This is the wrong end of the FY
Confidence at a low I see
The yard that was home to car seat
Urine soaked teddy kikuyu and Maccas shit
Now mown angular and even green
(Thanks to Carbon Tax eradication)
Flashing festive Chinese blowup logoi
Of shiny Advent metonymy and/or joy
And moved to tears I thank my waged
Lucky stars I am a male middle-aged
Victorian Public Servant with bitter liver
And soft head. Above all that hoo-hah
And flim flam and winter cheer Midsummer
At the height of my illustrious career.
O the humanity I the humanity F
A love General Private Corporeal Supreme
Negotiated perhaps for a polity of two, Jefe
But not a neighbourhood a carload
A fastfood chain with gas load
Lost someplace between university and a dream.
My snobbery is where I left it, son
Wedged between Heyer and Györg Lukács:
If dogs are socially constructed then fleas lie down with us
Just as feverish people dream travel
Although ice and ecstasy change them unequal
Our children still find their action figure character
In the packet of Wheeties we open we dole her
Up. And will rise as reality attacks her
Civil and social and full of the joi de Vivian and vegan pizza
You find inexhaustible in the sun.
So sip on your Crown Golden Ale in a stubby holder
Sop to the décor of children sir
Slap a campaign that puts a head bucket on your brother
On your brother
Praise him for being tubby, older.
& npbs gr8 chrimbo 2 1 & awe
Massive seasonal kudos!