Now is the summer of our malcontents
Made gloriously farcical by the stunts of Phoney Tony;
And all the clouds that beamed upon our house
In the deep bosom of despair are buried.
Now are our brows furrowed by deepening despair;
Our bruised ears sullied by vitriolic rhetoric;
Our optimism drowned by unnecessary anger,
Our confidence fractured by doubt and uncertainty.
Grim visages stand upon the podiums of affected rage;
And instead of calm and rational argument,
The rants of would be leaders pierce the air.
Phoney Tony, Schlocky Hockey, Hatter Katter and Jabbering Joyce.
Throw their angst to a welcoming and vociferous crowd,
What are these malcontents but the fringe of our society;
Driven by their own paranoid views of reality,
Fed by those who would foster anarchy for their own purpose.
Do they represent the makings of an Oz Tea Party,
Far right nongs of shallow disposition,
who only visualise simplistic solutions to complexity?
Is this democracy at its most venal,
Sullied by those who seek power by any means,
Who will use dissemination, diatribe and dishonesty
To achieve their own nefarious ends?
I, in this time of anger and uncertainty,
Am saddened by such dissemblance,
That logic and rational debate have been traduced.
That freedom of speech can be used by the dishonest
to bastardise and make mockery of democracy.
Is it futile to hold out hope
that rationale and measured argument will ultimately prevail,
and overcome such anarchic dissonance?
Why in such times of global uncertainty,
When bipartisanship and co-operation should prevail,
Do we set our people in hate one against the other?
Dive these depressive thoughts, down to my soul: here
What novel foetid ordure does he bring
to further corrupt a suffering government?
With apologies to William Shakespeare and his ‘Now is the winter of our discontent’.