Lest we forget the profiteers whose patriotism and bank balances were always beyond question. At the going down of the sun – we will remember them. [Editor's note: The inclusion of various politicians in the illustrations was an editor idea, not the poet's.]
Here cdb poet, Brolga-Brolga, tells a moral tale of how a number of neighbours clubbed together to speculate on their adjacent land, but when they tried to buy again, they were already priced out of the market. With homage to Barry Humpreys who wrote The Highett Waltz, sung by Dame Edna, and linked to here.
I used to see all kinds of frogs in our garden as a child,
But they all went when the nearby swamp was drained completely dry,
The local horses disappeared when vacant blocks were sold
And working horses pulling carts all went away we’re told.
From Montreal to Melbourne, from Brisbane to Boston, ordinary people across the world feel like helpless bystanders as woodlands or wetlands or farmlands fall victim to the bulldozer. Madeline Weld, President of the Population Institute of Canada, articulates that feeling well in what could become a theme song for all of us---the Bulldozer Blues. It is about sprawl in Ottawa, but actually, it is about sprawl everywhere.
A political poem by Walter Grahame in the fine old Australian tradition.
"Sure, we are girt by sea and girt by c02 and girt by bloody methane to put into the brew.
We're girt by politicians who won't de bloody bate that overpopulation will be our terminal fate
We've species loss, degraded soils and environmental squalor, and bloody blind self serving bastards in it for a dollar!"