Name: Dan Vallely
Country: Australia
Bio: Hi my name is Dan Vallely from Kincumber,N.S.W email
I'm married with two grown children and two grandchildren. I migrated from the U.K in 1966.
I'm a published childrens author with 12 best selling books and sales in excess of 600.000. After dabbling intermittently, I'm finally focusing on modernist verse.

Pink whipped cream dawn
              on the
              tooth pick harbour.
              An old mans clumsy dive
              spooks filament sprung water.
              I crush out my salt bitter
              cigarette, click twice and
              curse all squid assassins.
              A zephyr of westerly stirs
              float dive adrenalin.
              The sharp eyed wharf throws up
              a thumb print crooner,
              fist mouthed, so very
              Squawking of judas yellowtail,
              trawler greed and
              lemon butter saunas on
              armistice day.

              SPARROW SONG.

Cold steel excitement,
              the cowboy thrill.
              The big hand enfolds,
              guides my impatience.
              "Aim at the haw bush."
              I close one eye in the
              squint bright sun,
              heart deaffened.
              "Now squeeze."
              Sharp crack and recoil,
              a fluttering plunge.
              Tears blur worm reddened grass.
              Claws search and are still.
              The once bright eyes,
              glazed with my shame.


      FOX TRITE.
Sensory gob smack.
              A smug fox head on
              chicken legs,
              camphoric with
              gin undertones,
              backhands my mother.
              "Doesn't your son
              speak well for
              someone from
              his background."

     Everyone pushed him around,
             the eccentric switch hitter.
             Lover of Batehoven in the
             rocking fifties,
                         ba ba ba
             He claimed the music teacher
             molested him in his flat to
             the strains of Mozart.
             He fawned over exotic
             Trishna with the big tits,
             swore undying love until a
             pretty boy joined the class.
             Sport, a major source of
             villification,was an alien
             affront to his limp wrists.
             The sideburn mafia hung him
             naked over the schools water
             tank on his last day, got
             drunk and forgot about him.
             Individuality and culture
             spat in their dull brute
             faces and had to be punished.
             They'd be jailed today.


she was bone skinny
              no tits pale rat faced
              barrel scraper any port
              in a storm type where i
              was living at the time a
              female jack the ripper
              psycho slaying my ego
              with her land mine eyes
              lopping off my sad dick
              with her razor laugh
              although it was of no
              real use
              me or


   Shrek the hermit, what a hero.
           In his mountain refuge, celibate. Or did he
           trot down the hill for the odd bit of fleece?
           Evading autumn musters, sod ewe, I'm keeping
           it. Who said they were dumb. Put's a whole new
           perspective on sheep jokes.
           Put Benigo station on the map.
           The cage fighter carried him down like Jason,
           and just as golden if they milk it right.

           They all want a piece of him.
           The highlanders want him for the front row.
           Reckon he'll add brains to the pack.
           Scientists want to check him out.
           See how he ticks.
           Next thing they'll be electing him to
           Look out Helen Clark. Finally a candidate
           with balls and credibility.
           Not to mention charisma.

           Watch out for Shrek reading the news.
           Hosting breakfast.
           Shrek of the rings. Shrek cave tours.
           One thing's for sure, his chops are safe.
           He'll probably be listed on the stock
           Create a whole new term - Wether market.
           I wouldn't keep him though.
           It could lead to anarchy.
           Imagine in the future, millions of sheep
           hiding all over N.Z.
           It could bring the country to it's knees.
           On second thoughts, send him to Australia.
           You can finally get square for the underarm fiasco.
           Revenge is sweet.