Dear reader, there’s more on the Journal of the Plague Year in our next issue.

 

Sadly the timing is a bit awry. We all know the fire was meant to follow the plague. This time the plague has followed the fire. Its a bit back to front, and the wrong way around.  An insight into just how far things have skewed. Fortunately, the Editor in Chief of the Catholic Boys Daily, (Paul Kelly, The Australian)  sums it up, ” Just weeks ago it was the climate crisis dominating the headlines, now something much more profound, an economic meltdown”. You are so right Paul.  To place the significance of the economy over every living thing cannot be understated. Proof once again that all in our world is safe and in its correct place under the embrace of an all loving God, who forgets his cares, (as he is very old and subject to corona attack) and occasionally commits millions to unnecessary suffering and death.

 

Still there is brightness, ‘For all the casualised employees, those who reap the benefits of the enterprise bargaining agreement  and those silly enough to be self employed, there is humanity in knowing they will receive no benefits, though they have paid taxes. Their evictions and demise will ensue that the mainstay of the economy, (like God), the banks shall prevail.

 

Now it’s time for a bit of lightness of touch. We were going to introduce group singing with the introduction of ration books, but as the Federal Government has no cultural memory, we’re just posing a ban on anyone of Chinese appearance found in an airport or transit lounge. To ensure all of us feel SAFE! This is not policy on the run, but the edict of a thorough and well reasoned approach bounded by science and clear thinking.

 

Now for  another couple of fragments of poetry from Lawyer X. He’s now in digs with Witness K, and together with the soundtrack recorded by Alexander Downer of chit chat in the East Timorese embassy, they’re working on a double album with liner notes written by Julian Assange. Should be a cracker for the Christmas stocking with live action ‘cracker sounds’ courtesy of the SAS.

 

So … enjoy the poetry.

 

The Cockatoo

 

I walked out the front gate.

A familiar piercing screech knifed through the thick air.

I looked happily toward the gum tree canopy.

Where are you my crested cockatoo?

Another screech.

I turned.

Realisation.

Wrong bird.

Mother-in-law.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Train

On the train home from work.

Reading a book about guitars.

Looked out the window to the west.

Grey clouds with a serrated gap revealing an intense blue sky edged by snow white with honeycomb beams of light.

Gifts.