Veering to the Right


riding the wave of anxiety

from where I cautiously swim

almost submerged by circumstance

I see lines of marching men


from all the four horizons they come

beating drums, goose-stepping in tune

{breaststroke, butterfly, backstroke

breaststroke, butterfly, backstroke}


and still they keep on shoving

mermaids out of the way

there is no space for frivolity

in a world where everything is for sale


there they are marching again

on the crest of our fears

stomping all over our freedoms

{no freestyle, no freestyle, no freestyle

a patriots Australian crawl}


and secretly I’m frightened that

there is no place for me at all



Copyright May 2017


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