23 April 2014

Bloke Thing

spending the morning cleaning brings 
peace & contentment, initially anyway 

we’re complacently bent on wresting 
order out of pretence from this patio 

then perception wrings calm clean of 
masquerade, we see what our sense 

of disproportionate self-deceit poses - 
it is only dirty if you begin to sponge 

a self-fulfilling augury, nothing’s ironic 
flirting with grunge; you’ll find it, okay! 

so we cease and desist, test the bbq 
and check in the fridge for cold drinks 

no worries there; prawns are done to 
a T, rissoles flattened properly, even 

the skewers are dressed in magic’d 
successions of pork and pineapple -  

sprinkle of Moroccan Ras-el-hanout - 
and sweet potato, reef & beef stick’d 

expressions in zucchini and mango 
which will win an ooh la yum or two 

off anyone not too full to indulge; its 
a standard barbie mate - we had to 

have a go at sprucing up this patio 
‘cause drink in hand its a bloke thing 

to not trip over th’ gumboots, hoses 
or toys lurking with malicious intent … 

© 2 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

22 April 2014

Free Release

Okay, almost a day where we found the ball 
and got on with th’ game; almost enough to 
begin believing congratulations are relevant 
for recherché endeavour you’d designed to 
circumvent bucolic boredom. And then you 
take a second breath - too late is a whisper 
you’ve been searching for amongst events 
cluttering this panoply of fey indulgence 

With more intention on your plate than can 
meet cynical eyes surreptitious survey, with 
more in a cup than lips can sup free of drip, 
whispers release your embryonic acrimony, 
you’re victim of too much it says, give & be 
rid without burdening a naive conscience 
© 25 February 2014, I. D. Carswell 

21 April 2014


You think you’ve a handle on excess - 
and along comes Ms Unimpeachable 
t’ crock it’s hoop; doesn’t take much to 
knock plans askew. So sly burrowing’s 
fruitless and you need a fallback plan; 
one you concede hopefully as a splint 
for her milder rebuke - but she doesn’t 

appear easily fooled - & her assumed 
question, What’re you really doing? is 
unsaid. You glibly protest - I am dicing 
mangoes, with mobs of ‘em left I’ve an 
idea to make beer with some, but then 
your mango chutney’s okay too! 

© 1 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

18 April 2014

Noble Guise

There will be times when you’re not enthralled 
with your own voice - times when the thrill of it 
all blithers into tonelessness; and when you’d 
rather be a towel stirred by the breeze instead 
of a brazened reason for dissent you’re on the 
way to understanding. Yet it isn’t revelation - a 
far cry from the blistering insight, disclosure or 
affright at finding you’re not a public treasure 

Oddly the measure of your worth is seeing the 
other side, being mortified it isn’t what you’d a 
conviction you’d be for sure - and there desire 
palls to a pure but tuneless whimper, which is 
a simple test of whether this strength is better 
attested in the noble guise of humbleness 

© 26 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

15 April 2014

Probably True

Bit o’ reverse revelation I’ll suggest, 
the book had a piece of toilet paper 
folded & inserted where at a guess 
you’d expect a bookmark - ooh lah, 
& not slighting excellent authorship  
Leander Kahney is up with the best 
& subject Jony Ive attests at genius 
proportions in this impressive book 

Ominous, probably, because its too 
hard to put down hence some toilet 
tissue in lieu - and Ive’s behind that 
eminent slew of Apple’s products; it 
shouldn’t surprise he’s Knighted & 
now Sir Jonathan Ive - no less 

No, it wasn’t a slant on sneaking an 
Apple into the loo, but there is a bit 
of irony he’d do it - if his inspiration
suggested the design needed relief 
from an office desk; now I know for 
sure that that is probably quite true
© 18 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

Jony Ive - The Genius Behind Apple’s Greatest Products 

By Leander Kahney

12 April 2014

Rain Check

So its your first day on Planet Earth; we bid you 
you welcome with fondest greetings; it is clearly 
seen you’ve an open pass & thus are privileged 
to choose anything you wish to be 

You’d like to ask how on earth they know this
or would if it made sense, but daren’t, its risky 
assuming anything as you aren’t sure where 
your feet are set, or are actually yours - and

Asking - Where am I, isn’t de rigueur; it seems 
rude to not accept you’re really where they’ve 
stated; perhaps it is better expressed - I do not 
understand how I come to be here - which is - 

Where, please? The nub of it, sure’s yesterday 
you’d a fair idea but, if this is the first day that’s 
clearly in error - so where were you before this 
existence came into magical being 

Nowhere - at least in the sense you weren’t of 
this reality, & therefore couldn’t be anyone but 
whomever you were, whereas here your pass 
permits that to be whatever takes your fancy 

