Revolution of the Public Service Needed

The current structure of the public service makes it incredibly ineffective to run. Two key problems include too much management, and labour unions that protect redundant workers. The public service is too slow. It’s norms way too old school. It is simply not dependable to lead the differences we need to see in the world

(in fact, it doesn’t even think it should lead, it looks to politicians (Of Course Minister) for that…public servants forget that ACTION needs leaders, and it’s the public service that should be depended on for action since that is its job….instead public servants do what their supervisors and deputy ministers tell them to do, cogs in an expensive corporate machine chug chug chugging along choking on its own exhaust of paper and meetings meetings meetings.)

The structure of decision making and implementation currently stalled at politicians and the pubic service should be totally replaced by citizens, through an online government.


How I ended up in Victoria

I had a contract in Uzbekistan and learned about people in a country whose state lines were drawn to purposely cut through tribal lines (Soviet divide and conquer strategy), and was the destination of exile for people spanning and bordering Soviet control. Long-settled tribes (such as Pashtun, Uzbek, Kirghiz, and Afghans) can be differentiated by colouful little hats men wear, folded up neatly and placed in pockets when praying in mosques.  Koreans sell kimchi in the open-air markets.  Russians serve perogies and dominate the political scene.  Persians remain settled in magical old cities on key stops of the silk road, where donkeys still transport spices to the market.  Chinese conduct business trips to complete gold and oil deals in hotel saunas.  Italians, Germans, Americans with Good Intentions do their best to infiltrate just a tiny bit, and then one by one get booted out when they succeed in knowing evil or shifting goodness too much in one of the few places in the world with steady decline in quality of life. One faction in the country is repulsive (worse than the drug lords who drive fancy cars with Afghan plates ): the government. Fear threads through all souls , as the government will zap any that point to its slime.

I learned (or decided) that when in a desert land where fear is the main tool of a dirty government, the best (or, er…the easiest) option (which most don’t have) is to run (RUN!) to its opposite — the Best Place On Earth.  Otherwise, just eat kimchi, wear your hat proudly, and who knows…maybe Twitter will bleach out the slime…

today’s bean place features a portal

the vibe in my place of work today is quiet, chill
people with things of import on their plate (you can tell by their demeanour).
the scene is lounge beats and comfy booths.
there is a wall-size photo of about 70 women
none smiling nor talking
meticulously diligently sorting coffee beans.

here i am
would be we if you were here
the seemingly or in reality
(take your pick)
chatting writing planning gazing from and into navels mine yours and others
smart phones on every table and for some reason everyone wears grey tones today
sipping coffee
its cost above average
about the daily wage of the women who sorted the beans (no i haven’t done my research in this particular case but i studied enough to have a Pretty Good idea and let’s be honest, one doesn’t need to study this to have this pretty good idea)

how do i feel about this reminder of me being served by these women, sitting here with my sweet leather boots and sexy silver air? if you were sitting here with me, and you might some day, how would it make you feel?

conflate time and space, turn the photo a portal.
walk thru it.
smell the humid stagnant air of the grey walled facility. choose a stool. sit down beside one of the women. she is about my age, perhaps younger
she’s wearing a hot pink tank top and a conservative beige skirt, shiny black hair pulled back with a blue clip, dangly earrings that maybe her mother gifted to mark a special occasion.
help her out. sort some beans–identify the bad looking ones and drop those into the steal bucket beside you, the good ones continue on the conveyor belt whirring along
hear the plinks around you, layered into the tinny radio pop music.
repeat. repeat. repeat.
do this for a few more hours.
how do you feel?
imagine the counterpart portal, if there were a large photo of us, sitting here, placed on the concrete wall where you hardly look because you’re focused on the bean sorting (just like the people on this side of the portal are focused on sorting out their bean issues)
what would be your commentary on them (that’s us)?

