Poetry by D.W. Walker

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Letter from Canberra

I hope you don't think that this is junk mail
Because I've put it in your letter box without a stamp
But it's the only way I can reach you.

Snail mail's not a goer since they said they won't deliver
Unless you pay the Super Duper Premium rate
And even that comes by taxi so you don't know
When or if it will arrive.

The mobile phone's cactus since they brought in 10G,
Which only covers the phone company's board and CEO,
And the landline's out since a tree fell on the underground cable.

My emails all bounce as terrorism-inspired spam
And none of the social networking sites will have me
Because I can't produce a photo that proves I'm under sixteen,

My web site's been shut down as environmentally unsound
Because I put up some high energy graphics,
And I can't drop in and talk to you, because you're never there.

So what's been happening here?

The sun came up this morning, and will probably go down tonight.
The neighbourhood's infested with white feathered hoons with yellow crests
That fly over going CAAAARK – worse than aircraft noise.
Silent lines of cars wait forever round by the airport
And on the Gunghalin Drive devastation.

But at least they've addressed the water problem.
A concrete Great Wall snaking along the hill tops,
And hundreds of metres high across the valleys,
Ready to fill up if it ever rains, giving our parched gardens
A permanent cover of carp-rich water,
Complete with resident bunyip.
They’re going to call it Lake Canberra.

David Walker


Copyright © D.W. Walker, 2008

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