The glories of our bloody State
Are shadows, not substantial things.
There seems no armour against hate,
The kind official policy brings.
Fair go’s renown
Has broken down
And with the dust is level made
By cries likepeople smugglers’ trade!
MPs with words may blitz the field
And claim strong borders while they kill.
Despair in exile has grim yield:
It makes deaths follow, happening still.
It’s now too late
To deny the fate
Of captives pushed to forsake breath,
And end their pain by choosing death.
The garlands wither on Trump’s “deal”.
Our leaders boast their mighty deeds.
What boats may come they do not tell.
Fake refugees now floods news feeds.
Truth will emerge
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet: the rest arouse disgust.