When Bread and Circuses Fail

It’s a march and I am on the Fringe of an annual fanfare
An added value for Radelaide this year, and farce:
the youth paint-up pretty slogans on breeze-blown masts
 
“When injustice becomes law,
justice becomes duty”
 
“Why should I pay to learn…when
you don’t listen to the Educated?”
 
“School must become parliament,
when Parliament is a schoolyard.”

Yet there are no Go Pokie! critters to catch in this park—
fictitious rights like hope, jobs, health, peace or homes—
just a sea of naivety soaking up the sun,
while the ‘all-fun’ candy world turns dark

The switched-on sensitive see the reality weak,
the endeavour futile, the outcome Hell-bleak

If only this limp dissent had a puff of agency
but evil soups up the eyes, slow-cooks the ears
Welcome to the Big Boys kitchen!

“Trickle” Treat! A Neo-Liberal serving:

Appetiser: bullying and misogynist pâté (peppery with a punch)

Main: Hearty heap of Bull Shit and a side of Paranoia Salad

Dessert: Racial Division doused with exotic Gender Discourse

Meanwhile, Tasman carries another Temple gun
It’s a different Oceanic shore yet,
honey to ants and opium to addicts, he grabs them like his schlong:
the spotlights on all of Murdoch’s channels and then some!

Trojan puppets in pawns’ slacks
draw up the grey, inject the “black”
to ensure there’s blood on the chessboard
The stick caramelises sweet Muslims into martyrs

Plenty to slip and slide across the fraying folds:
“boundaries” on the map that divvy up mountain hoards
and submerge the secrets in valley graves

And Adam’s seed still finds no rest
The Garden shrinks with Palestine,
like an unconsented shaving of Gaia’s pubes
as well as the glory of her Amazing-Borneo braids

But let’s be “civilized”
Let’s be quiet,
hush hush now
Be more "Advanced"!

Yeah right!

The “Developped” refuse to ween off the Oily:
Milk of Mother’s breasts—sick fucks!
Freud didn’t go far enough!

Her wombs worth less than landfills,
so vestal souls obesify a risen Moloch
and the monstrous masters lark
over the offering at the altar:
the raped, the starving, the broken

This documentary on humanity’s demise
has turned from reality T.V. to D.W. comedy
It’s Kierkegaard’s theater burning;
exits stand as props and you all darn lost!!!

Don’t expect there’ll be an encore
cause y'll all be dead
just like your current silence