Australia is a broken barbecue land of sausages, chops, and beers; a  dingo calling wild in the desert, soldiers being sent here/being sent there, Big Brother/House Brother/Cooking Brother Holding shows, an F j Holden screaming the dust bowl highways , a mad trumpeter on a beach 3am Australia is a Brett Whitley painting not realised, a poet dying in the street, a sky ablaze with a million stars singing tie me kangaroo down sport Australia is streets: High , Hanover , Murray, Lygon, Fitzroy, Peel, Giffords Road, Stevedore, Horror , Helen Street,  a society that allows the mentally ill to in live in rooming houses with its film noir black heavies, its yoga babe designer garage cringe TYPES a society of  hell kicking image freaks that forgot about the substance but then talking about substance I’m reminded of the holy crack dealers of Fitzroy Street, heroin encapsulates the tangerine dream of this my beloved home, where if you scratch a man you’ll find Madness Australia is a whirlwind of golden beaches with cornish pasties and meat pie and sauce girls and men in g strings and mad dogs hanging around our midnight wharves howling with balaclava clad security guards holding truncheons all in the name of freedom; the question is whose freedom? Australia is a  concentration camp of  racist hair and suntanned souls; a dead heart for the first settlers, the indigenous peoples of our land Australia my streets,  there it is, such a trick, its an airline ticket to atheistic, capitalistic, nihilistic,trojanistic, unrealistic, jingoistic Jungian dark riders of our night but all in all even though I hate IT I still fucking love it.

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