In The First Elective Ministry
In the neolithic age of our Australia, long ago,
There dwelt a wise old chieftain, as you probably don't know;
His royal tastes and habits I won't venture to describe,
But his plain horse-sense was noted and applauded by his tribe.
Now, this chief was not a despot, as you will, perhaps, conclude;
For, though debate was noisy and procedure somwhat crude,
There did exist a Parliament, elected in due form,
With a Premier and Ministry - which made things pretty warm.
For the style of Party Government, in vogue about that time,
Was inclined to lead to discord - not to mention down-right crime.
For boomerangs and waddies were used freely in debate;
And, as a rule, ex-Ministers were spoken of as 'late.'
For the salaries of Ministers were not to be despised;
And 'emoluments of office ' were, indeed, most highly prized.
The Premier got five 'possums and ten fat grubs a day,
While a snake and three gohannas were his colleagues' daily pay.
Then other perks and privileges happened such aa these;
The Minister controlling Rain and State Corroborees
Got all his ochre on the nod - in other words, his clothes.
So portfolios were coveted, as you may well suppose.
In consequence, the whole procedure of the House was 'fight.'
No Ministry created in the morning saw the night.
And all the posts were sinecures the shorthand writers filled;
For the press-reports read briefly: 'Sixteen wounded; seven killed.'
Now, the practical King Billy could not fail to recognise
That this bad old Party system was not either right or wise.
Public works were at a standstill, and the tribe was losing wealth.
Not to mention that the House's sittings menaced public health.
The Department of Smoke-Signalling was in a shocking state;
And Defence had been forgotten in the noise of the debate.
The Flint and Sandstone Bonus Bill was shelved time and again;
And the tribe was getting very short of able-bodied men.
The commoon-sensed old chief sat down and pondered hard and long;
And thought him out a simple scheme to right this crying wrong.
Then he dissolved the Parliament and called his tribe around,
And told his plan; and all agreed his arguments were sound.
'But then,' they said, 'it's most unconstitutional, you know.
Besides, we have no precedent; therefore you have no show.'
But Bill dispensed with precedent and substituted sense -
Whereat the anger of the tribal Tories was immense.
'The nation's welfare,' said the chief, 'is what I have in mind;
And this bad old Party Government must all be left behind.
Henceforth I set my Parliament a task it may not shirk,
And members will, please, understand that fighting isn't work.
'We'll have Elective Ministries, and they shall rule unharmed
For forty moons; and members must attend the House unarmed.
Next election you may club them, should their actions prove unwise;
And for the second term the victors may enjoy the prize.'
They called it 'socialistic'; but King Billy had his way.
For forty moons each Minister enjoye dhis place and pay.
Since only once within that time the chance of office came,
The members took to making laws, and ceased to 'play the game.'
Peace and prosperity henceforth smiled on the chieftain's reign;
And, ere he died, he said, 'Behold, I have not ruled in vain.
Down through the future ages shall my Great reform descend.
Australia shall bless my Simple Notion till the end.'
But, if you study recent history, you'll note King Bill
Was most forlonly out of it; for they are at it still.
The daily fight for fatted grubs excites the same old gang;
And debate is mainly waddy, and division boomerang.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Great God Guff
There was once a Simple People - (you, of course, will understand
This is just a little fable of a non-existent land)
There was once a Simple People, and they had a Simple King,
And his name - well, SMITH the First will do as well as anything
And they lived upon an island by a pleasant southern sea,
Which they boastfully referred to as the 'Country of the Free.'
This King SMITH was quite a model. He was kind and he was wise.
But, alas! a higher sovereign he was forced to recognise.
As in ev'ry age and nation, since the tale of man was known,
Superstition here existed as the power behind the throne.
It was vague and unsubstantial but its sway was plain enough,
And 'twas known upon the island, simply, as the Great God GUFF.
They made sacrifices to it, treasure, corn and slaughtered beasts,
Good King SMITH cringed to the idol where upon his throne he sat;
And the People feared it greatly; and the priests grew very fat.
Now, the welfare of the priestcraft did not always coincide
With the welfare of the People, hence the wily priests relied
On the hoary superstition that had stood the test of years;
Thus they led both king and people by their rather ass-like ears;
Crying: 'GUFF was ever with us! GUFF the Great must be obeyed!
GUFF the god must be consulted ere a single law be made!'
And the very simple People with their very simple King
Bowed their heads and said, 'So be it. GUFF be served in ev'rything.'
So the nation muddled somehow on its island by the sea -
Simple superstitious people in their 'Country of the Free.'
And whene'er they yearned for Progress, as things drifted to the worst,
SMITH replied, 'Have patience, people. GUFF must be consulted first.
Other lands and other nations may progress without his aid;
But upon our native island never rule or law is made
Till his priests have pondered o'er it, seeking to divine his will.
