FIFO   Leave a comment

FIFO

Reduce the distance between
and the time available for
dinner reservations – move the town

I drive south along quiet streets,
where the mix of commercial buildings
and four bedroom two bathroom
double garage homes all have
things in common

nothing and nothingness,
or empty and emptiness,
the boom came and went
as did the people,
but the debt still remains

the pubs fading chalkboard reads
“Two for Tuesday T’bones – $38.00”
Clive Palmer would have ordered a double

not far away a security light
struggles to illuminate a
deserted public library,
who knows why for even the
thieves have left this place

a plaque sits somewhere in
in the middle of town reading,
“This town was opened by
Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen for the
benefit of…” – the rest is missing

the torn remains of the banner
for an Italian food festival
still straddles the main street

this town was bankrupt long
before it was deserted, money
does funny things to morals,
though strangely it never
bothered the politicians

[euthanasia, an act of killing
painlessly, a mercy killing],
yet there was no easy death here,
this town screamed all the way
to its open cut grave

homeless and hungry, they moved
towns, there’s always a new
restaurant just up the road

immerse yourself in the mines
and they all look the same,
a strand of coolabah trees
would have stood where now
there is only a hole in the ground

nothing defines a mining
towns character anymore,
it just doesn’t exist
politicians and workers,
they fly in, they fly out

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Posted 11/08/2015 by DarKarsean in Life, Musing, poem, poetic, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

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