G'day everyone. I did a little interview on 4zzz radio (Brisbane) the other day. All about polarity and its implications especially for political philosophy. Unfortunately the confirmation for the interview came pretty late and I didn't get around to promoting my appearance to any of my 'friends'. Those of you who were lucky enough to hear it, however, will remember that I promised to put the poem that I recited up here on the blog so that you could have a read.

For those of you who didn't hear the intro on the radio, the poem is about the dual nature to economics; cooperation and competition, and I wrote it in 1998 because I was sick of trying to explain the concept to people logically. The poem is therefore heavy on symbolism.

By the way, sorry I've been out of touch a bit. Little Freya is just gone two months old.


The Saviour Explodes into West End


They met at a West End bus-stop,
Just outside a flashy cafe,
She off to work with a purpose,
And he just enjoying the day.

They'd seen one another before then,
Out shopping or crossing the street,
But their lives had appeared so different.
That neither had chosen to speak.

She always dressed up so primly,
With high heels and a neat business suit,
While he with his long hair flowing,
Thought rainbow colours were beaut'.

She was an executive working in sales,
Though young to be so advanced,
She was cool and sharp and hard working,
The competition had no chance.

She was prudent, cagey and thrifty,
Her parents were richer than most,
She ate meat and drank wine with her friends,
At the posh dinner parties she'd host.

He was a hippie who lived on the dole,
He had no career in sight,
He liked natural medicine and philosophy,
And spent half the day smoking a pipe.

He grew up in a commune near Nimbin,
Vegetarians in a tumbledown shack,
When his mates came around they got really stoned,
And played music and sometimes blackjack.

And then came that day at the bus stop,
That neither would ever forget,
It was etched in their minds like a carving in stone,
The day the two of them met.

She had an important deal to clinch,
And was focussed on work to come,
While he was off on a surfing trip,
And was smiling at everyone.

Then their eyes met just like an explosion,
That rocked each of them to their souls,
They found their hands clinched in each other's,
As around them West End dissolved.

Then taking their eyes off each other,
Like coming out of a dream,
They found themselves in the Garden of Eden,
It was a fantastically beautiful scene.

There were flowers and trees and fruit,
And animals all around,
The crickets and birds and frogs,
Were like a stereo with surround sound.

And up a dirt path toward them,
There walked a magnificent couple,
It was Mother Earth and God,
Or I'm a monkey's uncle.

God was dressed up for occasion,
He'd combed his jet black hair,
When they looked at his face they both smiled,
At the powerful empathy there.

Mother Earth was resplendent,
In beautiful iridescent blue,
The smile in her beautiful eyes,
Brought on waves of love in those two,

God spoke and he made them both welcome,
He waved both his hands in the air,
He said, 'Today is the day of your wedding,
The two of you are now a pair!'

They were suddenly bathed in white light,
That was warm and loving and splendid,
And when they returned to the garden,
They found themselves suddenly naked.

As Mother Earth stooped down to kiss them,
The pair were still holding hands,
And as Mother Earth and God departed,
The pair had a lay in the sand.

They were laying there, real close together,
Feeling waves of love wash them through,
When they felt something hard underneath them,
And West End swam back into view.

He missed his lift to the ocean,
And she missed out on clinching her deal,
Because the two of them ran back to her place,
And the sex that they had was unreal.

Three years went by that young couple,
But certainly not without pain,
A child was born of that day's fateful union,
But the couple were nearly insane.

They’d quickly established a routine,
Like a married couple can,
She went out and worked like a horse,
While he stayed at home and got stoned.

And they'd fight like a hurricane at dinner time,
But neither could win the battle,
Neither could see the other one's view,
And they'd shout 'till the whole house would rattle.

She's scream at him, 'Go get a haircut,
And get off your arse for a change,
What's wrong with work for a living?
My friends all think that you're deranged.'

But he'd come back saying, 'You're such a tight-arse!
You have got to learn to relax,
Open your heart to some sharing,
My mates think you're a bloody battle-axe.'

And the poor kid was caught in the middle,
But this was no ordinary child,
It was as calm as a dead-flat ocean,
And had a strongly independent style.

The kid had been born with a purpose,
To teach the whole world how to live,
That kid had an edge on its parents,
And their actions just brightened that gift.

So the wife would be thinking, 'Jacuzzi',
As she prayed for her man to come 'round,
She wants an executive townhouse,
With a swimming pool in-ground.

Meanwhile the husband thinks, 'Commune',
And he meditates on his wife's understanding,
He thinks, 'We'd all be friends and we'd share the sun's rays,
In a commune we'd really be living.'

So one night at the table they're having a doozie,
A fight that would make a ghost quail,
With frying pans flying and plates smashing,
And as usual the kid in the middle.

That kid was sitting in its high-chair,
Halfway through what was a pretty nice meal,
When a knife went whizzing past its nose,
Just brushing the tip with cold steel.

'Right', thought the kid, 'my time has come,
That pair must be put in their place!
How can I wait for my coming of age,
When this place is simply not safe?'

The kid made a sign that was given at birth,
By God in his heavenly home,
Although it was banned for the power it had,
Wasn't safe for someone not grown.

And as that two year old felt power grow,
It called on Mother Earth too,
The power was growing and that little toddler,
Knew now what it had to do.

The kid stood on the table bolt upright,
And the fight that was raging ceased,
The parents were amazed as their dear little kid,
Had grown by at least two feet.

Now that kid was wisdom incarnate,
And it fixed them with a powerful gaze,
But something was snapping as the kid's little body,
Couldn't handle the power engaged.

It suddenly dawned on the toddler,
that it had made a fatal mistake,
Its brain and body were quickly expanding,
It was more than the kid could take.

So with just a few seconds to fulfill its purpose,
Before it would surely be dead,
'It's a paradox!' the kid yelled out,
As the pain was exploding in its head.

'It's about cooperation and competition,
There's a dual nature to economics',
And with those words that kid exploded,
Into a billion tiny little bits.

The parents were killed in the explosion,
The house was a hole in the ground,
But the words had been spoken, the seed was planted,
And West End was fertile ground.

The shock-waves from that kid's utterance,
Reverberated out through West End,
Like waves that will quickly spread outward,
After a rock gets plopped in a pond.

So now all through West End and beyond,
They're being touched by inspiration,
There's a dual nature to economics,
It's about cooperation and competition.