So it was with our forefathers, so with us it must be still.'
Came a time when folk grew restive, murmurming amongst themselves,
While the nation's schemes and projects lay neglected on the shelves.
Then arose amid the people one of singular renown -
Since his name the eld refuses, let us call him, simply, BROWN.
BROWN was something of a student, strong on things like common-sense;
He was plain and blunt and forceful; and he hated smug pretence.
And before the priests and people, in a manner rude and gruff,
He arose and put this question, briefly: 'Who and what is GUFF?'
Loud the People shrieked in terror; and the High-Priest threw a fit;
And the king rose from his dias as his eye with anger lit.
'He blasphemes!' declared the monarch. 'Sieze the sacrilegious brute!
Great God GUFF may not be questioned! He is mighty! absolute!'
But BROWN stood his ground and answered, 'Oh, I'm sick of all that stuff!
Give me one clear definition: What's the bloomon' use of GUFF?
He's a silly superstition! and I'll prove to you, King SMITH,
If you'll give me just five minutes, that your idol is a myth.'
Well, to bring a simple story to a sudden, simple end,
BROWN beat down all opposition, and affairs began to mend.
Good King SMITH, with seemly wisdom, on his idol turned his back;
And, without much fuss, the People simply gave old GUFF the sack.
And the priests? Well, some took service with the king, and so reformed;
Some adopted Christian Science; some in vain still raved and stormed;
Others strove to mend their fortunes with an Independent Kirk;
Some became mere weather prophets; some - a paltry few - got work.
So they thrived, the simple People, on their island by the sea;
And their schemes and projects prospered, for the land, at last, was free.
SMITH the First, emancipated, o'er a happy country ruled.
And he smiled when he reflected how the nation had been fooled;
How the simple King and People, by a superstition cursed.
Ever cried in foolish terror: 'GUFF must be consulted first!'
And the last words of that monarch long were treasured in the land . . .
But, of course, it's all a fable, as you'll clearly uderstand.
Yet - there lives a simple People on an island by the sea,
And a simple Monarch rules them called the King DEMOCRACY.
Rather, does he seek to rule them, but his will is warped and bent
By a childish superstition known as 'Party Government.'
And the idol has its priestcraft that pretends to lead the race;
Though they call them 'Politicians' in this later year of grace.
And whene'er the folk grow restive, as things drift from worse to worst,
Cry the priests, 'Behold the Party! It must be considered first!'
And the simple, simple People bend their heads and murmur, 'Yes,
We respect the claims of Party . . . But who is to mend this Mess!
Schemes go wrong and projects languish, and the Big Things of the State
Lie neglected while this Party bids us wait and ever wait!'
Oh, for some plain, forceful person with a plain, drab name like BROWN,
And a wholesome hate for humbug, and a stern, determined frown,
To arouse the simple People and their king, DEMOCRACY,
Cringing to their fool-god Party on their island by the sea!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are We Falling Short?
A provincial premier should be appointed prime minister each year,
Because we don't vote for our prime minister by name right here,
We vote for someone in his party and sometimes we're not sure,
Because the party system can sometimes be very obscure.
Or in order to elect a prime minister, we should see his name,
On a special ballot because this is a serious game,
And the religion-like party system should be rearranged,
For individuals - not parties - and not considered strange.
I realize of course that this idea will be shot down,
Appointed high aristocrats want to keep their dressing gowns,
Proportional representation and binding referendums please,
Because the way things are now; it's the parties they appease.
They say that the Senate is a place of sober second thought,
Where unknown establishment appointees are never distraught,
Did I mention we need an elected Senate and High Court?
Because under our present system we seem to fall short.
poem by James Bredin
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In Answer To The Powers That Be
If we apply
the question
What are the
'implications of media,
in this epoch of time'
to Elizabethan England,
the age of Shakespeare;
to next King James the first,
you will agree,
a significant
period in history,
what would this phrase mean?
The answer
to put it simply,
to be succinct,
to put it in a nut shell,
is the effect upon
the public of the time;
of the stage of course
and the printing press.
This could have been put in
one simple declarative sentence
but where is the art in that?
The stage and the plays
especially of Shakespeare
are thrilling live performance
and exceptionally influential
as an early form of mass media.
In the play King Lear for example,
the king must be either very wise;
like King James I; or very stupid, so
it cannot possibly be, King James I.
The first historically documented
performance of the play; took place
on December 26,1606; before King
James I; Shakespeare embeds conceit.
Cunningly Shakespeare embeds support
and opposition; first outlining cleverly
King James Stuart's ideas of absolutist
Monarchy; belief in divine right to rule.
Stuart's style of legitimizing his reign is
wisely promoted; secret opposition made
through a masked linking of King Stuart’s
character to Lear; hidden behind ill health.
