The damage begins with thought
And all flows out from there:
It’s not about brains or brawn
Or who has the greater care
When it comes to rocking a cradle;
Somewhere, somebody thought
That half of all children born
Across the face of the earth
Were less than the other half
If one day, they could give birth.
Strength doesn’t lead to intelligence,
But that’s where the fight ends up.
Inside, out and back again:
All of history’s well-heeled gents,
Passing the brandy, swilling the cup.
Surely the differences of flesh
Would matter less, or not at all,
If we understood what they really meant;
Two separate halves of a whole;
The having of thoughts, and their worth
Are disconnected from tasks
To which our bodies are suited:
That nude electricity, the driving spark
That fuels us – that is the point.
Peel off the candy-wrapper skins,
The weight that asks
We all be store-bought mannequins
And study the pilot-light:
Humanity, always sculpting fire,
Brave in the sentient night.
The directions we forbid ourselves
Through fear, not love
Are made in monstrous shapes:
We try to draw
A smile on the wreck of centuries
And make it a jackanapes
But even greasepaint rebels
At the push-and-shove.
We are not fools
To fix what was wrong before –
Now step aside, you ancients.
Open the door.
Note: The above was roughly inspired by this hideous article in today’s SMH, wherein columnist Bettina Arndt worries that Australia’s unmarried, female Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, will corrupt the Youths Of Today with her de facto lifestyle. Clearly, I was not impressed.