The pole of the history of Floods at Lock 11, Mildura VIC Australia |
By the bank of the Murray At the interchange Stands a dated pole Of the sick and insane He stood and gazed for a while To observe the barbers post Which cited marks of time And the screams of many ghost The echoes of many floods All by her design Of nature at her best She left her film of grime He recalled a truth of calls bygone And windows of leering soul He felt the sting of those who would Lore in time a mole. They spoke with truth or so they thought And refined their righteous words To paint a tale of how they felt and brew their lies like curds. He walked away and watched their shunt hot and cold it stung Until he left and pondered A town of half its lung. The months went by He thought no more Until it made its mark The blade, the tongue Some trivial yelps He understood the Hark He left too late to clear his mind And will one day return To answer to their gossips And fill their dusty urn. Truth could not be lifted And no one could attest To a man so ungifted And somewhat at arrest But if you grace this same path Be sure to hold your own The gossips will claim you “friend” But ignore their boredom moan. |