Self imposed censorship of art and press is
constantly in vogue due to issues of legalize;
the ramifications of offending ruling power;
embodied in government or rule as dictated.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Politics In Art Shakespearean Style
In the play King Lear for example,
the king must be either very wise,
like King James I, or very stupid, so
it cannot possibly be, King James I.
View first historically documented
performance of this play, took place
on December 26,1606, before King
James I, Shakespeare embeds conceit.
Cunningly Shakespeare embeds support
shades opposition, first outlining cleverly
King James Stuart's, ideas, of absolutist
Monarchy, belief in divine right to rule.
Stuart's style of legitimizing his reign is
wisely promoted; secret opposition made
through a masked linking of King Stuart’s
character to Lear hidden behind ill health.
Self imposed censorship of art and press is
constantly in vogue due to issues of legalize
and dire ramifications of offending power
embodied in government or rule as dictated.
Oh Dear King Lear absolute rule fails ignores
needs of individuals nation is ripe system axed.
When government is not by the people for real
benefit of her people exploitation ensures hexed.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Individuals have little opportunity to get elected to Parliament under the label of the government party... unless they are in good standing with the Prime Minister and pledged to be cooperative.
quote by Stockwell Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Honest Politician
There was a man, whose reputation in the land was strong;
In winter and in summer, honest as the day was long.
So all his friends advised him that before his time was spent
He'd have to run for office and go into Parliament.
On honesty and openness this fellow then campaigned;
From telling lies or twisting truths he without fail refrained.
He told the people what he thought they all wanted to hear;
He'd tell his honest policies to all who'd lend an ear.
He said were he in government, then things would have to change;
He'd made a careful study and the laws he'd rearrange;
He'd have to cut some salaries and trim the public spend;
And half the public servants to the dole queue he would send.
He said that we relied too much on borrowings from banks
And we would be in trouble when the housing market tanks.
We'd all have to work harder, for we reap but what we sow,
And all restrictive legislation, out the door he'd throw.
And lots of other policies he said he'd put in place;
The nation would be better off - we'd be back in the race;
Give help to honest industry - he wouldn't sell the farm;
He'd boost the military so we'd all be safe from harm.
The people listened to him and his honesty admired;
They said his goals were admirable and what they too desired,
But they had all grown used to scams, pork barreling and lies;
Some wondered if this honesty was really very wise.
Opponents, unfamiliar with this new found idea - truth,
Just winked and nodded - said they'd see him at the voting booth.
He's still around, he hasn't changed, by all he's still respected;
He got few votes, we needn't fear, he didn't get elected.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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In a tribal organization, even in time of peace, service to tribe or state predominates over all self seeking; in war, service for the tribe or state becomes supreme, and personal liberty is suspended.
quote by Arthur Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Victorious Rising Sun!
The Rising Sun has made a glorious sweep!
Most voters’ hearts are jubilant again;
The state of Tamilnad is poised to leap!
The Sun is shining well this May with rain!
The eighth of May was ill-omen to some;
The year too totals digit-wise to eight!
The mathemagicians couldn’t solve the sum
That power is with people- was proved right!
The plight of poor fellow-men will improve;
A veteran Chief Minister resumes work;
He’ll rule the land of Tamils with great love!
The ones who lost could truly go berserk!
The Rising Sun will shine with splendor long!
All Tamils hearts echo this joyful song!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-11-2006
Dedicated lovingly to the octogenarian,
Fifth time Chief Minister, Thiru. Dr. M.Karunanidhi
poem by John Celes
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The Holy Constitution
Read ye here the song as sung
By a chief named, briefly, Ung.
In the days when arguments were manly axes:
'O my people, this my Law
Is without defect or flaw,
And it governs ways and means and rates and taxes.
To amend it were unwise;
And if any tribesman tries,
He will meet with swift unerring retribution.
'Tis omnipotent, infallible, as all may recognise;
In short, it is out Noble Constitution.'
When this Neolithic man
Gave the world his early plan
Of tribal laws to bind his nascent nation,
He opined, with fine conceit,
That his System was complete,
And the acme of all human legislation.
'For all time this Law shall stand!'
He decreed with manner grand
And a splendid disregard for evolution;
And the Tory crowd that followed, bore this tenet in its hand:
'You must never touch the Sacred Constitution.'
So the Party then in power,
To improve the shining hour,
Contracted quite a pleasing little habit:
Safely guarded in their 'right,'
If they fancied aught in sight,
Being 'constitutionally safe,' they'd grab it.
And they told the rank and file,
With a patronising smile,
When the People talked of 'wrongs' and 'persecution,'
'It is very, very sad, and, no doubt, your case is bad;
But we cannot tamper with the Constitution.'
But meat-winners of the day
(Rabid Socialists were they)
By slow degrees arrived at this conclusion:
That the hide-bound Tory joss
Totalled mainly bluff and dross,
And its 'sacredness' was wholly an illusion.
