Between the winter blossoms
And whatever the hell other plants
You want to ascribe to feeling jolly
I sense a smell of shit
Granted it is vague
Slightly disturbing
Pervasive in a weird way
Yet the sky shines bright
Planes criss cross like dreams
Everybody is going somewhere
Or so it seems
Yet the smell lingers
Possibly fanned by those
Right wing possums
Who like to scamper
About the ceiling
Could politics be our conscience
Our epileptic fit
How do we deal with it?
Spasm as we always do
Wave the flag oi! oi! oi!
And leave the healing out of sync
A broken country torn in two
© shaun patrick green 2016
