from a pun paucity 
suggests a slice of lemon might cake-ice 
what proves otherwise unsustainable - & 
we’ll survive on a whim with fable prayer 

And I’ll prey easily, believe me, kneeling 
in spite of knees contrition aiming to pay 
off debt labelled ebullient ‘chances’ once 
leant to a one & only meant to say - see 
here, that’s th’ way to San Hosea where 
the drinks aren’t usually this free 

© 3 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

15 November 2014

Auction Day

It is supposedly the last day of a goat’s horn- 
growing inquisition, of barbed flechettes with 
quirked conscience despair - an atmosphere 
of incredulity pervading where reason slides 
sideways - there’s no certainty aired why an 
on-going sense of tooth-bared acrimony still 
vends worst-case obduracy, or expectations 
adjudged denouement could ever be fair 

But we are still intact and agreed to see it in 
the best possible light, in-battle hasn’t been 
a fight for commonwealth & justice - there’s 
no noble aim in an egocentric murkiness of 
primacy’s clime & yet the end justifies what 
freedom from uncertainty tragically means 

© 1 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

14 November 2014

Any Mismatch

if an immaculate achievement is the 
same as avoiding engagement then 
I succeeded - it took ages to create 
discrete separation between ‘aim’ & 
ends paying compensation; in case 
you missed the point that means an 
erudite excuse earns more points in 
any mismatch with failure secure 

so I rewrote the lazy handbook - be 
assured it takes as much expended 
energy as being the # 1 seed; and I 
never graced that space - except in 
the race to be last - where even the 
competition agreed I’d already won 

© 5 November 2014, I. D. Carswell

13 November 2014

A Rational Decease

And if you could credibly suggest that 
what distressed me has its roots in an 
awesome ‘yellow’ papaya half-pecked 
to pieces, I’d rest innocently; but in an 
even more perplexing digression, this
was on the cards days ago, you were 
aware birds played footloose & fancy 
free with ripening fruit yet left it alone

There’s no sheltering in the lee of too 
many distractions, it has no zones of 
solicitude protecting you - although a 
few birds will applaud your gratuitous  
largesse; no, a papaya’s demise was 
not key to assuaging this impasse 

So we seek relief through an ordinary 
& common belief it was ‘meant’ to be; 
birds like ripe papaya as much as we 
hanker for a taste but they suffer less 
indignity testing to see at which stage 
of afore-said ripeness is each piece 

And that explains a rational decease 

© 30 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

12 November 2014

Another View

If it is a game it never ends - no sense of time 
or space contends, no structured plays; we’ve 
run its length a thousands ways, amending all 
our strategies with lèse majesté, & praying for 
an interval that never came, or change of end 
to rest our weariness; no breaks to breathe in 
air afresh in willing agonies away, no referees 
to arbitrate a peace, or make us keep it thus 

And yet, it feels the stress that dispossessed 
us also blessed us with another view too fair 
to leave unheralded; - thus pleasing answers 
rest where heads and hearts attend and see 
a mordant sense of anomie yet pass the test 
entrapment wrests and keep it safe alee 

©22 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

11 November 2014

Beyond The Pale

The good Ol’ Gaslight Company is staunch and 
true to self-congratulatory mantras imbued with 
their version of reality; now electricity vendors - 
and as far as one could be from gas they’ll pee 
their way through a morass of bureaucratic evil 
which they’ll admit arose out of stale flour filled 
with weevils pretending to be Public Servants 
unable to recognise their own errors 

We’re meant to see that as ‘fee’ collectors their 
proposed ‘good intent’ depends on matters they 
haven’t a bees-knees about; meter readers are 
employees of the company generating power - 
outside their clique, meaning queries are a way 
to efficiently buck-pass and maintain pretence 

As long as cash changes hands effectively who 
cares if a meter reader misreads - except me of 
course, and I’ve the temerity to ask what is this 
aberration of a meter running backwards - as if 
it explains the error colloquially - yet neither of 
‘em sense that’s already beyond the pale 

© 16 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

10 November 2014


where lubricity 
fails - in each and every sense 
you will itch madly 

itching isn’t bad 
in itself but won’t help make 
discomfort’s amend 

the sadly missing 
beat is why the deed ends in 
such piecemeal scratching 

an irony in 
its perverted pretension 
laughs at you always 

so we keep greasing 
to salve the slave of reason’s 
courtly dignity 

© 24 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

09 November 2014

A Tanka Thing

it is a Tanka thing where 
lines blend into hues of words 
blessed by images 
smoothed free of their 
unstressed idiosyncrasy 

© 23 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

08 November 2014

Room To Learn

There you go - always room to learn a little more 
although we’ve managed rather well to date - by 
clicking ‘tips’ atop the page we’ve seen a reason 
that suggests our progress is, at least, bemused 
yet quite relaxed because we’ve never used this 
system to its full (and never will may I digress); I 
write my best when technicalities of options that 
I never use cannot reduce my choices to a few 

Meagre as it is I see the flow agrees with me, or 
do I walk in shoes without design because there 
is a seemly blindness just as equal to what isn’t 
where I couldn't see, is this my common enemy; 
my fear’s a silenced lack of words benighted by 
dissent unheard in wordless obloquy 

© 21 March 2014, I. D. Carswell

07 November 2014

Lunacy Prevails

Bankstown, Sydney 17-year-old, Abdullah Elmir, on 
air naming himself ‘Abu Khaled’ and threatening the  
western countries with war; ISIL aims to fly the black 
flag over Buckingham Palace, Canberra & the White 
House he says - attesting that the Prime Minister of 
Australian is one upon whom ISIL’s ire’s specifically 
addressed; oh woe’s me, I hear Tony Abbott despair, 
shaken in his shoes being singled out by a militant 

clone of Jihadist vacancy as equally deranged as an 
emir disreputably funding them; I have to bring home 
our Super Hornets or they will be popping over to put 
something bad in my cuppa tea. Yet maybe he’ll say 
something wiser to our raving Australian - like here’s 
the G.O. son - deranged or merely under the spell of 

monstrous delusions, in revealing your identity you’re 
somewhat compromised now - tho’ Islam’s prevailing 
sanity regrets need for sanitising its so-called ‘fringe’ 
of lunacy, history says this; of the Q’uranic teachings 
accepted universally by its religion’s silent majorities 
it won’t quail delivering rabid heads of them pursuing 

ends of their own bent; so young man - far best you 
run, but not here, before that blade swings free … 

© 22 October 2014, I. D. Carswell

06 November 2014


You can take a dim view of it - with no 
interest expressed in anything you’ve 
done your best to present in balanced 
and neutral perspective, there’s these 
nagging presentiments you’ve failed
but to begin with expectations weren’t 
too clear; like - experiential you’d say, 
a test of your character’s nobility 

Placing your beliefs in the purview of 
public you’ve never met is an ordeal - 
one where you skilfully play helpless 
roles with éclat yet too far away from 
the gist of any rational appreciation - 
or within their ability to comprehend 

You recreate eco-ideal transcendent 
dream-places no-one in scheming to 
take over your world could live in, or 
you for that matter; neither veil, habit 
nor burqa can equate to peace in our 
time when even their decency fails 

© 26 October 2014, I. D. Carswell