Then with yells and growlings vile,
In their quaint primeval style
They planned a prehistoric revolution;
And with bits of tertiary rock they wrecked the Torries' smile
And, incidentally, the Constitution.
All this happened, as you know,
Quite a long, long time ago;
And the world has since known Greece and Rome and Sparta,
Medes and Persians and such fools
Who were bound by cast-iron rules
Which reminds us of Old England's Magna Charta.
There's no doubt when England pressed
Hard to have her wrongs redressed,
And 'persuaded' John to sign the resolution,
That hard-shell old Tory King thought it quite a shocking thing
To meddle with the Holy constitution.
So on, ever since King John,
As the world moves surely on,
And the People cry for reformation drastic,
You can hear right down the line
E'er the same old Tory whine
Protesting, 'It is most iconoclastic!'
'Tis the same old Tory way,
Same old 'everlasting nay.'
'Tis the same reactionary elocution.
But, who stood for 'Progress' yesterday is 'Retrograde' today;
And we've got to meddle with the Constitution.
While the Fatman waxes fat,
He's content to stop at that;
He will bless the Constitution and defend it;
But whene'er it needs repair.
'Tis the man who works his share
That uprises, patriotic, to amend it.
Oh, it's not the slightest use
When your 'right' becomes 'abuse'.
'Tis the law of legislative evolution
That every Great Reform is won, 'spite arguments abuse
By altering the blessed Constitution.
Gentle Tory, prithee hark
Back to Ung of ages dark,
And defend his blessed code with sandstone axes.
Mayhap in that murky bourne
You'll escape a fate forlorn,
Full of New Protection and Progressive Taxes.
And you won't be sorely missed,
If you fall beneath some fist,
For young Progress shouts for men of execution.
And, as regards reform and such, WE'LL DO JUST AS WE LIST,
For it's Ours, this High and Holy Constitution.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The So Called Honorable
For to cling to power or for need of power on most policies they disagree
Between the Government and their Opposition there's does not seem much difference to me
Those out of power verbally attack those in power that is how it's been for years
Who wins or loses the Election should not be cause for joy or tears.
Who is in or out of power I for one do not care
That they do not bring change to my life for the good I am all too aware
Democracy is the best form of Government by many we are told
But the workings of Parliament has not changed from the long gone days of old.
Of the praises of Democratically Elected Governments many feel happy to sing
But in Parliament that Parliamentarians obliged to vote with their own parties does not seem a democratic thing
And that the Party or Parties elected by the majority of the voters makes decisions for everyone
Is hardly true democracy when all is said and done.
The hierarchy refer to Parliamentarins as the honorable a title he or she for life does keep
But such a title for most Politicians makes the word honor seem cheap
Like dysfunctional adolescents in Parliament every day
Supposed to be honorable men and women behave in a most immature way.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Genesis BK XIX
(ll. 1167-1180) And after Cainan Mahalaleel possessed the land
and treasure many a year. The prince lived five-and-sixty
winters, and begat a son. An heir was born unto his house, and
his kinsmen called him Jared, as I have heard. Mahalaleel lived
long, enjoying bliss on earth, the joys of men, and worldly
treasure. And all the years of Mahalaleel were eight hundred
five-and-ninety winters, and he died, and gave the land and rule
unto his son.
(ll. 1180-1196) A long time Jared dealt out gold to men. He was
a righteous prince, a noble earl, dear to his kinsmen He lived
an hundred five-and-sixty winters in the world, and, when her
time was come, his wife brought forth her first-born, a goodly
son. And his name was Enoch. Eight hundred years his father
lived, and increased his tribe. And all the years of Jared were
nine hundred five-and-sixty winters, and he died, and gave the
land and rule unto his son, the wise and well-loved prince.
(ll. 1197-1217) And Enoch ruled the folk, led them in ways of
peace, and no wise let his sway and power lessen, while he was
lord over his kinsmen. Now Enoch prospered and increased his
tribe three hundred years. And God, the Lord of heaven, was
gracious unto him! In his natural body he entered into heavenly
joy and the glory of God, dying no mortal death as men do here,
the young and old, what time God taketh from them wealth and
substance and earthly treasure and their life; but with the King
of angels he departed still alive out of this fleeting life, in
the same vestments which his soul received before his mother bare
him. He left the people to his eldest son. And all the years of
Enoch were three hundred five-and-sixty winters, and he died.
(ll. 1217-1224) Then Methuselah held sway among his kinsmen, and
longest of all men enjoyed the pleasures of this world. He begat
a multitude of sons and daughters before his death. And all the
years of Methuselah were nine hundred and seventy winters, and he
died.
(ll. 1224-1236) And Lamech, his son, succeeded him and kept the
treasure. Long time he ruled the land. He lived an hundred and
two winters, and begat children. And the lord and leader of the
folk lived five hundred five-and-ninety years, enjoying many
winters under heaven, ruling the folk with wisdom. And Lamech
increased his tribe, begetting sons and daughters. He called the
name of the first-born Noah; and Noah ruled the land after the
death of Lamech.
