Catfished

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There's a catfish in the Bayou 
Just a-waitin' to be caught
Squirming, wriggling, all to try you
'Catch me, it won't amount to nought!'

Now drop the line, it'll take the lure
Feel the tug, it is ready to reel
Delicious fish on the table for sure
Oh, all you are, is a slimy, old eel!

Your looks, your words, are so alluring
Online your beauty looks so real
I think our love could be enduring
Oh, all you are, is a slimy old eel!

So, do you really think I'm me?
Two can play this game, you'll see.


© Neil Dufty

The Cruise

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I was a virgin, no not even a river cruise, 
Untouched, it was my very first time, 
A cheap little one, how could I refuse? 
My mother assured me it will be fine. 

At the dock, the ship stood in all her splendour: 
Sleek lines, sheer beauty, nothing to phase her, 
Me in my Hawaiian shirt so ready to board
And then I read, her name was ‘Funtasia’. 

I boarded Funtasia with a sizeable throng: 
Young and old, small and tall, filled with glee, 
The nearby couple had broken into a song 
Then they muttered, 'not much is for free!' 

I found my room, a cabin with no view, 
Where was the food? I looked for the way, 
'Follow the crowd,’ suggested one of the ship’s crew,
Like to Mecca, all converged on a place called 'The Buffet’.

It was a feeding frenzy like gulls to a fry, 
I joined the jostle to be the first to the eat, 
I gorged myself on all that I could try 
For vegans, veggies, and those who like meat. 

Just as I finished the ship started swaying, 
The horizon moved; my gut sloshed around, 
Nausea took hold and I started praying, 
I yearned to return to feel solid ground. 

As I was retching, I felt a tap on my shoulder, 
'Son, you look poorly and kinda green 
Don't cave in, you just gotta be bolder 
You're obviously new to this cruisin' scene!’

Startled, I turned and in front was an old man: 
Wizened, bearded, wearing a captain's hat, 
Emblazoned on his shirt was 'I'm a Cruising Fan', 
On his forearm I noticed an anchor tatt.

'Are you the captain?’ I said holding back the puke, 
‘No son, but I have certainly earned this cap, 
My knowledge of the oceans is no fluke, 
I even have my own cruise advice app! 

‘Call me Salty Ole' Dog or SOD for short, 
I will give you some cruise advice for free: 
Choose your excursions wisely in every port, 
Go hard at the fun whilst you're out at sea. 

‘Mingle with other singles, whatever your persuasion, 
Karaoke, bingo, casinos, try them all, 
Dress up at night for whatever the occasion, 
With one or two drinks you will have a ball!’ 

‘Thank you, Captain SOD!’ my vomit subsided, 
He had vanished in front of my very eyes, 
I was so indebted for the advice he had provided, 
A cruise muse had changed me to my surprise. 

With that epiphany, I started my fun foray: 
‘Another drink,’ ‘More chips,’ ‘Spin the wheel,'
Day turned to night, the night into day, 
I tried my hand at trivia, Deal or No Deal.

My head started spinning, I was feeling faint, 
The ship was listing; water was coming in, 
Funtasia it was sinking; SOD was no saint! 
Engulfed in the water, circling round was a fin. 

'Sir, wake up, you are almost at the port.’ 
Opening my eyes a man resplendent in white,
'No, I am drowning,’ I then uttered my retort, 
'Sir, you had a nightmare, you had a big fright!’
 
I then staggered back to pack my belongings, 
Thought of Funtasia, advice of old mate SOD, 
What came over me was the weirdest of longings,
I felt accepted on this ship, was this so odd? 

Then as I was leaving, my heart it was heaving, 
To go home or stay cruising, how to choose? 
Funtasia was now home, this I was believing, 
So, staying on board, I booked a world cruise.

© Neil Dufty

Fried Beauty

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Glory be to God for all fried things -

For well-done patties full of whatever;
For savs encased in thick, crusted batter;
Oily fish and chips; chicken wings;
Chiko rolls – folded, aromatic, full of flavour;
And other beauties, how can they make you fatter?

All fried things crisp, ooey, gooey, strange;
Whatever raises cholesterol (who knows how?)
With ingredients that must keep you trim;
Let’s buy another scallop with the change:
Praise him.


(Author’s note: Apologies to Gerard Manley Hopkins for the take on ‘Pied Beauty’)


© Neil Dufty

Going Gaga in La La

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By Rapper Duff Daddy

Yo, yo all listen up to the Rapper Duff man,
See this dude he’s become a big Gaga fan,
To meet the Lady he thinks up a travel plan,
He gotta be sure she’s real - not a fake tran!

Plastic fantastic - who is this rock royalty?
Who’s behind the mask earning our loyalty?
Big hair, no care – her shock comes with ease,
She sings ‘I want your ugly, I want your disease’.

To find the truth he takes the bird OS to US,
Lands in LA – oh, his search could be useless,
Walks down the avenue where the big stars are,
Finds a print signed by none other than Gaga.

Yo, she’s gotta be close, he thinks, not far away,
Look for crowds, the papa - keeping them at bay,
Excited, the Duff thinks he can get a snap of her,
Become her dude-in-waiting, even her rapper!

So he asks an Elvis lookalike ‘is this Gaga land?’
The dude says ‘over there’ and holds out a hand,
It appears the Duff’s journey will reap its rewards,
He’ll find her in a place called ‘Madame Tussauds’.

Now the stars inside appear to be just a little funny,
But fans are attracted to them like flies to a dunny,
And in front is the Lady wearing her best poker face,
She appears to be shocked, stunned, or a little spaced.

