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A little green dot on the top of my head……

She’s leaving, Cancer made her do it.

Secret writers business

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Secret Writers Business - by quatro

Too much doom and gloom on Orble of late. Heres my thing, I wanted to write something happy about something silly, and this is it. I thought about a silly green dot on the top of my head, and was immediately struck by how funny this can be. I truly hope it brings a smile to everyone who reads it. ...

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So, here is why I think Australia is the most wonderful piece of earth anywhere. Australia, my country; Shes one of a kind. Your image, paintings in some secret, hidden, space, of a stream seen by a child for the first time, of great mountains made of sand and a thousand deserts o...

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Have you lost a loved one to cancer. I have and Im trying to deal with my recent loss to this insidious decease. Shes leaving, Cancer made her do it. Shes leaving, Im grieving, life is far too deceiving, dont talk to me about compassion, dont talk to me about your fashion, n...

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For all of you who live in Melbourne or who have lived in a city that uses light rail vehicles or TRAMS as part of its public transport infrastructure than youll empathise with this story. Hands up all of you that have had difficulty overtaking one of these monolithic Goliaths. Now I know I cant s...

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Seeing that the title from my previous post had some effect I have only to continue in the same manner and I know that I will get there. Where Im getting too is another story and I will, I promise to tell you, when I find out myself. Yesterday I had an enlightening experience. I saw a pink eleph...

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So, since Ive established in my mind from my previous blog that I now live on a planet full of aliens that can read, are intelligent, but leave no comments, I am heaps more relaxed. Well, lets just say I am relaxed; not quite as relaxed as one that just woke up from a forty year coma to discover t...

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A Confined Grim Economic Outlook. Tis but a simple inoffensive whim on my part! Thats all. This is my idea of what I think is a confined grim economic outlook. Try sitting on a barbarious cactuitus imploricus for a spot of light relief and I assure you that would indeed be grim and most certa...

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A few years ago I was very sick. I was in hospital recuperating after an operation. Now due to this operation I could not breath very well and to get out of bed I had to be either assisted by a nurse or I had to use a rope hanging above me to pull myself out of bed. All along it was a serious effort...

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Hang on a minute, there's a lot out there about love and so forth. Well this is my own version, like it or lump it this is what I think love is all about. It's written as always, with tongue in cheeck. Can I ever be serious about anything I wonder? Yea, sure I can, I just choose not too if I can...

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This was written in response to these horrendous fires in Victoria Australia that have now turned into a living hell for so many desperate and hurting people. I saw a poor man crying on TV and he said Ive lost everything now in reference to losing his wife, God I wish I could help me, he was in s...

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My son Oscar is three years old and approaching 13. He prefers to drink his full cream milk with chocolate stirred but never shaken. I dare you try and serve one that is not stirred and watch the sparks fly. Woe is me, for what am I to do when this kid turns into a teenager? And that is a very long...

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Taking the piss out of someone can be fun.. I wrote this as a joke for a couple of work mates who practice a form of martial arts.I turned it into a kind of spoof, an infomertial. It was printed and handed out at work and became a hit.The original had pictures of the guys fighting but for this blog...

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A little green dot on the top of my head……	Australia, my country;	She’s leaving, Cancer made her do it.
Secret writers business	How to overtake a light rail vehicle and remain sane doing it.	Pink elephants do fly and I think they too have been abducted!
Sex please and other Aliens that can read	I can only conclude that only Aliens can read!	A Confined Grim Economic Outlook
An Onion is sitting on the top of my stairs	Nurse, please help me to get out of this bed.	Be my Valentine
Ode to these damned bushfires.	I want my Milk I want it now!	A unique fighting system

Secret Writers Business

A little green dot on the top of my head……

July 2nd 2009 04:38

Too much doom and gloom on Orble of late.
Here’s my thing, I wanted to write something happy about something silly, and this is it. I thought about a silly green dot on the top of my head, and was immediately struck by how funny this can be. I truly hope it brings a smile to everyone who reads it.
Please read this with some silliness (your funniest, deepest voice) and the biggest grin you can possibly muster.