(ll. 1237-1247) Now Noah, the lord of men, lived five hundred
winters, as the books say, and begat children. The first-born
son of Noah was Shem, and the second Ham, and the third Japheth.
And the folk grew in number under heaven, and the multitude of
the race of men increased throughout the earth. The tribe of
Seth, the well-loved prince, was still exceeding dear to God, and
blessed in His love!
CANADIANS DON'T HAVE TO VOTE Apr 12th,2011
Canadians will get what we deserve because only a few vote,
Politicians inclined to view us as a herd of goats,
As they hide like aristocrats in Ottawa and tax and spend,
Or travel the world with a planeload of family and their friends.
Did someone say that our system of government can’t be changed?
Binding referendums or death-with-dignity never arranged,
Where’s the leadership to get us out of the present mess?
Surely someone has some guts somewhere in all our distress.
I’d like to live as long as possible and then plan my death,
No politician has come up with a better plan than that yet,
They each have their own party agenda and they think it’s great,
Nothing outside of their party agenda is up for debate.
April 12th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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Git-Yer-Gun
Thus it happened .... Let me mention, lest I raise an unsought quarrel,
This occurred in times long vanished, in the land of Git-yer-gun.
'Tis a quaint, unlikely story; some folk say it has a moral;
But that's a little matter you may settle when I'm done.
Mr. Foodle led a party that was strongly democratic,
And it represented people with the Christian name of Bill.
And in all his hustings speeches Mr. Foodle was emphatic
That his crowd existed solely to uphold the people's will.
Mr. Boodle led a party that was Liberal - or Tory
(Just according to your view-point) - and it represented those
Christened (by immersion) Percy, whose hot socks proclaimed their glory;
And its policy was such as you may readily supose.
So they strove in an election .... (Now, I wish it noted plainly
That this happened years ago, and in the land of Git-yer-gun) ....
And each side employed its talent to upbraid the other mainly,
While the voters cheered them madly, and the crowd enjoyed the fun.
The Democratic Party (Bill by name) supported Foodle
For such was the convention with this quaint old Party Plan
While the Tories fought like fury to promote the cause of Boodle,
And, of course, the crowd named Percy voted for him to a man.
And the others of the nation - all the Johns and Jeremiahs,
All the Peters, Pauls and Paddys, all the Colins and Carews,
All the Richards and the Roberts, and the Hanks and Hezekiahs
Voted for some bloque or other, each according to his views.
Then they counted up the numbers, when at last the fight was over,
And both Democrats and Tories - Bills and Percys - looked quite sour
When the numbers showed them clearly neither party stood in clover;
For a few odd Independents held the balance of the power.
Mr. Foodle called his Caucus .... And he put it to them plainly:
'Never mind the Bills,' said Foodle; 'we have got them in the box.
If we would escape extinction 'tis our plan to pander mainly
But with caution - to the Percys and the cause of fancy socks.
'For,' said Mr. Foodle gravely, 'understand me, votes are needed!
How to catch and how to keep them is the question of the hour.
Never mind your Public Questions; let the Big Things go unheeded;
We must compromise a little if we mean to hold the power.'
Mr. Boodle called his Caucus ... And he put it to them clearly'
'Gentlemen, ignore the Percys! We have got them in the bag!
But the Bills, we must remember, have the votes we covet dearly;
And till we contrive to get them we must let the Big Things lag.'
So began the op'ning session, with both sides electioneering;
Boodle grew more democratic; Foodle watered down his views;
Bit by bit they drew together, more and more alike appearing,
Till the voters, looking at them, vowed there wasn't much to choose.
Sometimes Foodle reigned in office, sometimes it was Mr. Boodle.
'Twas the Grand Old Party System, for the shibboleth held still.
And they vowed that ev'ry voter - (as was plain to any noodle)
Must most palpably be Percy if he wasn't christened Bill.
Meantime all the Dicks and Davids, all the Johns and Jeremiahs,
All the Mats and Pats and Peters, surnamed Smith or Brown or Burke,
Shouted with the Ned and Normans and the Hanks and Hezekiahs,
'What of those Big Public Questions? When do you begin to work?'
Still the factions went on fighting - ('Tis a right that factions cherish)
But on one important matter both the parties were agreed;
In this world of sin and sorrow Bills may die and Percys perish,
But the votes to hold his billet are a politician's need.
Boodle battled strenuously, on his rival's ground encroaching;
Fearlessly the Foodle faction sneaked the other Party's views;
Full of fight were both opponents; the elections were approaching;
And upon mere Public Business none had any time to lose.
With the public patience straining, and quite half the nation scoffing
At the Bill and Percy parties, and the voters in despair.
