POETRY - Anna

       Random words take on meaning
or does
       meaning take on random words?

community service - Brad Evans

6am

and joe, the neighbourhood drunkard, gets up
leaves his wife
shuffles down the street

he looks like moses
only more dishevelled and a little less crazy.

he dumps his empties into my bin
and says 'thank you' to a vacant street

in bed, I awaken once more
to the unmistakable clink of joe's bottles

and I say 'thank you'
to the bedroom ceiling

and for failing
to get out of bed in time

to give joe
a clip on the chin.

Definition of an Artist - Anna

What is an artist? What makes a true artist? Some people are true artists. They live for their art. They are in a constant state of creativeness. They look artistic. They have artistic conversations. They have artistic beliefs. They are beautiful souls.

Can you call yourself an artist? Do you? Is it just something you switch on or ARE you an artist all the time?

Some people are visual artists or musicians or whatever. They have a 9-5 job to support themselves and are artists in their spare time. Some people are artists all the time. They live for their art. They are true artists. Are the 9-5ers true artists? They are able to switch on and off their artistic talent at will. The others can not. They are permanently artists. Are the 9-5ers lesser artists? They are more conditioned by society to have a job and earn an income and do regular things. Maybe they own a car and a house. They go to bed early because they get up early. They do “normal” things most of the time. The other artist, who lives an artist’s life, may not have a full time job. They practice their art every day. They stay up all night if they are inspired to. They live independently. They are separated from society. They do things their way. They have total freedom. The 9-5er has financial freedom and can do what they like because they have the money for it. But the permanent artist has creative freedom. They can do what they like because they are driven by their art and will find a way. Some true artists can make good money pursuing their art. After some time though (a week, month, year or more) they will turn into the 9-5er. They will become a brand name and are not free to change their artistic direction, therefore deeming their art fake.

So I was wondering what exactly makes a true artist? Is it possible for a 9-5er to be a true artist? If so, how? And what defines them as a true artist? What defines an artist? I would really like to know the answer to this. If anyone knows, please write in and tell me. If there is no set definition, I would at least like to know other people’s opinions. Please give me insight.

The Bus Stop In The Bush - Anna

I would like to preface this by letting you know that this story, unlike my others, is non-fiction. I could give an approximate Melways reference for the Bus Stop but it is quite difficult to the give the exact location as the trail comes to an end early on the map.

It was early Sunday morning and I decided to set off on a long run. I’d been gradually increasing the distance of my Sunday run, and this day I was set to do 33km.

I was running along a trail that follows the river. It’s a great place to run, popular with a lot of runners, as it’s nice and shady with the gum trees, and there is a good range of wildlife to see. I’ve seen rabbits, foxes, lizards, snakes, the occasional black cockatoo, and further along, families of kangaroos.

This would be the furthest I’d ever run and it was a good day for it. Cool and overcast. I was feeling good and strong, pacing myself so I’d last the whole 33km. the trail was soft dirt, and the gum trees towered above me. It really felt like the middle of nowhere. I was quite far away from civilization at the 14k mark and coming across fewer runners and dog-walkers. At the 17k mark, I felt like I was truly alone in the wilderness. This was now the furthest I’d been on this particular trail so I was in new territory for me, and I took the opportunity to take in the environment, listen to the sounds of the bell birds and the odd kookaburra or noisy cockatoo.

At the 22k point, I slowed down a bit as the trail headed up a steep hill. When I got to the top of the hill, I stopped when I saw it.

Just past the crest of the hill was a bus stop sign bolted to a tree. I’d heard of this before, but thought it was a myth. The Bus Stop in the Bush. This is where magical things happen. I found it! I actually got to the Bus Stop in the Bush!

The trail continued round a corner and I walked round to see a veggie patch with the most brilliant orange pumpkins. I knew I could follow the trail ahead to get to my destination, or I could wait at the bus stop for the bus to come. Of course, there were no roads out there, but this was a magical bus that took people to magical destinations.

I sat down against the tree that the sign was bolted to and decided to wait for the bus. I’d heard it usually arrived a dusk, although it could arrive at any time. I stretched my legs out in front of me and closed my eyes. Something good was about to happen. I knew it.

The Madman - Anna

Walking through the eternal garden of Eden,
Everything is perfect if I keep on walking.

Round & round
Talking to myself
Walking round the garden of bliss

What a life!