poem

The season of zonked flies
Trapped behind windowpanes
They fall into coffee cups
Loll in left over gravy on dinner plates
A last indulgence on dessert platters
Rolling over, legs up
Not dead yet but on the way
Gone brutally bonkers
No wriggling out of here

(To the tune of Teddy Bears' Picnic)

If you go up to the Senate today
You’ll surely feel no surprise
If you go up to the Senate today
You’ll scarcely need a disguise

For every tycoon who ever there was
Is rejoicing there for certain becos
Today’s the day they’re getting their tax cut….

A party day for millionaires
They’re having a lovely time today,
It hardly took them unawares
It’s been planned since election day.

Peter Dutton’s talking to the gun lobby,
Cos that’s the kind of thing he does.
After all, it’s just a harmless hobby,
Giving macho men a lovely buzz.

And now he’s desirous of importing
Some macho men from far away,
He has great experience in sorting
Who should be blocked and who should stay....

At first it's all smiles and love,

Honeymoon is over now it's push ’n shove,

You stay because they say sorry,

It won't happen again please don't worry,

Then suddenly something triggers the tick,

BOOM slapped with your first backhand hit.

Left in shock you think how can this be?

Living in the denial of they do love me.

This time they beg please no divorce,

Saying "If you only listened I wouldn't use force"

Now the blame game sets in along with rules,

You hide the truth not to look the fool.

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