A little green dot on the top of my head……

I would not want a green dot on the top of my head,
neither, would I either,
want a yellow or a red dot on the top of my head.
It is indeed amazing to find that this is so,
that so many people with so many impeccable nipples,
and even more, so many heads,
do not want,
a coloured green dot gracing, the top of their heads.

green dot

Is it an incentive or maybe an inventive,
or is it simply an impeccable thought,
that is mostly improbable that might just be,
an improvable notion, that is truly immovable?
These coloured dots do fit well on the top of my head,
to be paraded and excited, to be shown and exposed,
to fly in the wind,
those wonderful dots of colour,
stuck,
on the top of my head.

'lil ol green guitar

It is a never ending task so cruel,
to constantly replace
and then replace some more,
those excitable dots,
as they fly with a scream
to places unseen,
hiding under pink petals of certain mischievous trees,
with twigs, so green.

A crowning achievement, indeed it must be so,
anything but a mere twinkle,
with just a little bit of an effervescent tickle,
to laugh and to be loud,
that is all,
I think!
A happy constitution overall,
with just a simple green dot on the top of my head.

green salad

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Australia, my country;

June 29th 2009 12:19

So, here is why I think Australia is the most wonderful piece of earth anywhere.

Australia, my country;
She’s one of a kind.

Your image,
paintings in some secret, hidden, space,
of a stream seen by a child for the first time,
of great mountains made of sand
and a thousand deserts of stone,
of a single plant with a single flower
in the middle of a silent lake.

You are an enigma,
regalia be your throne,
you sway your head like the maharani
to the sound of an aboriginal man,
we are all Australian,
gentlefolk of personage,
like a larrikin and a mudlark,
like the sun-downer and the ragamuffin,
all beloved, all a part of you and then some.

An eternity of complicity,
how I lament when people scorn you,
daggers drawn at dawn,
oh, Australia my unsuspicious land,
with your castles in the air,
you are a rose in a garden of thorns,
like a tender hearted phoenix,
you’re so free and so benign,
a land so picturesque and chic,
the enchantress that cast her spell,
Narcissus at her feet.

That’s the mixture it be true,
to be an Australian in all that it’s worth,
proud and honoured to be sure,
content and humbled within this short life,
it is a proud privilege to call myself an Australian.

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She’s leaving, Cancer made her do it.

June 25th 2009 11:23

Have you lost a loved one to cancer. I have and I’m trying to deal with my recent loss to this insidious decease.

She’s leaving, Cancer made her do it.

She’s leaving,
I’m grieving,
life is far too deceiving,
don’t talk to me about compassion,
don’t talk to me about your fashion,
not too sure why I have to reason,
not too sure about where or why,
someone tell me if I’m wrong,
I know that I need to be strong.
She’s leaving,
always giving,
some distant dream too demeaning,
not ready for your understanding,
not ready for your demanding.
She’s leaving,
my life’s bleeding,
love is always bitter when it turns,
a hidden tear, cold as ice,
a tender touch so concise.
She’s leaving,
zero meaning,
a shade of white for a life often sought,
why did she have to leave me why is the day so cold,
why is there so much sunshine, why is there no snow.
She’s leaving,
forever grieving,
please don’t leave me daddy I need you to belong,
mummy was a great dancer,
was cancer mummy’s final answer?

My sister died from cancer recently and she never once complaint about her 16 year battle with it. One normal average day just before she died I could see how sick she was and I broke down in tears in front of her. Her response was to ask me stop crying because she did not have the strength to cry with me. God give me that strength now, because this woman thought about everyone else except herself and tried to make it as easy as possible for us. She also knew she was dying but never said anything until the last day of her life when I was blessed to have a couple of hours alone with her in her hospital room to tell her how much I loved her…She died about 12 hours later and now I am a lesser, poorer person for it. May she rest in peace and may she find peace and love where ever she’s gone.

