This poem contains some profanity and adult themes. Additionally, a video of the poem being read aloud can be found here: http://youtu.be/rbmlxhJHwHQ
You may be the minister of our country,
but I never had you elected, and you are
no leader of mine, and I would have wasted
my time if I thought you would ever listen
to my concerns. Therefore, this is not
addressed to you, but I would not mind
if you spared me a moment, as the Liberal
weed killer withers the fields
of social tulips, tarnished by the hands
of economic persecution.
Rather than wielding your words
of political propaganda like an artist
with a brush, you wield them like a son
who has found his father’s gun,
blowing holes through the hearts
of all Australian citizens. Tell me,
as tax exempt politicians shrink
the pocket money of the people until
it becomes gaunt and feeble,
should you privatise water
to solve the crisis of debt that is almost
non-existent, when in contrast
to countries across the ocean’s divide?
Speaking of, are there 457 reasons
as to why you give jobs away
like leaflets on the street to supposedly
skilled migrants, educated half a world away
with no knowledge on our creed or culture,
yet deny us, Australia’s children,
economical aid when these jobs are unavailable?
In doing everything to hinder families for life,
whilst helping ensure the rich are unimpeded,
you help illustrate that all one needs
to be a minister is the willingness
to tax the poor and deprive them
of government aid; commit cultural
genocide, homophobia and misogyny,
and return us all to the age of the aristocrats,
when only the rich were educated,
and the poor remained forever in their slums.
All this from a man who accused the previous
government of lying, and proceeded
to do away with all of his promises
before the year was over; all this,
from a man who would laugh
in the face of sex workers with seamen stained
lips, and the taste of cheating husbands
dripping upon the every word that falls
from between their teeth; all this
from a man who thinks turning
back boats, and almost starting
an international incident in the process,
makes up for all the families in Australia
that shall go hungry tonight.
Wrapped up in the hangman’s noose,
and meant to march to the music
like a toy soldier, I recall a stranger
having once asked is this your country,
for it is drowning in deficit. Is this your country
probed another, for it is buried
beneath a behemoth of lies. Is this your country
questioned someone else, for it is blind
to the pains of the struggling
and the poor. Is this your country
another citizen asked, for interlopers
and shameful stigmas still exist – when shall
we right the wrongs and cast down
the barricades binding us to poverty? What
answer should I give to those struggling beneath
your reign? Is rape even a crime to a man
who rapes the country blind?
Moreover, did your daughter happen to drop your name
before being granted an education, bought
and paid for, without consent, by the taxpayer?
I am the child of the prime minister perhaps?
A threat, much like a mother telling
her disobedient spawn wait till your father
gets home, and suddenly, those unwilling
to cooperate find themselves flung
out of offices for failing to abide
by the corporate standard; the Abbott’s
get what they want, and all the rest
are fucked over. And so, the tax payer
paid for your daughter’s education,
and now you’ll probably knight her too,
and if my name were Abbott, would I be entitled
to the same? Of course, if she were gay
you would have her disowned, right?
Made an example of; erected a statue
in the middle of the city of you marching
her towards the metaphorical guillotine
in you red budgie smugglers?
On second thoughts, I hardly think I want
an answer when I know it shall
be burdened beneath the arrogance
of pompous, egotistical revolt, from
a man and all his friends who dress
in thousand dollar suits and dresses,
whilst the people strive to buy a loaf
of bread. Here, allow me to give to you
my severed penis, for I want no
children of mine born into your
fucking cut throat regime.
SYNOPSIS: A romance between a stereotypically average man who has been captured by the love and beauty of a woman who not only possesses Heavenly qualities, but who is seeking to gain a throne within the realm of Hollywood and performance arts.
Last night I saw her face
as I tried to breathe.
She’d made her way to Hollywood
and then to the above.
I glanced her in the common place
wearing a top with golden sleeves,
it was then I wished I could
be her one true love.
There’s a halo above her head,
her name I cannot tell.
She’s won the award
for most beautiful,
which to me’s so sadly said,
her love I can never afford.
I then realised my dream was real,
seeing her reach Broadway.
She wore a silver dress
with flowers speckled in her hair.
Her skin I’d love to feel
on this sunny Summer’s day.
Her hair’s never in a mess
and what I feel isn’t fair.
There’s a halo above her head,
her name I cannot tell.
She’s won the award
for most beautiful,
which to me’s so sadly said,
her love I can never afford.
SYNOPSIS: A political poem aimed specifically at the Australian Prime Minister
Dear Madam Australian Prime Minister
there are some answers I wish for you to administer
in regards to the questions I have for you.
I have the time, and I certainly hope you have some too
to explain away the actions that you have made this year already and in the past,
and to give me the necessary closure, with the longevity to last.
