Culture //

Natural election

Mariana Podesta-Diverio bids farewell to the chalk and theatrics

Simultaneously tragic and compelling:

a vivid bag of Skittles strewn across the

tarmac of our landing strip.


A student body patronised by puns

promising us the world.

Eastern Avenue gang

tensions make first-years impetrate solitude.

Eloquent climbers of social kinds

hack at resolves when hours

and hours of “[Yours and ours!]”

lecture announcements blend

into stale smoothies of unmixable colours

and skittish behaviour.

Foul tastes are chased away –

but only when we stray for solitude.


Overgrown, gargantuan rainbow children

squirm beneath lecture screens to an

audience watching impossible future schemes

corrode dead air.

Their yelling and dancing pales cheerleaders in comparison:


“Me! The Saviour! I’ll be your bro!

[I want to be rich, so watch my nose grow!]”

It’s sad that nobody knows composure

withholding exposure in finite bounds whilst

CEO Andrew releases the hounds.


Pounds of flesh that indiscreetly, sweetly, march in file, in place.

Face away, pray tell them of indifference!

Lest they nick at your feet!

And run (intently, endlessly) to grant their grand defeat.

Obsolete will these “policies” be, when wraths of

priceless SSAF funding are bequeathed to hopelessness.


Your vote will count like Count von Count counts –

a droning and gradual prattling –

and stands for a process

worthy of constant cackling.