Jerry Behr Number 2 (3/2/1951 / Netherlands)
This arid wasteland where there are cracked dried riverbeds,
on it’s banks silent sentinels with white bleached bones
stand on riverbanks giving no shade to anybody who travel
these regimes. On the horizon shimmering heatwaves dance
on sand dunes giving the traveller the mirage of how things
are in these arid regimes. Mirages easily fool the traveller while
he stands on baked hard lake bed with cracks.
Where is the true reality of how things are for real in Australia?
Is unemployment really at 5.7%?
bearing in mind Australia imports 250 Billion dollars worth of
stuff every year in essence we are making nothing for nobody.
Is there a future in Australia’s wastelands?
Three bedroom fibro house is sells three quarters of a million dollars
Everybody is buying one
Comments about this poem (Really? by Jerry Behr Number 2 )
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