my family came, my family came, from kastellorizo
been living in the land of oz, for eighty years or so
they called them refst they called them wogs, they called them so and so's
but they survived, the racist jibes, for eighty years you know.
now my papou, he's ninety-two, he watched the family grow
it grew and grew, and grew and grew,
the greeks like sex you know.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, the land of oz, for eighty years or so.
from fish and chips, and steak and eggs,
they built their family homes
on good australian soil they built, they helped australia grow
and in their homes, their souvenirs, from kastellorizo
the hallowed map, the harbour view, the painted plates on show
and photographs, old photographs, that told a tale of woe
of poverty, and tyranny, under the bed they go!
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living with, the memories, for eighty years or so.
their children grew, they went to school, they learnt the aussie ways
they changed their clothes, they changed their talk, they even changed their names
but in the house, the parents taught,
that cazzies they will stay
a cazzie born, a cazzie be, until their dying day
'cos everything that's greek is good,
it's always been that way
and cazzies are, the best of all, my old yiayia would say.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, a time-warp zone, for eighty years or so.
at weddings and, at christenings, they'd sing the cazzie songs
we did the cazzie dances, and we all would sing along
and all the stories, you would hear, about this grecian isle
would put it on, a pedestal, a faultless pure lifestyle
but reality, as time goes by, gets twisted, warped and changed
and the longer, they had been here, the bigger the myth became.
my family came, the cazzies came, from kastellorizo
been living in, the past too long, for eighty years or so.
the myth of kastellorizo, so good, so greek, so great
to live by myth, in a changing world, simply does not equate
'cos no man can, an island be, the proverb wisely states
and progress never comes to those, to those who sit and wait
and so we see, the culture clash, worship of myth creates
you can't live in, another time, another mental state.
my family came, my family stayed, in kastellorizo
been living with the myth too long, for eighty years or so
the cazzies came, the cazzies stayed, in kastellorizo
they left reality behind, some eighty years ago!

granny's big pink underpants

granny's big pink underpants
is what i think of
when they ask me to go back to my earliest memories.
me under her warm black dress
next to her big pink underpants
elastic round the edges
left railroads across her soft white/pink skin
skin that smelt so sweet so,
so soft to touch
Iying for hours
cuddling closely
to granny's big pink underpants.

superwog
look! up in the sky.
it's a bird. it's a plane.
no . . . it's SUPERWOG.
strange visitor from a european country
with powers and abilities far beyond those of normal anglo-saxons.
who can gut and fillet mighty man-eaters
pick up hot dim-sims in his bare hands.
faster than a squirt of vinegar,
more powerful than tsatsiki,
able to use the lifts in tall buildings.
and who,
disguised as con pappas,
mild mannered fish monger at a great metropolitan shopping complex
fights a never ending battle against
macdonalds,
kentucky fried chicken,
and the american take away.

the tanks rolled through the streetsthe tanks rolled through the streets, i was worrying about guest lists,the crowds that gathered outside were all dispersed, the bridesmaids' dresses were white with red stripes,those who remained,inside the polytechnic,were hungry, were cold and needing inspiration, the bombonieres were our design, with matching placecards, and invitations,for three days they were calling for,bread,educationand freedom,they were singing 'pote tha yine xastouria',they screamed down with the hunta,down with papadopoulos,out with american bases,they broadcast messages to the nation,urging people to support them,to defy the curfew, to take to the streets, we married at st. constantines and helens, photos, in the alexandra gardens and then the reception, they served, a seafood cocktail, a crumbed whiting entree, and a choice of chicken or beef, we presented our speeches, did our dances, and had bomb alaska for sweets. the tanks rolled into athens on the third night, they all said the bride looked lovely in white, the students were going to be taught a lesson, we were carried at the head of the wedding procession, they stormed the buildings, broke through the gates, armour firing, in the dark of night, students screaming, taking flight, not many remained, not many survived, the protest was over, their blood had been shed. we were driven to the hotel booked into the bridal suite, opened the champagne, our wedding night we now had a licence, everything was alright, only we had remained, we turned out the light, the virgin's blood, had stained the bed,the massacre in 1973 heralded the end of a military dictatorship in Greecethe marriage in l973 heralded the beginning of a new one in kew, chile, el salvador, poland, afghanistan, the phillipines, end all dictatorial regimes, mt. waverley, sunshine, prahran, abbotsford, and preston, end all dictatorial regimes.