Pack-rape not pre-meditated?

Does judgement

reflect the culture

of our community?

The Honourable Justice

An appeal to Justice

How do you judge young “respectable” high achievers with jobs and future prospects?

Does commercial law give a good background for judging cases involving sex offenders?

Is hitting someone worth greater punishment than raping someone?


Does judgement

reflect the culture

of our community?


Who is teaching this culture?

Restorative Justice

This is a concept that very much appeals to me.

Morning thoughts on psychopaths, as you do…

I was thinking in poem form, about psychopaths as I woke this morning (as you do), and this is what I scribbled down as the words bulged to a mass which threatened to overload available memory, of which I have little.

All psychopathic serial killers
                          slip up
And it's their silly mistakes
              that catch them out
Charm and deceit wear thin
          they become transparent
And the honest truth shines through

The one who conquers them
    does so with Love
And he sees them brought low

Eternal justice prevails.


My name is Wisdom.

I am my mother’s son.

Too many stole my name

treated it with contempt

discarded it with savage grins

Now I wear it in pain.

My name is Horror

I am closer than your skin

My home is the cage your heart is trapped within

I am tended to by psychopaths

whose gilded tongues beguile

those who keep on choosing

to believe in all their lies.

My name is Shame

I am your name.

Your name is Honour

You have dug out from your grave

Faced the sunlight

With eyes pure and bright

Exposing grim remains

The evidence before the Court

kills off laughter

murders jest

Horror, Shame and Indifference

are sorely put to the test.

Wisdom stands to the side

Weighing up the case in hand

Grinners and beguilers

are hatefully held in contempt

as the scales tip the balance

and pain slips to the other side.


delicate… balance

incomprehensible complexity

in every grain of sand

every subtle breath of wind

through every fleeting, lucid moment.


It’s DIRT-y


TreaD it DOWN.

Pierce it, Flag it

Mark it as Owned-



balance upturned

scales of justice



for the blood lost

for the innocent

for the pure





will see

the balance



Precious jewel in the sky

our earth turns

in time



and then

They are gone.



a miracle sigh


Defending home and family

Thieves line the streets

and eye up my home

breaking it


spilling out

the treasure






in the house next door





My neighbour



A gentle soul

Bars her windows

and walks her hallways at night

Armed with a large axe.


Peaceful am I

yet today

I take sharp saw

and sever the limbs

of our feijoa tree

as a warrior

inflicting a blow

against the enemy


Frenzied sweaty minutes


Deep entrenchment

filled with deadly spears

Awaits with weapons

held ready


The nurturing fruit tree

defends our home.


Next year brings little fruit

as the scars heal.


This poem grew from thoughts of how instinct takes over, when a parent comes face-to-face with the threat of harm to her children.   I patrolled my perimeter, and kept the night watch.  I ran to shoot the intruding gang, storming up and along a stone wall to confront them.  With a camera.  I don’t own a gun.

Certain circumstances draw out my fighting spirit.  And war-cry.  “Clear Off!!”

I felt regret at my lethal spikes when I saw these were children.  A bunch of bedraggled kids with no-one there to care.

Shocked children’s faces staring in blank incomprehension from their thick skewers, lined the perimeter of my imagination.  And the next day I spent the massive effort of untangling my trench and laying my weapons flat.  Next winter they warmed my home with flickering fire in the hearth.  My babies and I slept in the lounge.  With no curtains to hide us from our neighbour on night prowl with her axe.

We don’t live there no more.

The adult minds behind the repeated burglaries sent children as stool pigeons to do their dirty work.

Pretty well this is the way I view war.  Bloodied fragments of children everywhere.

If I were to kill a marauding man-eating dragon, would I send destruction upon him while he is holding eleventy-million children hostage as a twisted-sickening ‘armour’ around his scaly body?  The screams of those children receiving the force of my wrath would torture my mind and my soul.  While the dragon grins and wraps another cloak of blood around his stinking body.

His time will come.  And it is almost here.

King of Happiness, the True Knight

This one is for Opinionated Man in reply to his poem of knights and dragons… (

King of Happiness
Desires Fruition

Lords over the world

Astride mountains of gold
He murderously stole
From the True Knight’s Master

The world bows down
Offers flesh and crown
for coveted dragon delights

The jaws of a trap
In wicked grin
snap shut
as another falls in.

Many Bold Knights
don armour to fight
as if the gold were their own

Cold green eyes
burn hate and rage
as True Knight falls away

Leaving cold-hearted glory
and Fortuitous story
and a dragon he battled today

His Master knows
The Life Span
of a Dragon

How quickly he is slain
and eaten by fiery flame

No revenge remains
The King has seen his Justice.


Your MaJesty, the jester’s tears will be tears of joy.

Adding the audio of The Jester Cries…  (Copyright The Opinionated Man, all rights reserved.)


My head is spinning

with thoughts of Unity



and Right


The hurricane hurls horror

and discovers Unity

in the homeless hordes


So next time,

it targets

Just One.


Terrorizing and tearing to pieces

Only one witness

And the evidence swept away

in a tunnel of destruction

winding up through the air

to rain down over the vast deep sea

where there is no justice


Just One


with no-one to tell.


Where is Unity?

I search the Oceans

To look for mine.