Monthly Archives: September 2017

LGBTQI March in Sydney and 13 year old wants to marry his idol.

Been in the Sydney burbs house sitting and with added cat and fish feeding duties which is not all that exciting and so last Sunday I made an effort and went into the city hoping to get some good pictures at a ‘Vote Yes’ march. That been of course the same-gender marriage thing again. I took a few hundred pictures most of which are useless as I anticipated they would be given the location (between very boring high rise buildings) and time of day (excessive contrast between sunlit and shaded areas) but was hoping the LGBTQI event might create opportunities for some good human interest pictures. That didn’t work out all that well either because for the greater part the marchers were all white middle class young adults with a few bringing along the kids. Not sure the march would have convinced a single ‘No’ voter to vote ‘Yes’ if that was the intention because where it failed was in not putting forward a reason why a person who believes marriage is between a man and a woman should change their voting intentions. Stamping your foot and screaming ‘Not Fair!’ is not a valid argument as many children find out when they try it on their parents.

I’ve been over this same-gender marriage thing more than enough already and will maybe just post some pictures when I get around to sorting and processing what is worth salvaging but there is one I think speaks in support of Ginsberg’s piece I published here recently in which he argues amongst other things for the need to deal with the sexual rights of teenagers. Something the mainstream LGBTQI have run away from out of fear of rejection by the conservative hetero majority. I took the picture below in a railway station as I waited for the train back to the suburbs. I had to be quick because the kid frequently repositioned the sign between bouts of whatever he was doing on his phone and therefore the less than perfect quality of the snap shot.

:Picture of 13 year old boy on station platform with pro same gender marriage sign.

Wish them both well.

We understand from what he has written on his placard that he is thirteen and wishes to marry a male — and edit, my flatmate set me straight on who this Chris is, an actor apparently, but the point remains — end of edit. Anyway, there you have it, out in the open that young teenagers make choices, identify as gay and fall in love. None of this can be swept back under the carpet which means that limitations on what can be said in debate, written or represented in the visual arts is useless and this all encompassing taboo is even dangerous given that youth have discovered – and I have this from sources and NOT from my own research – other platforms where their expressions of sexual desire are, let’s say, welcomed and eagerly encouraged.

Of course legislation is needed but by itself it will not resolve this issue. We also need intelligent and informed discussion and up-to-date sex education. I hear already those who would say that a strict environment in which kids are ‘kept innocent’ is the way to deal with what they would describe as sexual promiscuity in children and to them I would reply that research carried out by a NYT journalist some years ago found that half of all boys working as under-age male prostitutes in New York are from fundamentalist Christian families. Makes sense – in a conservative religious family a same-gender-attracted child quickly learns that receiving love from those he or she loves depends on he or she accepting to self-hate in silence and isolation. They will seek out their kind but are likely to do so in a self-destructive way because that is how they have learned to express and interact with their sexuality. I can remember myself growing up under those circumstances and thinking back it’s a miracle I survived to adulthood. I used to fantasize about been able to bring a boyfriend home and receive the same approving reception as I did if I came home with a girl. I liked girls but most often the relationship failed because of my lack of physical interest. I could manage a half-decent performance – I think – but only when drunk and at a time when I was still young enough to be less fussy about what was in the bed.

OK – blabbered on a bit more than planned but there is just one final thing I want to add and it’s the reason why I will vote ‘Yes’ in this postal plebiscite despite as all who come here know, having reservations based on the possibility of a backlash caused by a lack of clarity on issues such as the rights of the child in same-gender families and lack of discussion about how all this will change the institution of marriage. A major concern of those intending to vote ‘No’.

With regard to the institution, same-gender marriage will – possibly – reshape marriage into an institution based on the celebration of love between two equals and not on child raising and property. Same-gender marriage presents an opportunity for heteros to also rethink their marriages, most of which fail, and therefore same-gender marriage could benefit all of society.

The second reason for my ‘Yes’ vote is that as same-gender-attracted people we have fought and won many battles and now that we have started this one, we can’t afford for the sake of younger gays like the boy in the picture, to lose it. Even if I still think it is strategically risky and it might have been a better idea to win this debate in factory lunchrooms and by the water bubbler of city offices before asking the public for a decision. The fact of homosexuals having to ask the heteros for their approval also doesn’t sit comfortably with me. Anyway – blessings to all and vote with your heart.

Same old and Australia supports those who break international law.

New month started and we have floods all over the place with much talk of ‘community spirit’ but not of the elephant in the room which is of course Climate Change. Here in Australia the talking point is still same-gender marriage so desperately wanted by the feminist movement and of course the shorty boy in North Korea whom we must assume is reacting to internal threats to his leadership. In fact – fairly sure the North Koreans would be happy to see him fed to the dogs.

