Stars in the carpet Alone in my Bronte bedroom, musing on aging.
Benighted States of Generica Pissed off with crass daggy garish commercialisation that day. Especially the stupidity of the American dream.
Dungog by accident Went to a festival, got thoroughly munted, had a great time with great people. “I love you man.”
Time to go, lost my keys. Hence the poem.
Country lunch break Driving from mid north coast back to Sydney yet again. Went the inland route. Stopped for lunch.
Here’s the town.
Urunga slice 2013. My Mum’s had a stroke. I’m her carer.
She’s on the way out. This is where she lived.
This is what it was like. I’m still there.
Wasted words Staring into the abyss that is thinking about ageing, death and fear.
High viz A friend said,
“Wadey, can you write some words about high viz, this other bloke wants to write a song about it?”
“Sure” I said.
Other bloke did nothing so I made it into a poem.
Kind of like a rap song.
hugh wade 
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