Homework August 2023 'The City Life'
Posted: Mon Aug 21, 2023 3:06 pm
It seems that this last month has been less than kind to some of us,
This was started from a hospital bed - on the mend now though.
The City Life
He’s been a Bushie all his life not used to daily city strife,
where anything that can go wrong is bound to happen all the time.
Out bush you woke to rising sun and carried on till things were done,
not bound by clock with rush and tear or social steps you have to climb.
But now confronted with this change his whole life he must rearrange,
and learn a language that’s so strange, he wonders has the world gone mad.
New phones are now a must it seems, to meet the status this life deems
appropriate, for modern life embracing every changing fad.
With gismo’s that confuse near all, he knows he’s heading for a fall,
not even knowing where to start now in this foreign world down here.
His new phone is a point in view not knowing what the hell to do,
to even use the flamen thing - perhaps he needs another beer.
You ask for help but there is none, yet most here reckon they’re a gun,
they rabbit on with strange big words now meaningless to blokes like him.
And even when the damn thing rings it’s likely just a scam it brings,
so wonders should he answer it – or chuck it in the sea to swim.
The internet is full of crooks, just waiting there to sink their hooks
here into anyone who’s fooled, by countless scams that do the rounds.
It’s now so easy to get caught, the whole damn scene is really fraught
with danger, and you wonder if the net should now be out of bounds.
Yet people walk with phone to ear and even chat with others near,
there is no privacy as heated words are often heard as well.
And there are words that make him blush heard daily in the city rush
of noisy pandemonium, that’s life here in this man-made hell.
There’s TV screens that scream at you with promises he doubts are true,
but people watch this rubbish every night when what they need is sleep.
And social media now rules, and treat us like a mob of fools
addicted to this latest fad – a stalking ground for every creep.
Of night’s he dreams of far-off hills and shearing sheds and creaking mills,
along with silence found out there compared with endless noise down here.
Then thoughts of what he’d left behind start playing now upon his mind,
especially that Jillaroo, with whom he’d sensed romance was near.
A month down here enough he felt, and rues again this hand he’d dealt,
his dreams about a city life, a fool’s illusion, nothing more.
He now admits he’d got it wrong about bright lights and drink and song,
he’s had a taste - but knows it’s time to go – and that’s for flam’en sure.
© T.E. Piggott
This was started from a hospital bed - on the mend now though.
The City Life
He’s been a Bushie all his life not used to daily city strife,
where anything that can go wrong is bound to happen all the time.
Out bush you woke to rising sun and carried on till things were done,
not bound by clock with rush and tear or social steps you have to climb.
But now confronted with this change his whole life he must rearrange,
and learn a language that’s so strange, he wonders has the world gone mad.
New phones are now a must it seems, to meet the status this life deems
appropriate, for modern life embracing every changing fad.
With gismo’s that confuse near all, he knows he’s heading for a fall,
not even knowing where to start now in this foreign world down here.
His new phone is a point in view not knowing what the hell to do,
to even use the flamen thing - perhaps he needs another beer.
You ask for help but there is none, yet most here reckon they’re a gun,
they rabbit on with strange big words now meaningless to blokes like him.
And even when the damn thing rings it’s likely just a scam it brings,
so wonders should he answer it – or chuck it in the sea to swim.
The internet is full of crooks, just waiting there to sink their hooks
here into anyone who’s fooled, by countless scams that do the rounds.
It’s now so easy to get caught, the whole damn scene is really fraught
with danger, and you wonder if the net should now be out of bounds.
Yet people walk with phone to ear and even chat with others near,
there is no privacy as heated words are often heard as well.
And there are words that make him blush heard daily in the city rush
of noisy pandemonium, that’s life here in this man-made hell.
There’s TV screens that scream at you with promises he doubts are true,
but people watch this rubbish every night when what they need is sleep.
And social media now rules, and treat us like a mob of fools
addicted to this latest fad – a stalking ground for every creep.
Of night’s he dreams of far-off hills and shearing sheds and creaking mills,
along with silence found out there compared with endless noise down here.
Then thoughts of what he’d left behind start playing now upon his mind,
especially that Jillaroo, with whom he’d sensed romance was near.
A month down here enough he felt, and rues again this hand he’d dealt,
his dreams about a city life, a fool’s illusion, nothing more.
He now admits he’d got it wrong about bright lights and drink and song,
he’s had a taste - but knows it’s time to go – and that’s for flam’en sure.
© T.E. Piggott