by Jonathan Cant

a villanelle

Hey, Down Under, you’re going south these days
and some would say that apathy’s to blame.
No longer do I like your words or ways.

In media’s bottom paddock, dumb sheep graze
on weeds grown off the shit of others’ fame.
Hey, Down Under, you’re going south these days

to empty places hardly fit for praise—
where “sport” is more the betting on the game.
No longer do I buy your words or ways.

Like Huxley’s soma—keeps us in a daze.
Bread and circuses just to make us tame.
Hey, Down Under, you’re going south these days.

Where are the things and deeds which once amazed?
Beyond the bling and TV shows so lame.
No longer do I need your words or ways.

A voyeur’s life for which our culture pays.
The warning’s there contained within your name—
Austral liar! You’re heading south these days;
No longer do I trust your words or ways.