A modern view of a sunburnt country.

The burning field and coppice
The smoke and tears and flames
Of burning homes and forests
Is beating at our brains
Grey-white skies in the distance
As the smoke blots out the sky
I know, but cannot share it,
My fear is otherwise.

I fear this burning country,
Of politicians with no brains
Of burning mountain ranges
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I fear her far horizons,
where smoke I will first see
Her beauty dimmed by terror
We must now set her free!

The stark and blackened forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The flames consuming mountains,
The baking heat of noon,
Black tangles of dead forest
Where smoke is like to coil
And dead leaves deck the tree-tops,
And fire’s killed the soil.

Tears from our heart, for country!
Her constant smoking sky,
The sick bullshit heaped upon us
By those we wish would die
But they close ranks and gather
Words to impress again
The boring propaganda,
That’s meant to soothe our pain.

Tears from our heart, for country!
Of beauty now in flames,
Flood and fire and impending famine
Gaia pays us back threefold.
Over the burnt out forests,
Where, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze …

This opal-hearted country,
Tortured at our hand
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
Through Gaia’s many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know it’s still this burnt country
My homing thoughts will fly.

So fuck you Pollie arseholes
You scummy corporate dogs
You rape and pillage country
Then you’re at the trough like hogs.
You bow down to your masters
But really you don’t care
About this sunburnt country
Or the folk who you’ve torn bare.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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