It’s that time again to take a break
From the Brightman and Ferret burlesque,
With the time honoured news, filled with the midnight blues,
For better or worse, more or less.
Murders in Oxley, riots in Rocklea, rapes in Indooropilly,
But we’ve heard it all before, and before the end
We may be lucky to hear it all again.
The entertainment today - an economical weather report,
Of which you are about to receive,
As it affects us all, is what we all perceive,
What unites us under one azure roof, eternal eclipse of the bright light.
The truth:
The rivers are rising, yes, yet life flows on.
There’s sand shattering windows, stealing under doorways.
Great hordes roaming highways, forgotten byways,
Moving with the ferocity of the Hun, mixing waterways,
Thick, viscous hybrids of an alien world
Oozing and drooling over riverbanks.
Sand from Ganden Jangtse to borrow your head in,
And enclose you like a dream.
The sands they are a shiftin’.
The rain, a familiar theme -
Don’t ignore the voice inside your mind,
Have the spider sense to come inside.
Keep your cigarettes dry.
Be careful on the roads –
Don’t drink and drive.
Drink. Strive for off the roads.
There’s nowhere to go,
The bottleos are closed.
But drink. I shouldn’t alone
But desperate times call for desperate measures.
So measure:
One part vodka, two parts apocalyptic pleasure.
Find peace now, in the final debt calling.
For with the morning will come a storm warning
Feeding to the fall of man and moribund burning.
Unless of course, we lead a different life.
Instead of the fire, and brimstone age,
We have a green recourse and the earth sprouts anew.
And the rain, it paints the world blue,
An intricate willow pattern revealed.
The mercury rises and the world grows blurred.
Forms less distinct, with hand upheld
Like pointing at the moon, we see only our own flesh.
Boiling blind in narcissistic sin, we burn
Hotter than a night with the kids away.
The Himalayas melt and, faint, we sway.
No need for sweet zephyr to bring the rest.
So tell your loved ones, or better yet, grab them
And hold them and don’t let them put on their old raincoat,
The one that makes them look like a plastic bag filled of Fanta.
Don’t let them step outside.
Stay indoors, stay upstairs.
Keep warm and keep in good company and good humour.
Don’t let’s cry, there are enough tears soaking the world.
Smile and think happy thoughts,
Fly up high where the rivers won’t rise.
Straight on till morning
Because a new day is dawning
And with the brilliance of the rising sun,
Life will linger on.
In you or me, my mother, or your lover,
In a cicada, an amoeba, or a cellular vessel for creation.
In world news Egyptian deltas dry out
And aid is delayed.
Smooth hypabyssal rock river beds,
The porphyry sparkle in sun-dried eyes,
Igniting lost desert dreams of a time
When the earth’s small stone’s scintillation
Meant food and water, power and protection,
Wealth, health and life.
Now though, with this Great Crash,
There will be no suicide epidemics
Leaping with the rain like an Yves Klein, blue.
The sands, the spiders, the wild Maia weather
Will suffice.
Now we’re all boat people and the party isn’t happy.
Refugees and we’re sailing the tides low,
Hearing “fuck off, we’re full” from those without voice.
A diaspora ahead, but with nowhere to go.
We’ll wait on the water
Enchanting new gods,
Waiting for the Halcyon flight
To bring peace and calming tides.
No prayers for the past,
Bloody waves and the crash of all erected cliffs.
Disaster brings no nostalgia for death,
But a desire to live.
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