Burley‘s Electrum

Relative clauses
Possessive pronouns
Look it up in the Style Writers Guide,
It will tell you
Where to add your colons.
Omit everything
And nothing
For when you are done editing
That work of yours is public
You'll never see it again
Unless its a fuck-up of course
And then we'll know who to blame.

Goulburn gets a bad rap
For a place to bypass
According to the Songlines
It's no coincidence they say,
That institutions, prisons and asylums
Gravitated to that spot.
Incarcerate yourself
For ignoring the Spirit‘s wisdom
While you plot and plan the domain of your fiefdom.
But if we talk long enough with  Spirit
Maybe make an appointment with Aunt Matilda
Will there be a way to clear it all up
Make it habitable for all?


Walter Burley and his electrum
Long since replaced by the Surley Griffins
We acknowledge traditional land owners
While in other states politic
Some would love nothing better
Than to assimilate
And make do with this thing,
Cultural Amnesia.
So frustrating,
You aren't my Generation
Why are you making decisions
When I told you personally of everything I oppose?
Sincerely, I like all of it
Except for,
Your ideology
Your supporters
Your agenda
And my ineptitude.
I'm confused now,
Do I dislike me
Or is it you?

Do you know of your country?
That place where your people come from.
We are the intelligensia.
We gather,
We pool,
Collect, critique and analyse.
But when it comes down to it
The travels of our mind
Usually a long way from home.

The bay of Echo
Otherwise termed
Yarralumla
by the Ngunnawal
Is but one place
Said to be a horticultural suburb.
Designed around strict hierarchy
With the heart at it's centre
Not too unlike this valley
Now colonised.
The heart of the Nation
From which support of services spreads itself out.
Though it be a gathering place,
Gather your things before you stagnate
And move on.

Kintore, Coranderrk and Goodparla
Otherwise known as Day, Christmas Bush and a homestead.
Red Hill, Mt. Ainslie  and  Mt. Painter
Form tripartite vistas for the
Brindabellas  
Vantage point for Thawra
That healing place of business
Where lighting gathers and is drawn
While the rocks that hold what we call art
At Yankee Hat
Sit still on in silence
Another 20,000 years or more.

Meanwhile
Ginninderra,  sparkling like the stars
Sits far away
From the wild peach of Quandong
But nestles closer to
The Ghost Road of the Drovers,
We know it as that street Murranji.

Ambalindum, Erldunda, Dungowan and Kulgera
We like your place names
And would like to borrow them,
Stations and cattle
Represent
A stone‘s throw away from
The rocky little hill
Of  Gungahlin.

Tugranong as it were
These days we call it Tuggers
Back then it meant cold plains.
Not far
The Terror of  Argyle, John Tennant rests
Occupying a distant mountain
Not belonging to the errant cattle
Of Captain‘s Flat.
Bushrangers can still be named.

On any day feel free to drag on your boat.
The formation of a collective
Neo-Phoenician and proud
Skims a man-made lake
Acquainted with the history
Of Molonglo and the Murrumbidgee.

Omit everything
And nothing
For when you are done
Editing
That which was yours
Is now public.