My White Trash Heaven


Not for me the comfort of

some superannuated scheme,

a Yuppy’s mortgaged youth to pay the price

for a privileged place in a Retirement Village

with a residential theme.


my Dream is to become a Beach Bum,

and let the layers of Ambition peel off me

like old paint in the Sun.

I’ll watch my Work-Ethic corroded by the Sea Air

as I rusticate in a lean-to shack

made of salt and driftwood.

All the windows will be made

out of gin bottles,

and I’ll have an old AM radio

and a Black & White TV

jammed on Channel 2

for company. I’ll let Goannas browse

in my midden heap and a big carpet snake

will take to drowsing in the rafters

whenever he’s digesting rats.

And I’ll only go into town on Cheque Days

while I leave a couple of mongrel dogs

who don’t like strangers sleeping

in the dust out the front,

in the shade of a big Mango tree.


Periodically, of course, someone will complain

about me and my White Trash Heaven

(it’s the Way of the World)

and Council Officials and Social-Work

Professionals pretending to care

will parachute in like stormtroopers,

keen to rebuke or remonstrate or reason with me.

I’ll just smile slow and stupid and nod vaguely

like maybe I understand or

maybe I just have brain damage.

(I’ll be like that Landlord I had,

who lost his ability to speak the English language

whenever Fire Dept. officials came around

to try to get him to install smoke detectors*)


In the end I’ll probably smile

and pretend to agree,

but really I’ll just be stalling

till they go and I can get back to my Life,

content in the knowledge I’ll have the Last Laugh,

because, by the time they can get

all my fine legal sand-grit out of their gears

and get the Bureaucratic Wheels a’grinding,

I’ll be long dead.


Fooled them one last time.



* Yes, I learnt a lot about dealing with petty officialdom

from watching my Landlord, old Ricardo, at work.

Of course, he never did fix that big hole in my ceiling but on the plus side he never complained about the constant clouds of cannabis

billowing from every flat in the building either.





The Late Reverend Hellfire

is chronically, chronologically challenged

and surely a Man out of his Time

if not his Depth.



~ by reverendhellfire on January 30, 2017.

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