After an hour of searching

through wattle and gum,

here’s the break in the fence-

here we’ve found the thin edge

where the forest 

drops out into 

blue sky and dust,

where we dig ever deeper

in mineral lust

 

From this height

it’s a theatre

of industrial might,

a stage for our reasons

to stand in the light-

we examine them each

in the magnified glare

of once fertile soil

that’s now been stripped bare

 

It’s a show staring greed

masqueraded as need,

feat. invasion, coercion,

compliance- the seed

that was planted when ‘value’

was stripped from the land,

to live in the palm

of an invisible hand-

not guided by Country,

it bows to Demand

(of it’s own fabrication!)

grips the throat of our nation,

cuts airways and limbs

til a whole generation

is left paralysed,

our mouths hanging open

we watch the tide rise,

and the hand keeps force feeding

those few ‘lucky’ mouths,

but it brews its own poison

in the pit of our bowels,

and its spat and its thrown

and its spilt down our cheeks,

it’s a rage that keeps growing

as we watch them reap

from the hope we had pinned

on our lucky star,

cause we’re told from the start

just how lucky we are,

so convinced that it’s luck

when its clearly design

that while we keep on growing

all others decline.

 

What a strange euphemism

to side-step the fact

what comes out of that hole

is set to come back,

cause the trade winds will blow

consequence to our shores

and that’s where our design

is so fatally flawed.