Poetry is not my forte, but this poem by Frank Prem touched a nerve, a great big one. He calls it an angry poem. I call it truth. I resign too.
I have to introduce this poem a little, as some of the references have passed from active memory since 2002. I’ve popped in a few links if anyone would like some context.
This is an angry poem, and a distressed outburst. My country was in the throes of right wing conservatism, fear, cowardice, prejudice, injustice and much else that you will glean, should you read on.
Much has changed, but sadly, far too much has remained the same, only become more institutionalised, and in some cases (see Hanson below) come back for a second bite.
I’ve just re-read the piece and I’ve decided not to withdraw my resignation yet.
Language Warning. Please be aware before rewading that there are a couple of instances of PG language in this piece. As I said above, this is an angry poem.
are there no flowers in Australia?
well that cow Hanson was a passing…
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