Howard Firkin
for Kevin Rudd and all you other gormless fuckers
When does the sun get tired, looking down
on yet another brand new day for this
strange ape-race, gibbering the same old pish
and kicking all the same ideas around
and changing nothing? Nothing, yet again.
The emperor announces nakedness,
and naked, all applaud, as if our skin
was our excuse—forgive us everything
and let’s pretend we like the fucking mess
we’ve made, because we’d do it all again.

Allow me just to say—and take this in
the spirit in which it’s offered—fuck you all.
And take the mealy future you foresee
and shove it. Spare me and the sun the sight.