The Sun, shines down, upon my face,
Warming my cheek, solar solace
Makes me think what else it’s warms
In far off places, some war torn.
Where floods are raging, then there’s drought
Causing famine starves all about.
The rays are warming my breakfast up,
“English Breakfast?” Another cup!
Royal commissions hiatus, nay lull,
So aussie news has seemed so dull.
Forced to follow jan 6 hearing,
To international politics attention veering.
Poor old Ukraine is getting fucked,
By Russia, gosh what damned bad luck.
It’s sliding from the headlines now,
Four months ago, a sacred cow.
Boris Johnson’s hit the dirt,
Though hair was messy, wore nice pressed shirts.
Eventually his party saw,
He no longer held it in his claws.
Down under ScoMo got the chop,
Vain gloriously for his religious slop.
Promoting self always his schtick,
Electorate sussed he was a prick.
Con Hindi’s on the stand today,
Corrupt misdeeds publicly displayed.
In secret hearings the commission’s heard,
Evidence revealing, some quite absurd.
Hindi takes on a muscular stance
In Lebanese style of the Babke dance.
A jiggling conga both linear and circular,
Farrago of mistruths from consummate liar.
The commissioner’s not used to seeing defiance,
Especially from turds in corrupt alliances.
Or hearing their voices raised in anger,
While taking the chance opponents to slander.
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