I want to know why you have made so many changes, political and otherwise. I hope I haven’t alarmed you, nor startled you suddenly with a surprise,
because since I love this sun burnt and ruggedly beautiful country with an intense passion and I live inside her too,
I would like to know the reasons behind many of the changes that have been deliberately orchestrated by you.
Do you believe friendship can exist in the political arena? Do you think your predecessor did at one time?
That is of course before you assassinated him in a way that can only be described as outrageously sublime.
Now with your power reasserted, do you finally believe you have full control?
Do you moreover believe when the next election comes you will decimate the opposition at the polls?
Do you think your cabinet respects you? Do you think the Australian public will?
You have made some extraordinarily disastrous betrayals, which, although powerful are horrific still,
for instance, the carbon tax, which was not supposed to be instigated, or so I hear;
might I ask, is this the end of some massively alarming changes, or just the tip of the political spear?
I would like to know, Madam Australian Prime Minister, in you can we all find trust?
And you might reply ‘well, I am the leader of this great country, so I do suppose you inevitably must.’
Moreover, Madam Prime Minister, how are you adjusting to the life that is political fame?
Do you like that some people wave at you, some shake their heads, and people who didn’t know you now know your name?
Might I ask, how is this on you family? Do they respect each and every one of your decisions?
How will it be for them if this country suddenly falls into chaos or even total recession?
I guess this is one of the more major points I wish to stress; when you make decisions for the people, do you think of your family too?
Is there any available room in this political poem for them as well, or do you wish for me to solely aim all of my questions at you?
Furthermore, do you feel you are developing a paradise? A Garden of Eden? A stereotypical image of Heaven?
Do you think anyone agrees with you? Why don’t we ask leader of the Opposition Tony Abbot, or why not former Prime Minister Rudd, Kevin?
Moreover, some of your opponents have implied that you are some kind of devil,
whilst many of your supporters revere you for being some kind of savior; a heroine; a blessed angel.
Might you please state to me, in your own words, how you would honestly describe yourself?
Are you an honest, decent hardworking woman? Are you secured economically with a good amount of wealth?
It’s just that every year you seem to give yourself another substantial raise,
and journalists and reporters alike explain how you deserve it, along with all our praise.
I just can’t imagine how someone can be worth so much economically.
I mean, what is this? It’s not like the government is in need of a surplus of charity!
Do you provide yourself with every dollar you believe that you deserve? Is several hundred thousand dollars what you believe yourself to be worth?
At the same time on the streets there are people in need of this money, often from the moment of their birth.
This system is a lot like a monarchy, and since I was not born into such luxurious accommodations, I do not get anything.
My friend asks me ‘how much do you think the PM will make this year?’ and I reply, ‘how long’s a piece of string?’
Now, I ain’t asking you to confess all your secrets, but if allowed, which ones could you tell?
Would you reassure me this country is stable, and that we aren’t bound for Hell?
Would you reassure me that you are the one political leader this country truly needs?
Would you truly lay down your life for her? Would you sweat? Would you cry? Would you bleed
until there was nothing else you could honestly do to make this country any more beautiful?
Are you planning for a good many changes ahead for Australia, or are you planning for something really dreadful?
Would you reassure me that everything you have orchestrated is going according to plan?
Would you say to me ‘Derek, I am this country’s only hope. If I cannot do this, I assure you, nobody else can.’
Moreover, what about same sex marriage, or is this a topic for another day?
Would you be more open on the subject if your partner’s daughter were gay?
Do you not believe people should be given the option to love whoever they wish?
Do you not believe lovers should seal their bond with a lovers kiss?
On another note, why is it that all asylum seekers appear to get more rights than what I or anyone else would ever receive?
Why is it they can do almost anything, but I’m not allowed to do what I want to achieve?
Why was the job I recently applied for given to somebody who only just arrived in this country, and who is new to this state?
Is this the new definition of ‘fair’, or am I to always be the Australian too late?
Why does it seem you do not care for people, such as myself, whose family has lived in this country for more than eight generations?
Why does it seem you care more for people who are not even legitimate Australian citizens?
You adjunctively help other countries who are in need, but if the shoe was on the other foot, would they ever help us in return?
I don’t think they ever would. In fact, if this country were on fire, I think they would rather watch us burn.
I realise in the past you have expressed how it is our cultural diversity that makes our country so great,
but did you ever believe that it could breed animosity, fear, paranoia, and even provide the people of this nation with reasons to hate?
There are so many people who cannot marry the ones they love because of the differences in cultural backgrounds.
It is moreover taxing that nobody listens when I complain, but the government drops everything the second an asylum seeker makes a sound.
