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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
About life in Melbourne's west and the failure of laissez faire fascism.

Submitted: January 18, 2011

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Submitted: January 18, 2011



Just off Essex Street
The poor and aging die,
Forgotten by a government
Indifferent to their plight.

Not far from
Melbourne’s CBD
folk die from frost,
The elderly, the invalids
The unemployed and the lost.

In a frigid
Melbourne winter
The unemployed sleep outside,
Waiting for help that never comes
Expecting soon to surely die.

Forgotten folk deemed unimportant
By those who have the power,
It seems ‘the Milk of Human Kindness’
Most surely has gone sour.

So the forgotten freeze to death
Just off
Essex Street,
‘We cannot give them jobs or food
And we WILL NOT give them heat!’

The forgotten have given up
What point is there to even dream,
For governments are surely death
To the forgotten’s mortal screams.

Who can live in hope in the west
Where governments have let them down,
And let them live and die outside
Just west of

Yes, the forgotten have no reason
To continue their awful existence,
And so they hark to death’s loud call
To give up on life’s pretense.

© Copyright 2011
Philip Roberts

© Copyright 2017 Philip Roberts. All rights reserved.

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