THE DESERT SWELL

Whispered on the wayward wind

In gnarly shades of tribal tongue

Emancipated triple-finned

And positively sickly sung

A message of the strangest kind

Inspired by the bird that flew

And painted in his dreamtime mind –

“THE SURF WAS UP AT ULURU”

A journey thus was under way

The boards were packed and what a sight!

Bovine-bleached and born to stray

Through saltbush tracks of waxed delight

Through swirling skies of aqua steel

The far horizon cast its spell

He commandeered his cockatiel

And rode towards the desert swell!

Endless carpet ochre tide

With flies the size of mackerel schools

Nothing though would break his stride

Not pointed bones nor graves of fools!

His caravan was cranking keenly

Sights he saw engraved his goal

With spirits dancing so serenely

Lord have mercy on his soul!

And then a stunning vision hailed

A kindred ghost of sun-blessed things

The scene to follow soon entailed

A paddle in the place of Kings

The canyon ripple rose in waves

They took that mighty massive stream!

Like men possessed through ancient caves

And then he woke - t’was all a dream…

His dream predicted folk would call

They soon appeared with tales to tell

Ken and Kel, then Steve and Paul

And mongrel had a crack as well!

The Titjakala mob – they came

Nomad riders tried and true

And everywhere, they said the same -

“THE SURF WAS UP AT ULURU!”

An eerie moment, deathly silent

Rolling dunes were in a trance

Thunder rumbled dark and violent

Turn around or take a chance?

Fear itself reclaimed his smile

As, on his board, he bobbed in black

Nothing moved for quite a while…

Then someone shouted ‘OUT THE BACK!’

First a raindrop – then a rumble

Red dirt tubes began to form

A bitchin’ break of rough and tumble!

Serving up an epic storm!

The monolith was pumping huge!

The cockatiel was cock-a-hoop

He slashed and carved the great deluge

A master of the desert soup!  

Stuck inside a wicked barrel

Everything was truly sweet

He thought that he was Tommy Carroll

No surrender! No retreat!

But Uluru – the spirit knows

Is fated with the final word

The serpent backwash slapped his nose

And wiped him out with true accord

Airborne in a sky so clear

He saw the desert’s dreamtime coral

Aussie grin from ear to ear

He now possessed the story’s moral

No matter what your craft or creed

To witness what this land can show

Is next to being truly freed

So take a risk… and let it flow!

Rupert McCall