Shanty Town Poem by Anthony Dawson

Shanty Town

Rating: 4.0


Your shanty sits on a hill,

above filth below will.



Shanty of tin and nail,

waterways grey,

living insane.



Corrugated heat traps,

deliberate slum;

social gaps no halfway scale,

zero then one hundred.



Big bellied little children,

not obese,

corruptly diseased,

forever interned in the poorest herd.

Your shanty is fact,

not to the many turned backs which look out of the skyscrapers.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Uriah Hamilton 03 May 2005

I think John said it all.

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Anthony Dawson

Anthony Dawson

Camperdown, Sydney
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