Err, can I have a rain check on this; if its okay 
with you I’m happy as a nobody who’s grist in  
th’ breeze being nothing in particular, and yes 
I’ve done it before, really its easy 
© 17 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

11 April 2014

Safely Aground

And we take a fool’s view of reality, see the 
things we want are pinned to the mast; ok, 
we’ll assert, nothing’s innocuous here and 
change subjects as we play for that laugh. 
It’s a good ‘un, full of risible ire about how 
we’re always Patsy’s to others sinking on 
the same ship - and had we our druthers 
we’d be as likely to croak about ‘em too 

But the joke’s a bit care-worn - there’s an 
air of lethargy suggesting we despair the 
same haggard old platitudes - like where 
were you when the boat foundered - aha, 
pinned to the mast like promises we’d be 
safely aground again real soon 

© 19 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

10 April 2014


Now I can agree with this - tho’ it seems a trite 
perhaps tongue-in-cheek slight at ‘hierarchies’ 
of human behaviour; for non-cognoscenti - let 
me explain - you read it from the bottom up!! 

It obviates, as such, needs for prioritising just 
where you’re at in a scheme of being human - 
if you don’t have WiFi - you do not exist - and 
self-actualisation needs you be alive, trust me 

There’s no need worry about any of the rest if 
you’re not part of the initial scene, no-one will 
know or care, you’ll be insecure, no friends to 
comfort you, no self-esteem, a hollow death  

Let’s take a test as to whether you’re actually 
in existence; so how d’you like your coffee? I 
like it sugarless - hot in a mug with a touch of 
foamed milk - and none of those ‘non-dairy’ 

Substitutes whether lactose free, made from 
nuts or grain - fat skimmed off of a plain, flat 
tasteless desecration - no siree, I am still an 
original cows full-milk weaner on the rise 

To see me drinking a cold coffee while doing 
emails in bed would doubtlessly surprise you - 
made of my sweetheart’s favourite ‘non-dairy’ 
blasphemy, but served with tender panache 

Truly I didn’t notice! With WiFi I’m on another 
plane, higher needs are compensated for - to 
sustain, comfort and bless; & as if you didn’t 

know that - from being similarly wirelessed 
© 10 April 2014, I. D. Carswell

09 April 2014

The Question

Beefing you missed out again begs 
a misleading question - it suggests 
repetitive failure equates to lack of 
favour but inference sez: therefore 
you’re still really in - despite trying 
to change a status quo and to be 
avowed out - yet you see it as the 
opportunity you’ve missed again

But a tongue-in-cheek, in-lieu idea 
of lingua suggests it isn’t ‘in or out’ 
but whether you’re getting relief; i.e.,
for being denied opportunity to set 
goals for being out; you disagree - 
doesn’t that change the meaning of 
missing out - like saying it probably 
has something to do with sex 

That’s ‘making out’ - hardly the same 
unless ‘missing out’  implies you are 
not getting any, serious implications 
we’re trying to clear up here. So are 
you considered in or out? Dunno, I 
guess I missed the question - again

© 8 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

05 April 2014


Wasn’t ‘sinful’ miscalculation - but by 
deeming my MacBook Air diseased I 
crossed a boundary not too far away; 
okay, it was a forgiving situation & no 
blame or censure implied, yet way off 
beam surmising a cause; my opinion, 
incessant rain might’ve had a hand in 
it, but exactly how? Unlike lightening

Excess humidity is mysterious yet no 
burgeoning signature suggesting it’s 
wreaked infamy; so we seek ‘c’est la 
vie’ as a cautionary clause blessed if 
you believe email is its primary seed 
in some sort of eerie system failure 

And there it seems lies an indecency, 
if you want to let denizens of fate out 
& run free, equate email standby the 
same duties as gate keeping; even if 
told to sleep it has to stay half awake 
because thus the logic demands 

But in the event no mystery unfolds - 
the much maligned logic board, tired 
of being told to associate indecently - 
hardly Apple credo we’re assured, & 
worn to a husk - regrettably gave up 
in disgust, and as such had expired 
© 31 March 2014, I. D. Carswell

03 April 2014


You’d call it a bonus of sorts 
or the kind of benign frivolity 
which compensates without 
hidden clauses; yes, there’s 
a message here, it says like 
you avoided something - not 
by shunning what it is, or by 
being utterly innocent 

far from it - you’d dance on 
its grave were it in one, yet 
truth is it’d be yours just as 
easily - if you’ll played foot-
loose and fancy free a mite 
longer mowing. You know 

that dust is an allergen - at 
best you’re just versed in its 
worst moods but still tilt the 
windmill - what kind of brain 
does that; ah, one affected 
by allergen you’ll glibly say 

