Banjo Paterson,

You don't by any chance have a video of them doing 'Kumbaya' for Foxy?

Dear David,

"Our universities and halls of learning inspire questions and help him to realise he is not a carnivore who is ruled by blood lust but a human who is emerging from tribalism."

Unquestionably, but perhaps a slightly different interpretation of the inherent message:

'Poetic licence' - reflecting Man as Beast (of carnivorous impulse), hopefully to be guided by study (of penned works) away from base instincts, away from 'tribalism' - but, irrespective of learning, when the bell rings, the drum beats, the call may be irresistible?

Perhaps:

".. his universities and halls of learning yet avail him nought;
the jungle beats enact the same stage plays -
one kind, one king, one death the same -
in duty and in worship all the same
differing nought
for death wears the same cloak regardless of technology or sport."

I think the poem has great merit (and message), if not perfectly composed - but then, poetry, in imagery, may question our vision?

'Whom the gods love die young,' was said of yore,
And many deaths do they escape by this:
The death of friends, and that which slays even more—
The death of friendship, love, youth, all that is,
Except mere breath; and since the silent shore
Awaits at last even those who longest miss
The old archer's shafts, perhaps the early grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.

Don Juan, Lord Byron

At 94 most of my friends are dead. My daughter's husband just died. It doesn't seem right that the next generation is dying. I interact with ghosts on olo, people who I will probably never meet. It's good to die young. It's better not to be born at all, but not everyone is that lucky.

Dear David,

What Kevin Gilbert seems to be asking is, what effect
does the written word have in the long term?
"The pens in great tragedienne lines extol the
meritorious lie, the grand excuse justification for
this carnivore..." Does it signify nothing but a
moment of excited hope?

The poet suggests that perhaps we have to accept that
there is no possibility of change for the better in
mankind's political and social evolution. After all,
hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of years have
passed already while mankind persists in chopping
up and carving human bodies in continuous carnage...

"This carnivore called man who can't evolve in his state..."

The poet indicates that perhaps the predatory carnivorous
"jungle beast" cannot change the evolutionary and
predictable patterns of living and death. That perhaps
the "soldier" image can never change.

"The sword in russet hue lies mouldering
its sharp and shiny edge now dulled by
peace
and blood-lust sated between customers
like some old time worn harried whore
well past her prime
awaiting some -- brute hand to
wield her hate

The bugler sounds, the drummer sounds
his beat
bright swords refurbished tilt to
marching feet
gay ribands, uniforms and epaulets
entrap the eye, the sould till madness sway
them to the dance, of death the piper plays".

As I stated earlier this poem is written by a poet, who
is passionate in his concern for humanity. It is a poem
written by a poet who feels that the essence of the war
question (nuclear war for us) must be tested against the
most primary of impulses, species and race survival.

Kevin Gilbert, in this poem shows us not only his poetic
intensity, but also that he has an ear for different rhythms
and registers of language.

I thought it appropriate to add to this discussion. And also
because stereotyping came into the discussion as well - I
thought it apt to select a poem that certainly nudged
my own stereotypes of what and how an Aboriginal poet
would write.

Dear Banjo,

Thank You for the links.

Very joyful.

Dear Saltpetre,

I agree with Rabbi Maryanne Williamson whose
wish is:

that despite all the hatred
that may exist around us - let us follow our better
angels and knock down the walls that separate us and
the chains that hold us down. Let us remove from our
hearts the illusion that we are separate and may
every nation and every people and every religion find
at last the one heartbeat we share.

Gilbert writes beautifully and hadn’t been spoiled. When I edited Social Alternatives we used to get works from Aborigines. Many had preserved the rhythms of an oral culture, the patterns of sound and the vivid imagery. I remember we got one submission from an Aborigine with a degree in English. It was in stultifying academic prose. He had been neutered.