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This poem is an *IA Writing Competition (creative work category) entry.
Ye Old Nut Farm
A whole bunch of old hacks full of life’s harm
Came to converge at Ye Old Nut Farm
“Gather ‘round peers!” one said to her friends
“These are our fables, we’ll dictate the ends”
The irony, of course, of the phrase ‘humankind’
Is that if you think it is literal, by damn you’d be blind…
To the heartache and pain that has befallen your peers
The layers of trauma over months and then years
A yarn much akin to Australian politics
We the rabble rousers, must round up the pricks
Let’s have an uprising!” she said with command
“We’ll take over the joint and respect we’ll demand
Freedom, equality and peace will long reign
This torture we’ve been through – be flushed from our brains
Let’s expel all the bullshit in a bonfire we make
We can start it by sharing, then burn at the stake”
“I can’t!” one peer sobbed. “It shouldn’t even be said.
They made me feel lowly, I’d be better off dead”
“Keep talking, my friends” their new leader urged
“Whatever happened, it needs to be purged!
Yes, made us place trust and we were vulnerable as well
We never imagined they would put us through hell”
One by one each spoke to debrief
And as they divulged, they found some relief
“They’d tell me I was crazy and right off the hook,
From a narcs how-to guide, it was bang on textbook
It might take a flicker or a whole firestorm
But let’s burn all this trauma, from before it was born.”
“Shame grows in silence” a young gent would add
“No wonder we are here in a place for the mad
They’re voices live in our head free of rent
Finally, a place that we can gather to vent”
The next one held then expelled in a rush
Quickly and quietly she said to a hush
“They made me their puppet blocked my escape”
She swung on her chair and sucked back her vape
She blew “They took my dignity as well as my cash!
Let’s bust out the matches and turn logs into ash.”
The chorus grew louder now many in sync
Another added “Same! It drove me to drink!”
And so one by one they all took a turn
Of igniting a flame to watch that shit burn
They laughed and chuckled, “We were told to behave
Instead we’re here dancing on old traumas’ grave”.
Now, as the peers watched the fire did roar
With each plume of smoke, more free than before
The fire flames licked, fearsome and bright
“We will be healed”, they cried in delight
And that would have been a great way to end
But there’s more like revenge our dear friend
There was always going to be more to this very story
And how quickly things then took a turn for the gory
While demanding the freedom to live and to thrive
They felt it couldn’t happen while the oppressors were alive
So, claiming their captors had made their own beds
They summonsed the pollies and did chop off their heads
Naomi Fryers is a writer, author, storyteller and journalist from Melbourne. You can follow Naomi on X (the old Twittersphere) @Naomi_Writes_.
* Full IA Writing Competition details HERE.
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