she’s done her shift and you float along with her…
on her way out picks up her faux leather purse and punches out.
see her walk down the street laden with stray dogs racing kids motorcycles squawking chickens. she stops for a sugar drink, sips the Real Thing thru a thin yellow straw, chats with the shopkeeper about the latest news (another corruption scandal and did you hear what the US is up to this time?)
then places the glass bottle in with the rest crosses the street and joins the bus queue.

board the bus with her. it’s packed with people and chickens, windows open so your hair wisps and weaves with hers, your touch connects with the two pressed on both sides of you, you’re sitting beside her, she has the window seat, she smells like baby powder and perfume and the man standing beside you shares his sweat and spice cover-up. he bumps into you on occasion while the overtaxed vehicle flies on the strip of highway the big important authority coordinated the building of with money you might have contributed to thru your taxes, and then slows to a bouncy meander thru the streets in the neighbourhood she calls home.

get off the bus, walk with her thru the maze of corrugated tin and little grey boxes and then close to destination
you see her kids run up to her, hugs and smiles.
she smiles. you smile.

and the portal folds into itself

back right here.

[this is what she contributes to. this is what i contribute to.]

no wifi in this joint, so bring your air stick. food is more than decent, coffee as mentioned, excellent. big windows on the other end of the photo.

i’ll work here again.

rating: 8.5/10 (more or less as meaningful a measure as those of the global conglomerate of bureaucrats i used to wish i worked for that excels in collecting comparing analyzing quantifying reporting on thru under and over and over
over over
bean bean bean counting).

the princess falls into the mirror and

somewhere thru the blurry wordy magnetic stretch of possibility

sees him there

and he sees her.

they talk sans words

they hear no sound.

(once a upon a time in fairy tale land, and how true that is really depends on your fae-dar and how much you want to race around your bare tigress tail)

heavy lattice soul shard flew thru a comet

tiny magic bore into soul of an indigo princess in waiting

trajectory from one deep red root in land of bigoteering slaughterers

hotness fighters on horses white freedom ideals

drew dew drop tears both red and clear

then, as cycles go, sad and guilt-ridden karma befell

(tho oh no say her [ant’s sisters] don’t talk about the dark shit except in songs and fairytales…and not of the roots either cuz those might be pagan cures)

cheered willow palms to donkey feet of iron fisted red idealists

and as irony has it thru the slam damn move around jam

their crew and lot became sighniks.

So, when she met the jedi prince from another land she did what comes naturally:

sighed.  Dragon deep breath in deep roar out cried.

A whynik from a different land he was

bronzed soul scape glittery shone

so imagine the story of sighs and whys…

whys responded with sighs and sighs with whys

round and round in sunglass cycles of me and you.

Absolve this, king!  Peace–it’s in your power beyond words of her apology.


Who is the king.



Further the princess falls

drops into dream where more will be revealed.  Join her there if you can’t help it and Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ .

tonight i speak soak spill words here where:

an almost winking stained glass jesus
fat cigar intercepting his two peace out fingers
exhales brain waves high low up and ebbing
flows enmeshed with some critically trained smarty hipster crew
(which we were/are…submerged now emerge, light from the lattice attained…).
sip your choice of coffee home-made chai beer.  bagels cream cheese mmm amongst the food on the menu (vegan raw storyline gap / opportunity oh yeah)
door open to both sun and moon shine thoughts, to round the perfect array of shadows
wifi decent, tho floppy on occasion (damn star down–save on cloud often)
two dudes converse about government planners ha
(faint temptation to inject tho in reality i don’t cuz i’m basking in their cupcake visions of idealism, real icing belief they have, pass me some sugar i’ll give you some bitter green)
a group ping pongs spectrum analyses of degrees to which their friend is Chinese (any answer, same respect)
another downstairs plays a strategy game, pretending, but by the shouts ya wouldn’t know it (playing and pretending grey line we live in)
oh yeah and beats bounce good, fits the crowd.
chill place.
rating 8/10

soup cajobbled melody

9(x.x)9 (;.;)9
hoi polloi ya consommé!
sewer skewer lure a mei!
( ´д)ヒソ(´Д`)ヒソ(Д` )
[dream by city sewer fay
flakey flapjack frenemei]
(~_^) (^_~) ~.^ ^.~
potage play touch synthepy
spinny chair a l@ckey bee
lunar whynik spoonery
lipid aristocracy
bowl of ley line scenery
spicy skewered barby pea
midnight love buffoonery
heart pure goo juice guarantee
horizontal upright tree
hewer newer goddess tea
norinoro k[no]w yeah key!

