Bathurst, New South Wales
a ship without a mounting even
for to place a rudder,
where the word democracy is but an empty piece of bling
and referenda seldom get an airing.
A playground for the oligarchs.
All the rhetoric and mon’ and dialog,
that shuns like plague the fundamental issues,
and spans with vehemence, the gamut of peripheral subjects
with spin that’s torqued the members of my hoping organ
rending them asunder,
has left me now a sufferer of spin fatigue,
whilst OZ does trundle on in blunder.