It_is_the_Darkness wrote on May 22
nd, 2011 at 11:06am:
Most of the Cities, especially Sydney & Melbourne are becoming 'White' or Anglo minority ...but then again, who would bother to live in such dumps (Prisons)?
We all know Asians are most at Home in Cities, they even have 'China-Towns' within them just to prove the point over any other race. All happy little yellow
Citi-Zens 
...as for your Poem Soren. Really good (again). Kinda sums up Australia's "Political" future though. Even now the Cops are fighting a loosing battle against the Alcohol that THEY introduced to the country 200 years ago. James Squire anyone?
Lucky the Australian
Art Industry (The Modern/Computer orientated, not the Celebrity/Televisual/Traditional "Arty-Farty" Archibald/Black Skivy type) is becoming our leading Industry and is being recognised as such by the International Community.
by Pablo Neruda
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your nipples are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life. (beat that!. ed.)
But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.
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