She’s leaving

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Secret writers business

June 23rd 2009 12:13

To all the visitors of secret writers business,

My name is Alex Teli, I am the proud father to a wonderful son and I love my partner very much and am also loved.
Orble have offered me to choose a site from a selection of inactive blogs and consequently I find myself with “secret writers business”.
I’d like to say many things but let it suffice that I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read on the site very much which was a driving reason for my choice, the other major reason was the name itself.
I love to write and have been actively writing since I was a very young. It is one of the few constants in my life and is responsible in part for the person I am today.
I do so wish that I can do justice to “secret writers business” as its new caretaker and may it continue to grow and inspire; it’s all up to me now. Where we’ll go is anyone’s guess but I can and do enjoy writing everything from black, dry humour to serious and challenging prose.
As for my first venture on “secret writers business” I would like to re-post one of my poems, “the anguish”.
Please enjoy.
Alex.

The anguish.

I wrote this piece long ago but it sums my feelings now because someone that I loved very much passed away recently.
This is for Phyllis..…I miss you terribly and will always love you.

Life is precious, it always has been, it always will be,
how we focus when confronted with its potential loss,
how we feel an abysmal and bewildering sense of emptiness
when we look at death in someone else’s eyes,
especially if we are close.

No deed is too much,
no deed that one could summon upon,
except the one that matters.
We can never turn back time;
If only.

To learn of severity and humility, to bow eyes,
to open palms, to give to unseen masters,
to speak with death,
“please delay, there’s other more luscious fish to fry.”
If only.

To speak of love, not aware of running tears,
to hold a frail hand, cold to the touch,
no sense of strength,
to gently caress it lest I break it,
please don’t hurt, don’t feel your pain,
I’m here, next to you.

My thoughts seemed all in vain,
I could not give you life, this precious life,
it turns out I was watching death collecting his dues,
collecting his precious prize.
Coveting this anguish, this pain.

original prose by Alex Teli

We spoke before you died and I am content that all was said. I miss you so much…

An angel free at last.

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How to overtake a light rail vehicle and remain sane doing it.

June 17th 2009 10:53

For all of you who live in Melbourne or who have lived in a city that uses light rail vehicles or TRAMS as part of its public transport infrastructure than you’ll empathise with this story. Hands up all of you that have had difficulty overtaking one of these monolithic Goliaths. Now I know I can’t see you so please don’t actually put your hands up! Oh, and yes I do know what monolithic means!
Anyway, trying to overtake one of these goliaths can, at times, be an exercise in futility. Now I know all of you are now saying, yea, I know exactly what he’s on about. WELL TO ALL OF YOU I’M SAYING BACK OFF THIS IS MY STORY!!!
Now that all that is clear, picture this, that very long tram is travelling about 40/55kmh in the centre carriage way of my very narrow road. I must overtake it on the inside lane; Just as I’m about half way into my overtaking manoeuvre it decides to stop and a passenger has already walked onto the road in front of me. Needless to say I want to run this idiot down but I don’t want the reckless driving and manslaughter charge that would inevitably accompany such an act.
So I stop! The very long tram stops! The doors of the very long tram open and the stop sign pops out! The danger pedestrian signs pop out! The pedestrians pop out! It is all organised and choreographed. In the meantime all I can think of is how to overtake this bloody tram.
Once it starts moving I’ll shove it in first, drop the clutch, plant the hammer and hold on for dear life. It should be straight forward, my power to weight ratio is much higher then the trams. I can and will do it.
So it all starts as planned, I go for it and I’m through. Yea, tram be gone I exorcise you from my view! It is indeed exhilarating if not childish and pathetically immature.
But I confess to both.
No sooner am I waiting for the green light to appear a little further down the road and you’ve guessed it, the bloody thing has caught up to me and I need to do it all over again.
Pity is me for my mind can not cope with such stresses….

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Pink elephants do fly and I think they too have been abducted!

