I don’t go to church on Sundays - I go to media
The ugly anatomy of PNG’s university system, from one who knows

Worthy Alone

Wardley Barry at work
Wardley Barry


he's sweet and charming
his eyes left her powerless
among shoes and strings

he gives her new dreams
and furbishes her wishes
with baskets and rings

he takes her to his
house, his lip tastes like roses
and honey blended

he brings heaven to
her heart, hell to her head as
she lies on the bed

but the flame dies and
the music becomes madness
she packs up her clothes

in a little bag
and curses her promises
his words and their oaths

she goes to the bar
for a couple of glasses
of brandy and coke

and ends up quaffing
nine jugs when the bar closes
choking in the smoke

she passes out, wakes
up among honking buses
and screams for mama

there she gives birth to
a melanesian princess
without a papa

she's thirty-two now
her daughter's sixteen and has
a dozen boyfriends

she quickly learns she's
worthy alone and worthless
with child in her hands


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