Might I remind you
Of a hurtful gravitational tug you
Once placed on us.
You told me
Take your sorries to the gavel hot boy,
Because I had eaten all the ripe plums. No,
In fact I pleaded for help for my grimly steep
Actions, I had – under wills of divinity,
Laundered from the overflowing green pocketssssss of
The Fund.
You… you enforced,
If the money is the root of all evil,
Why would you wilfully swallow the corrosion.
Are you idle or stupid.
Does the Trust Fund know
You can’t be trusted with funds: you added solemnly.
I said yes and cried because
The entire sail struck stiff in the squall
Until your head got in the way of a collapsing mast
That
Struck
You
DEAD.
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present and emerging. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.