Furthermore, why is it when Australians are called ‘racists’ you do not hit back and say ‘that’s an outrageous lie’?
If we are such racists, why do we have so many soldiers overseas fighting for peace and prosperity who are doomed to die?
If we are such racists, why does a loving husband with two young children go to stop a war that is not his fight?
Why does his wife, ten months later, if we are such racists, need to explain to her children that daddy won’t be coming home tonight?
If we are such racists, why do we send our heroes to fight beside our American brothers on the front lines?
Why are our brave men and women of the Australian forces dying overseas from bullets, shrapnel and land mines?
I ask you, how many terrorist attacks have been stopped on beloved Australian soil over the past five years?
If we are such racists, who are these extremists who wished to kill thousands of people and leave their families in tears?
Why do you persist the continuation of a war we obviously do not belong in?
Do you feel the deaths of our men and women are on your head? Do you feel the blood of the armed forces running across your skin?
Why do you follow the American President and almost everything he chooses to do?
I never did realise we were the fifty first state of America; instead, I believed our Prime Minister was you.
Do you ask God for His forgiveness, for His solace, for His love before you go to sleep?
Any promises you make in regards to the questions I have asked of you will you forever and always keep?
Honestly, if you could guarantee our future and promise that our lives, you could protect,
you are the one politician, Madam Australian Prime Minister, I would only too gladly reelect.
On another note, what about the growing problems concerning the emergency services?
Can you assure me you could do something about reducing the time it takes for the arrival of ambulances?
What about the underpaid workers and the lacking number of staff maintaining our hospitals?
In regards to this question, before you fathom an appropriate response, do you really have a good rebuttal?
And what about the underperformances of students and teachers at our local schools?
Should students not sparkle with intellect within the classroom like radiant jewels?
In your plans for the future of our country, do any of them concern education?
If the children are our future I feel terrible for the next generation,
who will be unable to read, unable to write and unable to perform basic arithmetic.
Is it just me, or is stupidity becoming a nationwide pandemic?
Do you have a cure? Do you have a plan? Or do you plan to simply watch the problem escalate and grow?
If you want Australians to vote for you I believe you need to let them know
that you care for their concerns, for their children and for the future of this great country.
However, this Q&A of ours, it could never actually happen in reality.
I hope you are not Prime Minister for the power, but the responsibility.
Perhaps there might come a day when you could take the time to answer a question or two for me.
The opinion I have of this country’s government moreover has been jaded and I don’t think it’s that good.
If I’m not the only one believing this, then change is mandatory, and if you can do so, I believe you should.
Until then however I shall wish you luck because I believe you are going to need it in the future.
Disappointment is a terribly ugly disease and I hope you will someday become our one necessary cure.
SYNOPSIS: Jimmy, a student attempting to do a research project on the mysterious town of Gransnapia discovers a story about a statue of a man that is placed on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and why he will never leave.
Jimmy rode timidly upon his bike, the immaculate town of Gransnapia located around the bend, the entire town looking considerably bleak and dark, a shadow of its former self. He had never been present during its glory days, but had heard stories of its brilliance, which is why he had decided to do his assignment on the town. The teacher requested they write on something fantastical, and this was it. Jimmy however never imagined the town would be so frightening to behold, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he rode into town. A dense cover of fog emerged from the confines of small broken town houses and spiraled around him like ghosts, eager to accept him as one of their own.
Jimmy began to feel his decision to come was a mistake, slowly turning his bike around before slipping to the ground, gravel digging into his skin, the fog appearing to laugh at his own inconvenience. Making his way to his feet, Jimmy noticed an old man standing a few metres away, his clothes ragged and dirty. The man turned his head to look directly at him, causing a shudder to crawl along Jimmy’s spine. Taking a deep breath, Jimmy summoned all the courage he could muster before asking ‘do you know any interesting stories about this town mister?’
‘Depends’ stated the man, taking a step forward. ‘Do you want to hear a story’ he asked, ‘or do you want to hear a story?’
‘Which one is which?’ asked Jimmy.
‘The latter is far more fanciful’ stated the old man. He pointed up at a statue of a man placed atop of a cliff edge overlooking the entire town. The statue appeared sad and alone, the body posture signaling the man had lost something significantly dear to him, his head bowed in a silence that could never be broken. ‘I can tell you a story about the man that can’t be moved and the story of his Juliette for all eternity’ he said, before beginning to tell the tale.
The town of Gransnapia was traditionally inviting. Bright and beautiful, lights flourished across the city at night making the small civilisation stand out like a beacon. However, what Gransnapia was most famous for, were its apples. Gransnapian apples were sold for twelve dollars per kilogram, visualised as one of the most succulent and addictive forms of fruit ever conceived. This world renowned delight was what made the town so famous, comprised of many wealthy industrialists who had made a living of extravagance and luxury for themselves.