The Duff shouts ‘I’m a rapper from way Down Under’, 
But Gaga stands unmoved like a tree circled by thunder,
And as he turns forlorn to walk out of the star show,
He spies one that looks better, called ‘Marilyn Monroe’.

© Neil Dufty

Day

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DAWN

first light.
inchoate purple rays
stipple across the blackened bay.
a pelican lands like a bomber returning from a night sortie.
light progresses with élan; mauves, pinks play across placid waters.
the golden orb finally rises above the misty shoreline: denouement of dawn.
		

cackling gulls wheel overhead en route to roost: harbinger of the dying day.
flaccid waters mirror crimson clouds in an effete light show;
the moon rises through mist like an ethereal spotlight;
wan sunlight pales to moon glow
signalling nightfall.
calm closure.

SUNSET

© Neil Dufty

Ch-ch-changes

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They came to our valley such a long time ago,
They decided they would not go with the flow,
Wore hair long, so little they bothered to hide,
We were farm folk with the short, back and side.

They were different for sure, we were in shock,
We were most irreverent, so ready to knock,
A gun and a frown sent them high on the range,
Good to get rid, they might give our pets mange.

High in them hills, that was not a life to lead,
Give ‘em a month, they’ll be wanting to leave,
Nothing up there would be possible to farm,
All they could do was to do themselves harm.

What they did up there it was difficult to know,
Practising free love, rations had to run low,
Us God-fearers couldn’t stand their polygamy,
Thought their cavorting would nurture a pygmy!

And down at our pub there were plenty of jokes,
About these sleepy hippies, these pill-popping folks,
One was about that show the ‘Beverly Hillbillies’,
We changed this calling them ‘Reverie Pillbillies’!

Like they were Amish, they seemed wary of us,
But not God, they preached the Age of Aquarius,
The years passed, seasons turned, turned, turned,
Then necessity caused us to go up there and learn.

Our school needed kids, was destined to close down,
We would lose our heart, this caused us to frown,
Where could we find kids? Time to go above,
So up we went to smoke the peace pipe of love.

So Sunflower, Raindrop, Dew enrolled in our school,
We soon found out that none of them was a fool,
And slowly their tribe wandered down the slope,
And we quickly learnt that we had been the dope.

Today our life bustles, we’ve turned up the temp,
Our district flourishes selling goods made of hemp,
Tourists from all over view this our finest hour,
And my daughter wed that guy called Sunflower!

© Neil Dufty 

All alone

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And there he sits alone
One of those lost souls
Life’s events ‘leeched’ from his mind 
Thoughts sucked dry 

Open up that gismo
Bring the old fellow’s Life to life
He had hair, a job, a wife
Went on holidays
Wrote poems

Bring me my stick
I need my stick...my memory stick!

© Neil Dufty 

A Sonnet about a Grommet

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A ‘grommet’ is a young surfer

I can see your tousled hair on a swirling sea,
As you scan the horizon for the next large set,
Your bronze sinews and board at the ready,
Hoping for no ‘drop-ins’ that make you fret. 

A broiling wave rises from the soapy mire,
And you’re off across it with perfect stance,
Like a trapeze artist on a bouncing wire,
You concentrate as if caught in a trance.

Though ‘Gnarly’, ‘Sick Man’, your skill records,
I prefer to ‘bus-drive’, all I think it takes,
On one of those Woolies special boogie boards,
Doing my tricks on the huge beach breaks. 

Now here comes a one-footer that could dump; 
Oh no, straight into the sand I go with a thump!

© Neil Dufty 

Mr Redback

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Male Redback Spiders attract the female by plucking her web and emitting chemicals. The female then devours ‘successful’ males during mating.

Your web I’d like to strum,
Like a harpist having fun,
Watch me roar, I’m all male,
My loving ways will not fail.

I’d like to tug your string,
Just before our fling,
Smell my sweet love potion,
C’mon do the locomotion!

A final tug of your rope,
Just before we grope,
We’re about to do the job,
Why do you open your gob?

Oh…it’s my first time to be bedded,
I’m feeling awfully light-headed!
Light-armed! Slightly shredded,
A little ball in a massive glove,
This is all-consuming love!

© Neil Dufty 

An Ode to the Cane Toad

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The Cane Toad is an introduced species that is causing devastation to wildlife in northern Australia

O flattened one, lying dried out on the road,
Like an ancient parchment on the pavement:
Testament to the much-maligned life of a toad.

So why are we so haughty about one so warty?
Why so pompous about one not blessed with looks?
So, what if you are not streamlined, just a little portly.

And those scientists who named you Bufo marinus;
What cruelty to infer that you are anything like a ‘Boof’!
Oh, some blasphemers even call you a ‘bag of pus’.

Now if you were called ‘frog’ you wouldn’t be in a pickle;
Even though slightly ugly, you’d still be in our favour;
So, what is in a name? How can we be so fickle?

And like all creatures great and small, there’s an inner life,
A shining light, a Prince or hopefully Princess within;
I might even pucker up for a kiss - if you were still alive.

And if you were alive, I might stroke you in my hands;
But I have heard you have a potent potion portent:
A little rub might activate those venomous glands.

Now, with respect, you are a most successful invader,
And how we have admired the invader throughout time;
You are the Genghis Khan of amphibians - even Darth Vader!

O tortured one, focus of jest, pranks and all that kind,
Target of swerving cars, alternative for golf balls; 
In those famous words: ‘How can people be so unkind?’

Ah, from afar, I hear a croak, no joke it is your toady mate;
All is not lost: To love or to loathe? That is the question.
Hey, this crap won’t stop us workin’ out its final fate!

© Neil Dufty