June 11th 2009 03:28

Seeing that the title from my previous post had some effect I have only to continue in the same manner and I know that I will get there. Where I’m getting too is another story and I will, I promise to tell you, when I find out myself.
Yesterday I had an enlightening experience.
I saw a pink elephant fly!
Aghast I hear you say, an unholy sight if ever there was one. I reassure you I was not dreaming. (Was I hallucinating?) I asked the person sited next to me if she saw it flying jet like through the street, but for sure to be sure she did not.
There you go I must have been hallucinating for I was preoccupied with angry thoughts, therefore I was not concentrating and all that goes with the logic behind seeing is believing only if you were there to see it in the first place, and only if you were not harbouring angry thoughts at that particular moment whilst you were engaged in seeing. There!
You know my mind was floating somewhere, who knows where? If somewhere was ever a place it wanted to float in. All that said I was angry at the time about the aliens from my previous post; and as you would have it (you being the alien who is intelligent, can read, but does not leave comments) it became even more apparent to me because not only do the aliens pose as humans but now they are posing as flying pink elephants as well. HAVE YOU, EVER HAD A COMMENT POSTED TO YOU FROM A PINK ELEPHANT?
I am bewildered for I not know where this is all going, nor do I have any indication why, but I do know that I am saddened by the mere simple fact that I am writing this in the first place and not only am I writing it but I am uploading it for all the world to see.
Now I don’t know about you but I have feelings and I have pride!
Pink elephants indeed! Flying one’s at that!!
You see this all stems from my early childhood, when I was given a pink stuffed snail to play with. (Why would anyone do that is beyond me but at the age of three I settled for all that I could get. I mean there were no computers, no x-box, no nothing but stuffed pink snails.) That snail soon turned into a huge pink elephant for me and I distinctly remember pretending that it could fly as I tended to throw it up high as if it was flying. Now this early experience has indeed damaged my psyche and since I can not afford to visit a psychiatrist I am on orble talking to you about pink flying elephants that don’t leave comments on my blog.
This is getting interesting but I must stop here ‘till my next post…

see me flying

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Sex please and other Aliens that can read

June 8th 2009 07:09

So, since I’ve established in my mind from my previous blog that I now live on a planet full of aliens that can read, are intelligent, but leave no comments, I am heaps more relaxed. Well, let’s just say I am relaxed; not quite as relaxed as one that just woke up from a forty year coma to discover they have won the lottery and have not aged one bit, but a lot more relaxed than one who just ran over a family of ducks crossing the road whilst out on a Sunday afternoon walk as a family.
It’s becoming all too apparent and I am cross with myself for not having picked it up sooner, the signs were always there for anyone who wanted to see them.
The quick correction whilst making idle conversation, that slip of the tongue, (hopefully they can put it back again) that murmur under one’s breath, the Freudian faux pas. Little insignificant tell tale signs on their own, but, combine them all together with the information that I now posses and it all fits so elegantly together.
Pity really, aliens can be so boring without trying. You see now that I am convinced that you, the majority of readers that have frequented my blog on orble are all aliens I can conclude that you are also very boring, for the simple fact that you can read and you obviously do, but are so bored with your life albeit an alien one, that you do not, can not, will not, bring yourself to leave a well deserved comment.
I’m begging you, I’m imploring you, I am grovelling, please, PLEASE leave a comment on my site. Tell me that you hate this bloody blog, tell me that you love it, just tell me something. (whilst reading this passage try to read it with a mindless fear in your voice and desperate tears in your eyes.)
I do not think that I am asking too much. In fact I think that I am being damn civil about your inept boring manner. Do you really think that my life just revolves around you!
Well I’ve got news for you dearest undeserved reader, it does not!
QUATRO..

space is full of Aliens

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I can only conclude that only Aliens can read!

June 5th 2009 04:52

I can only conclude that only aliens read!

What do I have to do to get someone, anyone, to leave a comment?
I know people are visiting my posts, what I do not know is whether these people can read or not. I have to assume that they can, simply because I can see no practical reason why anyone would visit my post if they could not read. It makes no sense, I have little to no graphics and no links to any entertainment like games etc. so the only thing anyone would want to do whilst visiting my post is TO READ IT!

Having established beyond reasonable doubt that people visit my post to read then I logically must take the next step and ascertain that these so called readers have an opinion. It is reasonable to assume that a person who reads has at some articulate moment in their life formed an opinion; I mean they decided to visit my post and right there and then they had formulated an opinion to so. So far I do not believe that I am stretching the plausible logic. Well then, if people who can read and who also posses an opinion visit my post then, (and this requires a HUGE LEAP OF FAITH), I have to assume that these people are intelligent. (There I said it.)

Ok, are you following me so far? In summary people who visit my site can read, posses an opinion and are intelligent. It now stands to reason to assume that since these people are not leaving comments, then they are not really people at all!