However, nobody ever distinguished the true nature of the townsfolk. They were, each of them pretentious, egotistical and presumptuous, having a great amount of prejudice towards outsiders. If they were not a part of their society then they were simply seen as misfits, the scum of the Earth whom they believed needed to be swept clean.
The townsfolk wore luxurious and exquisite outfits, dining at the only restaurants they had ever known, incredible arenas which were crafted specifically for the kings and queens of industry.
This behaviour was clearly represented the day the new shipments of parts for their hydro-electric dam were sent over by ship from the far side of Australia. The vessel was black in colour, looking like a beast on the horizon as it docked in port. The gargantuan containers were removed from the ship, and in addition there was one passenger. Nathaniel Buck was his name. His costume certainly wasn’t extravagant, appearing dirty and ragged from his trip at sea, his face unwashed and covered in hair. The townsfolk looked down at him as though he was a weed, one which needed to be destroyed quickly before any harm could be done to their Garden of Eden.
Nathaniel immediately had trouble attempting to be accommodated into a room at the local hotel, and the next morning found it even more trying when nobody wished to offer him a job, instantly being deported to the docks to ensure the area would be kept immaculate.
Whilst working there however, he couldn’t help but notice the comings and goings of an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. Virginia Copperfield was her name, daughter of Harvey, one of three men who had founded the Gransnapian apple trade. Her blonde hair flew out behind her as she rolled by in a luxurious gold trimmed carriage, her attire being a blossoming gown made from the finest silk imaginable.
Nathaniel was told by fellow workers he was crazy for having any romanticised thoughts over such a person. But the dock master liked the work that Nathaniel had accomplished, providing him with a larger economical cash flow, and as he built up his savings, Nathaniel made himself more presentable.
Even after Nathaniel had dined with the best of the town however they still failed to provide him with any respect, especially Harvey, who had noticed the stranger looking at his daughter on countless occasions. He needn’t have worried however. The stranger was never able to sum up the courage to communicate to such an attractive young woman, believing, like the town did, that he was a creature no woman of such brilliance could ever have feelings for.
One night after watching an adventurous piece of dramatic art about a couple of travelers and their escapades, Nathaniel had actually met Virginia in the booth above the stage whilst he was making his way towards the exit. The both of them had stopped what they had been previously doing and looked at one another for a second. Nathaniel had attempted to form words, but had ultimately failed, instead, tipping his hat in the presence of the beautiful young woman and departing from sight.
Although he was still disliked by the locals, Nathaniel did indeed begin to have additional occupations opened to him. Through these he was able to pull off many endeavours the entrepreneurs wished to have accomplished, from moving something from one place to another, to helping to advertise for bigger business. The most attractive feature of such occupational occurrences was the payment, which added to the luxurious lifestyle Nathaniel wished to concoct for himself. He had come to believe such wealth would make him appear to be quite the gentlemen in the eyes of Virginia, nothing apart from his self esteem been able to stop him from achieving his dream of finally being able to ask her to spend an evening with him.
When Nathaniel realised Virginia was being sent by ship to Europe a couple of weeks later under the machinations of her father he felt his entire body begin to shut down in grief. As the luxuriously gargantuan vessel pulled out from the harbour, Nathaniel stood atop of a cliff edge overlooking the vast ocean, and for a moment, just one, he could have sworn he noticed Virginia look up at him. It was almost as though she too had wanted him to approach all this time, and in one split second all opportunities were vanquished.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months, and months inevitably turned to years as Nathaniel continued to wait on the cliff edge for his beloved to return, to tell her exactly how he felt and pray he was not too late to be with her for all eternity.
But never did the ship return. Nathaniel continued to wait after the ship and all of its crew were reported missing, and after a period of seven long years the constant brutality of the sun caused Nathaniel’s skin to crumble into rock, until he became a part of the cliff itself.
A few months later it was reported the vessel had been attacked by enemy troops invading Europe, no survivors ever being reported after the ship had being razed into the depths of the ocean.
Jimmy took a few steps back, his mouth open in shock, unable to say anything to properly establish the way he currently felt. ‘Wow’ he managed to say in awe.
‘Yes’ nodded the elderly man. ‘Virginia and Nathaniel were the best of all those who ever entered the town, and without them Gransnapia inevitably destroyed itself through wrong doing.’
Jimmy looked at his watch before shouting ‘gee, thanks mister, but I really must go now’, quickly leaping onto his bike and beginning to ride out of the town. He turned around suddenly and looked up at the statue one last time, instantly recognising the resemblance. The old man was the ghost of Nathaniel, trapped for an eternity away from his true love, the two of them cursed to forever be apart.