Quarter Moon - Poetry by Brian George

Sitting in the shade of a Quarter Moon

Sitting in the shade of a quarter moon,

praying for redemption

for the human goons

who are still ignoring the mention

of viral catastrophe coming.

 

I’m sleeping late and wondering

where they get their brains

and social skills while plundering

the supermarket lanes

of bog rolls and supplies.

Elbowing their way to the front

and coughing up their bile,

while nurses and doctors

put their lives on hold for a while.

 

Who are these selfish souls?

They are the very same

whose dogs shit on the path

and ignore the bins and bags,

who teach their lame hags,

and demand their rights,

and say fuck you to the rest.

 

We all know who they are

but don’t comment

when we see them.

No longer now must we

allow them to take over.

Whenever we see them do those acts

we must tell them the facts,

shame them in public,

shame them everywhere.

No more, no way, the twats.

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