Lo, a party led by Doodle rose serenely in the offing;
And it said it represented folk who sported Ginger Hair.
Doodle soon became the fashion: thousands flocked aronud his banner;
Scores of Antonys and Arthurs, Joes and Jacobs, Mats and Micks,
(Even some stray Bills and Percys renegaded). In like manner
Flocked the Hanks and Hezekiahs, and the Davids and the Dicks.
All the Red-haired of the nation joined the mighty Doodle party;
And the Brown-haired and the Black-haired and the Grey-haired sought him too;
For, they said, 'What does it matter? He has our support most hearty.
Never mind what shade your hair is. He will see the Big Things through!'
Then, when that great Doodle Party swept the polls at next election,
What a great rejoicing followed! Heavens, how the people cheered!
And the Boodle-Foodle party - (fused for general protection)
Was so absolutely routed that it almost disappeared.
How the Dicks and Davids shouted with the Johns and Jeremiahs:
'We don't care what shade his hair is - black or brown or pink or blue!'
'Glory!' cried the Mats and Michaels with the Hals and Hezekiahs.
'Hail to Doodle! Red-haired Doodle! He will see the Big Things through!'
Mr. Dooddle called his Caucus .... And he put it to them tersely:
'Gentlemen, it now behoves us, seeing all the votes we've got,
To be very, very careful lest we're criticised adversely.
Never mind the Red-haired voters; we have got them in the pot.
'But,' continued Mr. Doodle, 'there are others - perfect snorters.
There's this new Bald-headed Party led by Snoodle! Statesmanship
Now demands we do our utmost to win over his supporters.
Meantime, gentlemen, I'm thinking we must let the Big Things rip.
'Or, if we must tackle something to allay the public clamor,
Let us not be over-zealous and this alientate support
From our Party when the...Gracious!!!!'
I should like to go on telling how they fared; but foreign raiders
At this very hour descended on the land of Git-yer-gun;
And the Red-heads and the Bald-heads fell beneath the fierce invaders
Men who bore aloft a banner blazoned with a Rising Sun.
And they smote the Pats and Percys, and the Jims and Jeremiahs.
Bashed the Doodles, smashed the Snoodles, left the Mats and Micks for dead.
Thrust cold steel into the vitals of the Hanks and Hezekiahs,
And plugged all the Johns and Jacobs and the Josephs full of lead.
Thus it happened .... As I've mentioned, some folk think it has a moral.
You may judge that little matter, as I said when I began.
'Tis to me the simple story of a very ancient quarrel
'Mid the Git-yer-gun debaters with their quait old Party Plan.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Get Work
On one fine but fatal morning in the early Eocene,
Lo, a brawny Bloke set out to dig a hole:
First of men to put a puncture in the tertiary green
Was this early, neolithic, human mole.
Gladsomely the toiler hefted his ungainly wooden spade,
As he scarified the bosom of old earth;
And our Progress forthwith started when his first spade-thrust was made,
While the cult of Work, or Graft, was given birth.
Oh, he flung the clods about him with a gay and prideful jerk,
Did this bright and early anthropoidal Bloke.
With the crowd that gathered, goggle-eyed, to watch him at his work
He would crack a pleasant, prehistoric joke.
And they gazed at him in wonder; for the custom of the mob,
When not occupied in inter-tribal strife,
Hitherto had been to eat, and sleep, and hunt, and cheat, and rob
Quite a simple and uncomplicated life.
Wherefore being new and novel, he was treated with respect,
This inventor of the job of shifting sand:
And with fresh-killed meat and fruit and furs his cave the tribesmen decked.
While his praises sounded high on ev'ry hand.
And the chieftain bade his artists in crude pictures to inscribe
On the shin-bone of a Dinosauromyth:
'Lo, the gods have sent a thing called Graft to bless this happy tribe,
And a scheme of Public Works will start forthwith.'
Ev'ry day, from early dawn till dark, the delver labored on
Till the tribesmen grew accustomed to the sight;
And the hunters, on their way to slay the mud-fat mastodon,
Would delay to say he wasn't doing right.
And the loafers from the Lower Caves, who lived by stealing meat,
All the day around the contract used to lurk;
And, when'er he paused to wipe his brow or took time off to eat,
They would yell at him in chorus: 'Aw, git work!'
Fat and lazy fur-skin-traders - wealthy men of such a size
That it took five hides to make them each a vest -
On their way to cheat their neighbors, paused awhile to criticise;
Calling, 'Loafer!' ev'ry time he stopped to rest.
They no longer stocked his larder with the trophies of the chase,
Or the neolithic substitute for beer:
For the chief said: 'He's a worker; we must keep him in his place!'
And the bloated fur-skin-traders cried, 'Hear, hear!'