Still waiting for a reply from the office of the prime minister, our local member of parliament – Labor federal MP Susan Templeman – and the Australian government’s security website about why Australian citizens are allowed to join the Israeli Defence Force and not Islamic State? Now over a week later I have still not received a response and so must assume that both sides of politics are closing a blind eye to what is a double standard and one that can only cause resentment in the Muslim community. As a nation we will pay a price for choosing to support the morally indefensible actions of a rogue nation (that being a nation that does not respect international law).

And otherwise – further progress on books, animation and a bit of photography is being made and also some Iiado katas and riding of the mountain bike every day to prepare for my next attempt at a long ride out west when the weather warms up a bit more.

Not much to say so will leave you with these words of Palestinian poet Mazen Maarouf,

One day
I’ll tear off my lips
and eat them
like candy.
One day
I’ll rip out my chest
because I’m not an orphanage
for gathering angels.
One day
I’ll remove the door
and stand in its stead
to stop myself from leaving
for the hole in the world.

and one by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish,


Here is your name
said the woman
and vanished in the corridor

A hand’s reach away I see heaven
a dove’s white wing transporting me to another childhood
and I don’t dream that I’m dreaming
Everything is real
I meet myself at my side
And fly

I will become what will be in the final circuit
Everything is white
The sea hanging above a roof of white clouds
in the sky of the absolute white nothingness
I was and was not
Here alone at the white frontier of eternity.

I came before my hour so no angel approaches to ask:
what did you do over there in the world?

I don’t hear the chorus of the righteous or wailing of
I’m alone in whiteness

At the gate of resurrection nothing hurts
neither time past nor any feeling
I don’t sense the lightness of things nor the weight of
There’s no one to ask:
where now is my where?
Where is the city of death
Where am I?
In this no-here…
no-time and nothingness

As if I had died already
I know this story
I know that I go towards what I don’t know
Perhaps I’m still alive somewhere
Aware of what I want…

One day I’ll become what I want
One day I will become a thought
that no sword or book can dispatch to the wasteland
A thought equal to rain on the mountain split open by a
blade of grass
where power will not triumph
and justice is not fugitive

One day I’ll become what I want
One day I’ll become a bird
that plucks my being from nothingness.
As my wings burn I approach the truth
and rise from the ashes
I am the dialogue of dreamers
I shunned body and self to complete the first journey
towards meaning
but it consumed me then vanished
I am that absence
The fugitive from heaven

One day I’ll become what I want
One day I’ll become a poet
Water obedient to my vision
My language a metaphor for metaphors
I don’t speak or indicate a place
Place is my sin and subterfuge
I am from there
My here leaps from my footstep to my imagination…
I am from what was or will be I was created and destroyed in the expanse of the endless

One day I’ll become what I want
One day I’ll become a vine
Let summer distill from me now
so passers-by beneath the chandeliers of this most sugared
may drink my wine!

I am the message and the messenger
The small addresses and the post

One day I’ll become what I want

Here is your name
said the woman
and vanished in the corridor of her whiteness
Here is your name, memorize it well!

Don’t quibble over a letter of the alphabet
Ignore the tribal banners
Be friendly to your name which doesn’t stand but lies
across the page
Test it out with the living and the dead
Train it in its proper pronunciation with strangers
Write it on a rock in the empty cave
O my name: you will grow as I do
You will carry me as I carry you
for strangers are brothers to strangers
We’ll entice the feminine with a vowel devoted to flutes
Oh my name: where are we now?
Speak out: what is now what is tomorrow?
What is time and place?
What’s old what’s new?

One day we’ll become what we want
The journey hasn’t begun and the path hasn’t ended
The wise haven’t reached their exile
nor the exiles their wisdom
The only flower we know is the red anemone

Come let’s go towards the highest mural:
The land of my poem is green and high
God’s words at dawn are the land of my poem
and I’m the faraway
far away

In every breeze a woman mocks her poet:
Collect the woman you saw in me
who was shattered
and give me back my femininity
for I have nothing left to do but contemplate the lake’s
Get rid of my tomorrow
Return my yesterday
and leave us alone together
After you
nothing leaves and nothing returns

Take back the poem if you want
for me there’s only you in it
Take back your “I”
The exile will be complete with what’s left of handwriting
written for the carrier pigeons
At the end which me am I in us?
Of the two of us
let me be the last
A star will fall between the written and the said
A memory will lay out its thoughts: we were born in the
time of the sword and the trumpet
between the fig and the cactus

Death was slower then more clear there was a truce across
the mouth of the river
Now the electronic button works alone
the killer doesn’t hear his victims
and the martyrs don’t read out a testament

What breeze brought you here?
Tell me the name of your wound and I’ll tell you the road
where we’ll lose ourselves twice!
Your heartbeats hurt me for they lead to the time of legends
My blood hurts me
Salt hurts me…
and my jugular vein

In the broken jug the women of the Syrian plains lament
the length of the journey
and are scorched by the August sun
I saw them on the road to the well before my birth
and I heard the water in the clay weeping for them:
Return to the clouds and bring the carefree days


Blessings to all.