Along the way to freeing the princess my enemy got sewered and the king says I am to blame. What happened??

Words won’t give you the answer but here i go anyways
(addicted to them as i am
the dramatic stories they create
tribe’s circus drama that we are
another shot at some sort of answer
why not
this new moon brings good time for communication.)

key to outline.

So, for example say the context is such:

Once upon a time a jedi king wanted love in truth. Serendipitously (or not, the way these things go) he met
a freedom princess from another land who sought truth in love.
Two polar magnets slammed
‘sustainability’ both piqued their passions
so they texted each other back and forth and fell in love
puzzled together on how to make that lovely magic gently flowing into space
both a bit controlling one a lot no i won’t let you go home
together let go
tripped into quick sand cuz they couldn’t agree on the answer to this puzzle
slammed into reality world where blue marks broken items car chases lead to consequences…princess shared this truth with aims of survival, and according to the king this is the same as sewering.  So, let’s explore.

A key thing required for sustainability is:


define sewer:

An underground (subconscious)
for carrying off (disintegrating into the midst///converting into useable energy)
drainage (action or process mode…into alchemy mode we go)
water (symbols of water ultra obvious–purification etc)
and waste matter (crap one doesn’t want or need).

Did i send you thru a sewer slimy waterfall chute that we both jumped into together after you pointed and said look how beautiful?
(‘in that murky green reflection did they warn you of dissection?’)

As a verb what does this mean?
vote for what is now #2 sewered definition
in which case yeah we’re both in the dark well of a sewer for sure
sometimes i can’t find my shoes and sometimes i don’t know why i need them
do you think i have more light on my end of the channel? share some of yours i’ll share mine? tho with you there is always static on the end…
i have moonlight these days you in the sun even tho i know my sun hits your love at the soul level yours mine too

Am i a sewerer (seweress?) — spell check corrects it as ‘severer’
austere sometimes i am and sever relations i did…

Or, do you mean that i am a sewer like you are too
the conduit or perhaps i sewed pieces together the pieces that we tore apart?
When you held me eyes closed in dreams did we venture out on your magic carpet and did i want off the date and the only way to do that was to crash cuz you wouldn’t let me go until the end hit hoodie pulled you did that and carried me into the forest what did i do other than want to run?

In our dramatic underground purification process some of my helmeted armour broke, what about yours, is that what you’re referring to?

Either any which way with the what we could keep going metaphoricalizing thru words…is what you really still mean:


icicleland mystery
crystallized in what must have been another plane
layers frozen into what was now
by some cosmic blip in frequency

nothing else to say
so let’s be silent no contact touch you wanted weak kneed lie
unless you want to play with words
love me
within between beyond the lattice walls.

(If your question refers to how to get out of the sewer, which if anything you climbed or dropped pulled me along into as much as i sewered you whatever that means
if what you want from me is the public record on paper of this story as society looks at it burned removed then months is not enough…
yes i believe we are moving forwards towards a new system flake that i am you are too i know it
i’m one piece of the whole you the other along with reality around so yeah if i can affect US customs laws then i will ok but you know that there is paradise right where you are travelling and all this is becoming passé and if i could give you my passport it is no longer my most prized possession i would…put on a dress we’re almost the same person maybe it’d work and do you really want to work with kids that are more inside outside of your world in their own than even me?

tell me the truth: did i really ruin your life? and if so will more words unruin it?)