And he soon became the scapegoat and the butt of all the tribe,
And he dwelt within the smallest, meanest cave,
While the rich and idle troglodytes were readiest to gibe,
Till they worried him into an early grave.
Then the minstrel (And I wot he was a wise prophetic bard,
And an anthropoid philosopher of note),
Took another mammoth shin-bone and scatched it with his shard
In his picture-script; and this is what he wrote:-
'Here lies the simple silly coot who first discovered Toil.
Him who started progress onward on her way;
Though he didn't get much fun from it, he moved some tons of soil;
But, 'tis said, he never fairly eanred his pay.
Lo, this thing called Work is blessed, for it shifts a lot of sand!
And this progress eases him who lives by tricks.
But the Bloke who lumps the Bundle, down through ev'ry age and land,
Shall be paid for harder work with harder kicks.'
Now that Paleolithic prophet on some sandstone stratum lies, With his shin-bones of the Dinosauromyth,
But the Bloke who shoves the shovel still his thankless calling plies,
And his name is Michael Burke or Peter Smith.
In the highway doth he labor, in the searching public gaze,
And he dare not pause, his aching back to rest,
Lest he cause a howl of protest from the trader of these days
With the large gold chain across his convex chest.
Lest he cause a howl of protest from 'Pro Bono Publico.'
And lest 'Constant Reader' cry his shame aloud,
He must keep his shovel moving - and he moves it all too slow
For the critics in the great White-handed crowd.
Till they get a patent navvy with a dynamo for head,
Or a petrol-tank for stomach, take my word,
He'll be ever up against it who shifts sand to earn his bread,
And the howling of the traders will be heard.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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In Democracy People Are Supreme
In democracy people are supreme
People elected their representatives
And sent to parliament to make laws
On behalf of them.
To make democracy a success
Endemic protest is necessary
To make the representatives in order
They should cautioned.
People are the soul of parliament
Parliament can change but not people
People are the root parliament is foot.
Come to the people O parliamentarian
O representatives of people
People are your master
You are there in different posts to
Serve the people and to do all welfare works.
Democratic institutions are for the people
Without people the state is a big zero
In democracy people are supreme
Do not handle the people in whim.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Surprise in Malaysia - A State Assembly under a Tree
a State Assembly
held under a raintree
this awakening that the seed
of democracy was sown
in the streets of Athens
The Perak State Assembly Speaker V Sivakumar (member of Pakatan Rakyat) yesterday (March 3,2009) held an emergency State Assembly under a tree in Ipoh, the State capital of Perak. They were disallowed into the State Assembly Hall. Perak was well known for its tin trade in the 19th and 20th century.
Pakatan Rakyat lost its governing mandate last month when three of its members defected to the State Barisan Nasional (BN) . The State Speaker however said the three had earlier resigned from the Party and therefore their constituencies. The BN therefore cannot form the new State Government. Pakatan Rakyat wants a fresh election to be held to determine the new government for the people of Perak.
The following by Clive S Kessler is Emeritus Professor of Sociology and Anthropology
DATUK Seri Azalina Othman Said has characterised the attempt of the Speaker to convene an emergency sitting of the Perak state assembly as 'uncivilised' and as recourse to the 'law of the jungle'.
Never in the country's history, she avers, has a state assembly sitting been convened under a tree. Perhaps she is right. But some further historical perspective is needed.
In 1789, when the King of France sought to forbid the so-called 'Third Estate' or representatives of the people from meeting to discuss urgent national business, they convened on a Paris tennis court.
This too was, at the time, unprecedented and surprising.
They passed their 'Tennis Court Oath' that they would not disperse, adjourn or relent until their right to convene and discuss important public matters as the people's legitimate representatives was acknowledged.
That, too, was presumably seen as an 'insult' to the ruler, King Louis XVI.
It was also the beginning, for better or worse, of the French Revolution and of the entire drama of modern representative democracy and popular sovereignty. Those who seek to invoke history should know history. It may often prove a double-edged sword.
-
Clive S Kessler is Emeritus Professor of Sociology and Anthropology at the School of Social Sciences and International Studies at the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Lokpal Bill Debate
The nation’s people wish him ‘all the best
May God grant Anna Hazare good rest
Lokpal debate will end victoriously
The resolution will come out grandly
Thanks to efforts by Anna in this way
Corruption henceforth will be held at bay
India cannot afford to lose its wealth
More than a billion need good food and health
All hope day twelve will end Anna’s fast fast
Indians’ sufferings will be a thing of past
The Lok Sabha will deliver its goods
Let people come out safely from the woods
All honest people thank Anna for his
Great fight glorious, exemplary, with bliss
He gave his heart and soul to fight this crime
He did so well but did not have much time
The act of valour will be etched in gold
In time’s history, related and retold
Like Gandhi, Anna has done great a thing
Anna is the Anti corruption King
India can progress faster here after
The common man can live with smiles, laughter
The love of lucre will abate a lot
Because of second Freedom, Anna got
Kudos to Anna Hazare, the Great
Who changed common man’s miserable fate!
