Sabbath day at the witching hour

My song of fury

An expression even,

Of love

First a question:

What are you creatures

That come out the ground

And walk the land,

What have you become?

Sexist/homophobic

Yet obsessed

With a lesbians desire!

Youse were given free will

In abundance

A gum

Yet you chopped it down

To fuel your habit

Power in a cell,

Fervent belief in product,

A product yourself,

Battery hen!

Once more you put me on the defensive

And the wind picks up

Like my ears

So many, as a friend once said,

Paper cuts

Hooved mouths!

A crowd

Who do you think you are, Australia?

You’re at the bottom of the earth

With your heart cut out

The witching hour

Has begun

Parliament time

I don’t owe you an explanation of my orientation

There is no “right “

As you say it’s your “right”

– it’s rhetoric

It’s a nazi salutation

And you’re climbing and growing, y’all

The more powerless

The more vicious

The more cowardice

It just expands like a desert within, oh yeah,

You’re an island, genius!

And am I not

So Beautiful to look at

As I walk it?

The flower of love on my breast

For the earth – and, well, her

Starlight, which to me is light, which to me makes visible the daylight and sunlight, moonlight,

Which to me

Which more could be the reason

For the soul

Than to reflect

An echo, of what is more, than it could ever be alone,

Which is life

I don’t hate youse back

It’s kinda sad

That powerlessness doesn’t grow

It shrinks

Heart, bone, and soul

Your love you crave

Into a groan

I see all that

In an acorn

In your obsession

With my sexuality

Youse can never own

Despite my fury

I still want wilds

Love between tribes,

Hate just to settle down

But I know it’s the witching hour

And creatures roam

Like gangs of fangs

And the neo parliament

Has just

Begun