Building site blues.

Building site blues.

So much noise

Even in silence

The world intrudes

Flooding in

Engulfing the senses

Probing the synapses until they bleed

Ear protectors should be mandatory

Except on Sunday

The relief when the generator cuts out

The drill stops

For a moment I was in a dentist’s chair

Expecting the plunge of a needle

The sound repeats

In awful cacophonous mockery

Of the gentility of lunchtime

The sun a softly warm presence

Hung in brief apology

As the best of the day is shorn

Of all its beauty

Frazzled crows gape wide

Their voices barely heard

Frustration plainly writ

In the wide blaze of wild eyes

This was their moment

A feeding frenzy

Of midday vittles

To feed the starving chicks

Ruined by the mighty engines

Of man-made follies

How many luxury apartments

Does Queensland need

As so many poor boys

Walk the streets barefoot

With ne’re a pot to piss in

What would they do

With this noisy drill

I wonder

As over yonder

Old concrete floors

And wooden doors

Are routinely split asunder

Perhaps they would dig for victory

Break the chains

That tie them to their fate

First nations

Never given second generation

Prospects

Struggle to thrive on offcuts and scraps

Live in deathtraps

Whilst all around

Gentrification encroaches

Ancient homelands

As if by right

Given up without a fight

A cacophony of silence

A bloodless resolution

A Gold Coast revolution.