Peter Porter
Australian poet Peter Porter (1929-2010) in a poem titled A Burning Fiery Furnace questioning Australian's narcissistic obsession with national identity
"Henry Ford was right: what's history,
Why do Australians wonder who they are?
Infinite stars in heaven-your one star
Is your own life- the millions don't agree.
They sulk in digits and symposia
And measure muscle tone and their synapses
Childhood’s Tower (not Ivory) collapses.
Eucalyptus is a plain ambrosia.
I write this down I’m sure because I’m old;
I write this down I’m sure because I’m old;
The country of my birth’s become hot news
And selfishness would always take short views —
My ancestors came out and found no gold.
The world is made again in each of us.Australian homes are dark to help the sun
Lure children out for democratic fun.
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