© 18 March 2014, I. D. Carswell

02 April 2014

With Sparkles

Relieved an ‘occupation’, though 
the military sense of it faded past 
the post, no odium of an imposed 
order to reflect upon, just an idea 
of space echoing silently; with no 
need to raise waves pressing her 
case for our inclusion she simply 
created new rooms for us too 

They were heady days; her three 
year old view of what is had room   
for what wasn’t, didn’t seek to be 
unique - or claim private space or 
avoid debate on responsibility - it 
amazed and entertained 

Games were invented and rules 
tossed away in an air of intrigue 
masquerading as delinquency - 
norms for elderly consideration 
she claimed, tactfully addressed 
as problems we all endure  

Her parting words were you can't 
make fun of me or my friends, ok 
and I’ll let you keep your painted 
toenails one more week - purple 
with sparkles wasn’t my idea but 
it eased a droll sense of levity 

© 28 January 2014, I. D. Carswell

01 April 2014

Hockey’s Plague

This poem for today was ‘supposed’ to be 
on the May budget and whether Treasurer 
Joe Hockey’s first in-office attempt proves 
he’s got a handle on the actual scene; we 
read scuttlebutt suggesting dire stuff’ll be 
proposed despite encouraging change in 
new economic indices. Labor’s to blame 
for everything of course - without debate 

But there’s a wind in the air of late which 
says even blustering Joe misses his cue; 
budgets are just bubonic plague - spread 
by obliging fleas but far too slowly, so we 
look at new evidence suggesting a faster 
way will be by pneumonic means - and it 

entails being carried in air we breathe. I 
see from reading Black Plague forensic 
evidence it’s the best route to immediate 
effect, well much faster than the wait for 
discriminating fleas deciding who’d be a 
tastier bite for their infection next 

But that’s a History lesson which took a 
while to be revealed. Fleas do not bear 
blame for the plague spreading, coughs, 
splutters & spit carried it more effectively;  
thus Joe is already equipped to spread 
his disease - starting April Fool’s day 

© 31 March 2014, I. D. Carswell

25 March 2014

Waning Moon

it wasn’t the young Dylan’s mad desire 
for carolling the waning moon; already 
too passé this grandiloquence loosely 
punctuates gestures: all is squeamish 
cigarette-impaired phrases dressed on  
a stage of empty destiny, ‘no-one sees 
the light here’ the lead player sighed - 
‘even I am drained of such emotion’ 

where were we before the time came, 
when clashes of energy ran a flaring 
furnace, when those grenades hit as 
unforgettable phrases exploding into 
vogue kaleidoscopes with meaning 
all worn so very comfortably 

© 10 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

19 March 2014

A Day In Lieu

I successfully strayed from any endeavour 
demanding expenditure of energy - sure, I 
did a wee bit o’ thinking but planning to be 
footloose & fancy free comes naturally - & 
aficionados with advanced abilities who’re 
meticulous in repudiation (- thing I lauded 
back in fulfilling other’s plans) won’t try to 
meet their own obsequious mensurations 

the plan’s agreed too complex these days 
for formal rapport so we don’t cry wolf - or 
comment on who’s in the chair for comfort 
or realisation of more than just a mundane 
view of idiotic hot balloon’s consummating 

machinations of mensurable levity
© 4 february 2014, I. D. Carswell

17 March 2014

Bolognese Ragù

And with the solemn decree of the 
Accademia Italiana della Cucina, I 
make Bolognese Ragù their way - 

Different from spaghetti we ate as 
kids (that came in tins) but it met a 
gustatory need quite unforgettably 

And tho’ no Italiano I’m partial to a 
vast array of cuisine - so we’re into 
the bilingualism and having a time 

Dicing pancetta with a mezzaluna 
trying not to kill fingers - same for 
the vegetables - all easy-peasy 

The Colonial way had tomatoes to 
burn but here we just use a sauce 
& broth laced - suffice to say with 

dry red wine - not frizzante, and a 
cup of milk; when two hours into a 
simmer we’ll add panna di cottura 

That’ll be at the very end - after the 
Rugby & when we’re ready to eat - 
it going to be a fabulous Friday

© 28 February 2014, I. D. Carswell

15 March 2014


We found after-shower routines ridiculing 
what looked good ideas by failing a turing 
test; a cotton bud in hand edging towards 
the armpit grandly is a guess at this state 
of play - almost convinced in the moment 
you’d bested a way after towelling to now 
do armpits & ears simultaneously & yet it 
bewildered as to exactly how 

Shaking the head dismisses it as a ‘failed 
again’ scene; too many things going on is 
the explication. Plus you hadn’t dipped its 
tip into anti-perspirant & it wouldn’t do the 
job anyhow. Now there’s a despairing win 
for a pair of nearly perlite-refreshed ears* 
© 15 March 2014, I. D. Carswell

* perlite is used in some antiperspirants