May Anna Hazare live long with health
He is the Indian nation’s priceless wealth
poem by John Celes
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Holiest Among Holy Places
Holiest among holy places
Parliament is suppose to be in that case
Which house representatives all races?
To show whole of country with beautiful face
Constitutional fathers pledged
Public sentiments acknowledged
Vowed to be precise and true secular
With no bias in mind to be shown as particular
No cast, color, or creed
No office of profit or crave for greed
Such people were to suppose to with life of supreme sacrifice
Enshrined in constitution such safeguards with high promises
Illiteracy and population played trick
Jackals jumped in fray with wealth and sticks
No one to question and no where to mention
Open field and everything for retention
Laws and ordinances to be enacted at ease
Perks and benefits to find quick release
'You take this and leave this for me'
Grabbers gathered and robbed the tree
New slogan created and strategy planned
No more guilty if by judiciary not banned
Enjoy as much as you can and defy the system
Take out the whole tree along with root and stem
Enter the holy house and escape the arrest
Waste the time, stall the process and eat at cheap rate
Whole nation weeps for waste of food grain
Poor die, farmers' suicide and others suffer pain
We are truly democratic and allow free page
Protect culprits in custody and provide amenity in cage
Millions are spent on maintenance but no rooms for school
Kids can't study and we turn criminals in strength full
We hang no criminals for purchase of votes
Catch no culprit even if bombs they denote
We have intelligence in put but no proof
Leave it to States and allow rain water to leak through roof
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Anna Hazare – Icon of Anti-Corruption War In India
He fights for just a cause,
A righteous man because;
He garners support much;
And has a golden touch!
He aims to serve brethren;
Through them God in heaven;
The country’s gone corrupt;
But bill can’t come abrupt!
He won many laurels;
Today, he just quarrels;
He wants to cleanse the land;
He has clean slate and hand!
Yet, precious is his life;
Corruption is so rife;
He ought to set time-frame;
But who will take the blame?
Anna must end his fast;
Don’t worry about past;
His health in danger lies;
A starved tree always dies!
Let’s trust the Parliament;
We need a firmament;
All things need natural times,
Despite the changing climes!
Adamant stir doesn’t work;
Unbending can much irk;
Each bill needs much debate;
Corruption must abate!
Respect the law-makers;
Don’t join the law-breakers;
Good people are with you;
All righteous, you can woo.
Call off your fast, Sir, fast;
Bury ill-feelings past;
Allow a fair debate;
No one must you ev’r hate!
All things must start off first;
Do not invite the worst;
You must stay healthy, live;
Bees can build newer hive!
Love is the key weapon;
’Tis mightier than the pen;
A patient man will win
A war that is not sin!
Give up your fast now, man;
God grant you long life-span;
Live for your ailing land;
Now, wave your magic wand!
India is sacred soil;
You have given your toil;
Prudence must rule your mind;
With God, a win, you’ll find!
Give up your fast now, Sir!
Just continue your stir;
The bill will come for sure;
With it, corruption’s cure!
Anna, you are so great;
Call fast before date;
God beside you does stay;
Soon will come your D-day!
‘my plea to Anna Hazareji
on behalf of all honest Indian citizens’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-08-11
poem by John Celes
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A sixty three years old democracy
We are a democracy completed years sixty three
We are, but, yet to be freed
From the clutches of caste and creed
And, the worst of all, that of greed
While the first two divide us
The third one destroys us
Most of the decision makers
And policy makers
Are driven by these three principles
And we are still limping
Towards that horizon and daylight
Having been freed in the middle of the night
Rare it is to come across
Personalities now a days
Despite our having
More than a thousand million people
Most of our people
In poverty
And in the darkness of ignorance
Find it difficult to
Understand the qualities
Of the people, whom they elect
To rule us
Elected ones, though not in poverty,
Are as ignorant as the people
Who voted them to power
How many more independence days
Are we going to cross
In fact, there is no celebration
For most of our people
Know not what independence really means
For them it means,
Simply means, they have the right
To select wrong people
We have not forgotten our long history
We know
King’s son becomes the king
So we maintain that
Prime Minister’s son or daughter
Should become prime minister
Chief Minister’s son or daughter
Should become chief minister
We love our families
We take good care of sons, daughters,
Their off-springs
We take care of our relatives as well
We take care of people
Belonging to our caste, religion or creed
We are happy
When our elected leaders also do the same
We do not believe in technical decisions
We advocate the cause
Of taking such decisions
Which match our above
Familial policies enhancing
Opportunities for our own people
Subramanya Bharati wrote
When will our thirst for freedom quench
This thirst will never be quenched
As water to quench that thirst
Is no where visible
Nor we know where to look for it
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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