In Sydney’s West will Gillard Khan
Lose even in the safe Chifley?
Where the Paramatta steamers ran
Through urban sprawl measureless to man
Down to old Sydney.
So twice entrenched Khan holds her ground
With polls and pollies circling ‘round:
And there is Kevin bright with mirth,
Touring to support…their office-bearing surety;
And here were electorates red as the earth,
Now fading into bluish obscurity.
And oh! That lush romantic vine which grew
From the pastured shores and stones of Sydney harbour!
A savage place! As holy and unplanned
As e’er beneath a wanning sun was tanned
Or Turnbull wailing for his demon-Labor!
And from this vine, with congested arteries bursting,
As if this plant in sheer frustration thirsting,
Electoral polling began to sate the yearning:
Amid whose relentless half-intimated bursts
Huge fragments vaulted like resounding bums,
Or sticky snot between a child’s thumbs:
And ‘mid these dancing tabloids at beckoned call
The vine still choked not free to drink at all.
(And the Herald to become its pall.)
A Daniel Lewis had his Day
In a television I saw:
The pontiff’s resignation made,
And on his last day he prayed,
Amid scandalous rumour.
Could I revive within me
His calls to climb the hill?
To such a deep delight ‘twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would dance atop Taylor Square,
That rainbow crossing! Those sassy queers!
And all who heard should cheer them there,
And all should cry, “They’re bare! They’re bare!”
The shadow of the cabinet spectre
Floated midway on the Baillieu;
So too was heard a voice defector,
For Simpson and his donkey’s dues.
An HIV cure gave a functional answer.
All that remains: who gave Chavez cancer?
Excessive force! Brutality!
All who’ve seen the clips did stare,
And most did cry, Unjust! Unfair!
Their flashing eyes, their floating hair!
Around them weave a circled suite,
All eyes affixed on finding truth:
How blunt the bluish chequered tooth
That bloodied the boy of Oxford Street?