Bingo, the penny drops, all is clear and I have my answer.

My post is being visited by aliens who in summary must be able to read, have an opinion and are presumably highly intelligent. It makes sense, these readers, are aliens from a world THAT DOES NOT LEAVE COMMENTS.

Well, I can only but conclude that by the sheer mathematics of a mean probability there may well be some humans who visit my post or I live on a planet where my immediate family and friends are the only non alien residents. That being the case PLEASE, IF ARE A HUMAN AND ARE READING THIS POST LEAVE A DAMN COMMENT, or I must assume that even though you think you know you really don’t!

I'm not an alien I'm a human being.

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A Confined Grim Economic Outlook

June 4th 2009 13:21

A Confined Grim Economic Outlook.

Tis but a simple inoffensive whim on my part! That’s all.
This is my idea of what I think is a confined grim economic outlook.
Try sitting on a barbarious cactuitus imploricus for a spot of light relief and I assure you that would indeed be grim and most certainly offensive. What pray then, is this sordid attitude from you, or maybe even exemplary, for how dare you, ask me, of all people about my impeccable education on things not of your understanding.

I said grim economic outlook and all you can focus on is the barbarious cactuitus imploricus. Well I’ve never been so affronted by one’s ineptitude and callous, vile and decrepit manner.
(NB when your read decrepit, please read it as de---cre----pitttt, with a strong emphasis on the pittt).
Now about that economic outlook; As far as I am concerned, we are tarnished and that’s all there is it to it.
A simple yet profound elementary assessment, do you not think so? An assessment of sorts that does not dilly dally but simply says it like it is. We are all serious and philosophical about the future and lets be assured that this is without a doubt a real barbarious cactuitus of the highest order.

The sub prime what?
How can a sub anything, bring the world to its venerable knees?
I thought subs were tinny things that floated under the water or if you so choose thingy’s we eat full of healthy stuff.
Mate, I am telling you, once and for all this economic crisis is up to our eyeballs; or if you care to phrase it another way, up to our barbarious cactuitus imploricus.
Now that is what I call a grim economic outlook.
It makes sense, some twit lent too much money to an even bigger twit that could not pay it back and then someone else decided there was a lot of profit in dealing with twits so they all did it. Sooner or later they ran out of money and brought all the money borrowers to their god loving knees. Then the proverbial snow ball effect started building up speed down a very steep sub prime mountain and it is still in free fall, there, I said it.
Simple, we’re all in deep excrement, or as I like to say we are all up the barbarious cactuitus imploricus without any thought about how the hell we’re all going to land safe and sound.
If it wasn’t so serious I’d cry, but I prefer instead to laugh. There seems to be a lot of twits around and the sad thing is they don’t even know it; that they’re twits that is.
Barbarious cactuitus imploricus, do you know what that means?
It means were in a deep bowel movement, do you get it?
Till next we meet have a laugh, have a really good laugh, if you dare..

A confined outlook

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An Onion is sitting on the top of my stairs

June 4th 2009 06:31

An onion is sitting on the top of my stairs!

Once upon a time there was a presence; it was a very big and a very raw onion, it was massive by onion standards. This particular day it decided that the time was right to roll down the stairs and over on the very plush red carpet, so it did. Heaven knows what it was doing upstairs in the first place. It rolled freely, in fact it bounced and it bruised, but mostly it bruised and smelled, like onions do so well. Now imagine that.
What if the moon was like a freshly peeled raw green onion, one gaze would surely bring a tear to your eye, two gazes would be instant red eyes and flood gates….Oh judgement day, thy will is harsh for what be thy life for it not love lorn and tempestuous amongst the glow of a moon so full; ‘tis, nay but whimsical, ‘tis sordid and dreadful for how doeth one praise love to a loved one if not by the light of a full moon.

Tears are not warranted on such an occasion of declaration and adulation tears make thy eyes red and thy soul confused. Assertions to make so bright, an onion is great in tomato concasse but has no future bouncing and bruising along carpeted stairs.
To conclude, one should not assume because a raw onion is round, white and strong it is like a luminous moon even though they can both bring tears to your eyes. Dare I sit on my red carpeted stairs to contemplate the days before onions?