Photo by Vlatka Martinek
All is connected in this land down under
From calm blue skies to deafening thunder
Indigenous people saw in the beginning
And Anglo people in the pending
Take a look at the barren flood plains
Gums trees fall in unwanted shame
Salt surfaces on once fertile lands
Fish stocks suffocate in swarming sands
Lakes have turned to dried up puddles
Why on earth would you still muddle?
Contaminated water has become the norm
Environmental disaster in the highest form
Her once magnificent mouth, full of gleaming teeth
Decays toothless and bleeding; impossible to bequeath
Whose fault though, who is to blame?
Initially brainwashed by a holy name
Technology and greed, all the same
Is there a chance not to repeat again?
And go back to the beginning
When all joy was in giving
The Murray’s current flowed unabated to the sea
Seasons bossed the waves, instinct was common sense
Why, oh, why, wasn’t it let to be?
And the ending would be just hence
Andrew Mansell, July 2008
Photo by Redoublebrick
It was three weeks ago now but I remember every detail. We had been driving for about half an hour when we finally passed Frankston, the last bastion of Melbourne’s suburban south. The family conversation in the car had lulled and was gently overtaken by sleep provoking music drifting from the only useful component a car has, the radio. Three down, one to go, no not me, I was the chosen one, chosen to guide my family safely to Rosebud as they all slept. Half an hour to go I calculated as we passed some gently reassuring road signs ‘Stay Awake, Stay Alive’ and ‘Beware Drowsy Drivers Die’.
Human nature is like a disappearing full moon at midnight and like grey clouds covering the sun at midday.
Andrew Mansell June 2006
Life is like music,
It appears so simple on the surface,
Seven notes, Seven days,
But how they can be arranged,
Manipulated and Interpretated,
In an infinate amount of ways.
Andrew Mansell June 2007
There’s no place for any one in this rat race
Please, thank you, put a smile on your face
Repress your soul without any trace
Don’t be yourself, what a disgrace
Struggle every day to make ends meet
Keep the line going, don’t miss a beat
For your rights are down another street
Along with self respect and your own two feet
Better be here, better be there on time
Or you’ll be walking a fine fire line
Give them your life in your prime
And they’ll retire you before you decline
Be creative there as much as you can
For someone else with your reward will have ran
I beg you to change, there is no strict plan
Just be your true self, every woman, every man.
Andrew Mansell 22/7/2006